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Plague Diary: March
Gonçalo M. Tavares
A coronavirus diary from the Portuguese writer Gonçalo M. Tavares, translated by Daniel Hahn.
Scattered All Over the Earth
Yoko Tawada
‘You don’t understand. The country where I used to live is now gone.’
To Zagreb
Yoko Tawada
‘You didn’t know where you wanted to end up, had never considered how much time you had left.’
Torn Silk and Garlands of Garlic
Teffi
Teffi remembers the Armenian refugees in Novorossiisk during the Russian Revolution.
Returning to the Hague
Georgi Tenev
‘‘Shall I tell you, son,’ I ask him, ‘exactly what I’m guilty of?’’
My Enemy’s Cherry Tree
Wang Ting-Kuo
‘And the truth is, my heart was tied in knots, and pain bored into the marrow of my bones when I heard about his illness.’
Drive Your Plough Over the Bones of the Dead
Olga Tokarczuk
‘They gazed at us calmly, as if we had caught them in the middle of performing some ritual whose meaning we could not fathom.’
The Hotel Capital
Olga Tokarczuk
‘At the same time I take off my exotic language, my strange name, my sense of humour, my face lines, my taste for food not appreciated here, my memory of small events—and I stand naked in this pink and white uniform as if emerging from the sea mist.’
Preserves for Life
Olga Tokarczuk
‘He came upon one under the kitchen sink labelled ‘Shoestrings in vinegar, 2004’, and that should have alarmed him.’
The Book Tree
Larry Tremblay
‘I dreamed of dictionaries. I crammed myself with liquorice, honeymoons, caramels.’
