Archive: Thu Aug 2016

  1. Intérpretes de las Cortes de Migración inician paro laboral

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    Intérpretes de las Cortes de Migración inician paro laboral

    “Quienes van a sufrir son los inmigrantes…”
    Intérpretes de las Cortes de Migración inician paro laboral

    FOTO: GETTY IMAGES

    Decenas de intérpretes que trabajan en las cortes de migración de Los Ángeles iniciarán este jueves un paro laboral en protesta porque han comenzado a ser desplazados por intérpretes con menos experiencia, lo que dicen será un golpe muy duro para el inmigrante quien sin un buen intérprete podría correr el riesgo de ser deportado.

    “Migración contrata una agencia que a su vez subcontrató intérpretes que les cotizó exageradamente barato, y a nosotros ya no nos quieren emplear”, dijo Elsa, quien no quiso proporcionar su apellido, pero ha sido intérprete de migración por cuatro años.

    Precisó que los nuevos intérpretes son estudiantes jóvenes que no tienen experiencia y que ganarán menos del 50% de lo que ellos devengan.

    “Quienes van a sufrir son los inmigrantes porque cualquier palabra que no se interprete bien puede meterlos en problemas. En migración, hay muchos tecnicismos y hay jueces que hablan muy rápido”, explicó la intérprete.

    SOS Internacional o SOSi es la compañía a la cual el Departamento de Justicia (DOJ) contrató para proveer servicios de interpretación. Pero de acuerdo a Stephanie Magaña, una de las voceras de los intérpretes, SOSi en lugar de seguir con los intérpretes freelancers (contratistas independientes) decidió subcontratar a Southern California School of Interpretation con sede en Santa Fe Springs para que este plantel les proporcione traductores para las cortes de migración a un precio mucho más barato que los que ya prestan sus servicios.

    “Nosotros sí somos profesionales de la lengua con muchos años y algunas veces décadas de experiencia, comprometidos con el debido proceso para cada persona dentro del sistema judicial”, dijo la también intérprete  Magana, quien lamentó la decisión. Agregó que el DOJ tiene una responsabilidad con el país para no permitir que la injusticia de desplazarlos, prevalezca.

    La intérprete Elsa también se quejó de que aunque los tratan como contratistas independientes, en el trato diario, los mantienen bajo vigilancia y a veces no pueden ni ir al baño.

    Mostró su preocupación pues dijo que los intérpretes profesionales se quedarán sin empleo. “Esta es la última semana que nos dan trabajo”, comentó.

    El paro laboral en la Corte de Migración ubicada en las calles 6 y Olive del centro de Los Ángeles está previsto para comenzar a partir de las 7:00 de la mañana de este jueves 25 de agosto.

    Es un paro que se va a prolongar los días siguientes y esperamos que se vuelva nacional”, expuso Fernando Becerril, vocero de los intérpretes que se unirán a la huelga laboral.

    La falta de intérpretes calificados en una audiencia puede resultar en una deportación inmediata y les puede salir carísimo. Estamos lidiando con casos extremadamente delicados”, argumentó.

    Estimó que en todo el país hay alrededor de 1,000 intérpretes, en California más de 90 y en Los Ángeles más de 30.

    “El paro de labores de los intérpretes va a afectar enormemente a los inmigrantes”, remarcó.

    Las cortes de inmigración han tenido un aumento de 117% mientras que el número de jueces ha disminuido.
    Las cortes de inmigración han tenido un aumento de 117% mientras que el número de jueces ha disminuido. (Foto: Archivo/La Opinión)

    Anticipa retrasos

    El abogado experto en migración, Alex Galvez, anticipó que el impacto del paro será tremendo pues muchas audiencias tendrán que ser pospuestas ante la falta de intérpretes. “Y celebrar una audiencia sin uno, es una violación de los derechos constitucionales del inmigrante”, señaló.

    Gálvez dijo que tienen información de que los derechos de los intérpretes no eran respetados del todo. “Su trabajo es muy importante porque un buen intérprete no solo traduce las palabras sino las emociones. Y uno con experiencia escoge las palabras más adecuadas”, estableció.

    Las cortes de migración están ya de por sí sobresaturadas con un rezago de alrededor de 456,000 casos, el número más alto de todos los tiempos. Esto hace que la situación de muchos inmigrantes permanezca en el limbo por años.

    La Opinión esperaba una respuesta de la Oficina Ejecutiva de Evaluación Migratoria (EOIR) del Departamento de Justicia sobre el paro laboral.

     

  2. U.S. immigration interpreters under siege again.

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    U.S. immigration interpreters under siege again.

    August 23, 2016 § 5 Comments

    Dear Colleagues:

    It is not common that I write a blog entry hoping to be wrong, but on this occasion I hope I am mistaken. Let me explain:

    2015 was a very difficult year for our immigration court interpreters in the United States. After decades of working with the same agency, the Executive Office for Immigration Review (EOIR) granted their court interpreting services contract to a new contractor that is better known for their multi-million dollar contracts with the United States Department of Defense than for their interpreting services.  This new contractor: SOSi, won the licitation process by bidding lower than anybody else, and to keep the operation profitable for their stakeholders, they attempted to hire inexperienced interpreters and pay them extremely low fees under unimaginable work conditions.

    The interpreters rallied against the newcomer’s offer, united like never before, and took to the social media, traditional media, and professional associations for support. The movement became quite strong and as a result of these actions by our immigration court colleagues and their allies, SOSi was left with no choice but to offer contracts to many of the more experienced interpreters under work conditions similar to the ones they were used to with the former contractor, and in many cases with the interpreters getting better fees than before. SOSi agreed to these terms and addressed some of the main concerns that the EOIR had about the way they were to offer interpreting services nationwide by hiring some of the support staff that had previously worked for the previous contractor: LionBridge.

    At the time, it looked like SOSi got it and decided to do things the right way; unfortunately, their temporary contract with the United States Department of Justice was about to expire and they had to move quickly to turn that provisional contract into a permanent contractual obligation. To achieve their goals, once that interpreters, immigration judges, and public opinion subsided, they decided to go after the interpreters once again.

    During the last few days, many immigration interpreters received an email from SOSi notifying them the following changes to their policy:

    “…In the coming weeks, we plan to release a competitive Request for Quote (RFQ) to anyone who is interested in continuing to work on the program…”

    In other words, in a few weeks, interpreters will have to bid for work at the EOIR, and assignments will go to the lowed bid.  Is SOSi going to pay its interpreters the same rock-bottom fees they had in mind a year ago when their master plan was derailed in part by their ineptitude, but mainly because the quality interpreters refused to work for such insulting fees.

    I hope I am wrong, but as I continue to read SOSi’s communication, I detect a Machiavellian cleverness I did not see last year. Let’s read another segment of the same email:

    “…In the meantime, we are issuing extensions to current Independent Contractor Agreements (ICAs) at the current rates.  You will have seven days to review and execute those extensions in order to be eligible to continue working on the program past August 31, 2016….”

    The way I read the paragraph, and I hope I am wrong, I get the impression that SOSi is taking away from the interpreters the argument of “contracts with rock-bottom fees” by offering its current contractors a new contract under the same professional fees (incorrectly called “rates”).  By doing this, the Defense Contractor turned interpreting service provider, if questioned by EOIR, can defend itself arguing that their individual interpreter contracts contain the same terms as the prior contract, and that the interpreters who work for a lower fee than the one in their contract, do so by voluntarily participating in the “competitive request”process in order to get more work.  Of course, we can assume (from the contractor’s own words) that there will be very few assignments for those interpreters who do not participate in the bidding process. They will probably work only when nobody else is available.

    Finally, SOSi’s communication states that “…The goal of the changes is to provide the best, most cost-effective service to the DOJ…” 

    Of course they have to watch these costs; that is an essential part of their contract with the government. The problem is that they also need to make a profit, and the more the better.  The question is: How can you increase your profit when your client (EOIR) will not pay you more? To me, the answer seems clear:  They will pay less to the service provider (the interpreter).

    I could be wrong, but I do not believe that SOSi will pass on to the EOIR the “savings” from low-bidding interpreters on a case-by-case basis. Record keeping and reporting of these individual cases would be more expensive than simply paying the contractually agreed fees.  From the email, I understand that SOSi will get the same paycheck from the government, but their profit will go up from the money they will save by paying the interpreter a miserable fee.  The United States federal budget for 2017 shows an increase on the appropriations that go to the EOIR from 420 million dollars to 428.2 million.  There were no cuts, and in my opinion, even knowing that most of the EOIR budget goes to many other priorities, it is very hard to understand why SOSi would want interpreters to provide the same services for less money. (https://www.justice.gov/jmd/file/821961/download)

    Dear friends and colleagues, I sincerely hope that my appreciations are all wrong and SOSi will honor the contracts, discard the “lower-bid” system that they seem to spouse, and things continue to improve for our immigration court colleagues; but in the event that I may be totally, or even partly right, I believe our colleagues will be better served by sounding the alarm and being in a state of alert and ready to act once again. There are just too many loose ends that require not just an explanation, but a public general commitment by SOSi not to go back to last year’s unsuccessful attempt to pay less for professional interpreting services. I now ask you to please share your thoughts on this issue, and if you have solid evidence (not wishful thinking) to prove my conclusions wrong, please share them with the rest of us.

     

  3. 7 Words That Mean The Opposite Of What They Used To

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    7 Words That Mean The Opposite Of What They Used To

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    by James Hunt

    If you’re the sort of person who gets bent out of shape over the misuse of words like less and fewer, if you hate that literally no longer means literally, and if you could stand to care less about people saying they could care less, then we’ve got bad news for you: Language rarely does what you think it should. Even the most basic of words can substantially change their meanings over time. To prove it, here are seven words that used to mean something, and now mean exactly the opposite.

    1. AWESOME

    First documented circa 1600 as part of Early Modern English, the original meaning of awesome is hardly obscured: something which inspires or is full of awe. But when it was coined it referred to awe as in terror, rather than the modern form, “amazement.” Of course, given the frequency with which it turns up in modern conversation, maybe it’s not quite the superlative it once was.

    2. SILLY

    In Middle English, the word seely meant happy. But by the time people were pronouncing (and spelling) it as silly, it had come to mean someone innocent or deserving of pity or sympathy. From there it came to mean naive and unsophisticated, before arriving at its modern usage of ignorant or foolish.

    3. EGREGIOUS

    Traced back to its etymological root, egregious comes from the Latin ex grege, meaning “rising above the flock.” In a very specific way, it meant exceptional or distinguished. The word arrived in English in the early 1500s and by the turn of the 1600s, a century of deliberately ironic usage had twisted the word’s meaning to the point where, even now, you only really see someone describe something as egregious if it’s also bad (as in an egregious error).

    4. AWFUL

    As if to prove that there’s absolutely no logic to language change, while awesome was going on its journey from bad to good, awful was going in the opposite direction. Originally, in the 1300s, it meant something awe-inspiring, worthy of respect and admiration. It was only in the 1800s that it came to mean something specifically bad.

    5. TERRIFIC

    If you squint you can probably see how the word terrific—first documented in the 1660s—could mean “frightening.” Something terrific filled you with terror; it was literally terrifying. In the mid-18th century, terrific came to mean something great or severe, and by the late 19th century it had morphed into its modern meaning: excellent.

    6. SMART

    In late Old English, something smeart was painful or stinging. Indeed, that meaning survives in the form “that smarts.” It wasn’t long before smart came to mean someone with quick wit (as in, having a sharp tongue), and from there it became associated with general intelligence.

    7. NICE

    It almost boggles the mind to imagine that a word so tepid and noncommittal in its praise might have once been offensive, but it arrived into English from the Old French nice, where it meant foolish or weak. During the middle ages it came to mean shy, reserved, or fastidious, and it was only in the mid- to late 1700s—when society began to deem those qualities respectable—that the word started to take on positive meanings.

  4. We’ve Stopped Translating Children’s Books Into English. Where Will We Get the Next Tintin?

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    We’ve Stopped Translating Children’s Books Into English. Where Will We Get the Next Tintin?16

    translations_color

    Tina Kugler

    This is a story about Moomins. I just love Moomins. I always have.

    But perhaps you have no clue what I’m talking about? Moomins were important in my childhood, but I know that many people grew up without them. (Though, as is so often the way with childhood reading, I can’t imagine how.) Moomins feature in one of my favorite series of books, created in the ’40s by a genius called Tove Jansson, and they are funny. They’re trippy, and dreamy, sometimes melancholy and often wise. They’re also Finnish.

    I shall return to the Moomins shortly. Because meanwhile, in another part of the forest, a small Gaulish village is still holding out against the invaders. A warrior called Astérix, his friend Obelix, the druid Panoramix, the dog Idéfix … they’re funny, too. (And punny.) Yes, Astérix was another favorite of mine. As were Pippi LongstockingTintinPinocchio, various books of fairy tales … and possibly The Little Prince? But yeah, mostly Asterix. Or rather “Astérix,” with the accent—if we’re going to be properly French about it.

    When I call it “Astérix” rather than “Asterix” it’s not an affectation. It’s an attempt to draw a distinction between Astérix, and Asterix, just as I might distinguish between The Little Prince and Le Petit Prince. They’re the same, and not the same.

    Because what I really read, growing up in London, was Asterix, not Astérix. I read The Little Prince—not Le Petit Prince—and I read English Finnish Moomins and English German fairy tales and Danish fairy tales and French fairy tales. All of them, as far as I knew, great landmarks in English children’s literature, sitting comfortably alongside Winnie-the-Pooh and Maurice Sendak, Roald Dahl and Eric Carle and Alice. I didn’t know, I think, what translation was. I didn’t know that the Asterix jokes that made me laugh were by a brilliant woman called Anthea Bell. You may know that the words to the original Tintin were written by his Belgian illustrator, Hergé—but who wrote the English Tintin? If you once read The Little Prince rather than Le Petit Prince, to whom are you indebted for those words?

    I think their names are important. It was Katherine Woods who picked up a pen in 1943 and wrote “Draw me a sheep…” It was Leslie Lonsdale-Cooper and Michael Turner who filled Captain Haddock’s speech bubbles with billions of blue blistering barnacles. We owe them a lot.

    What we read defines our horizons. As a child I had no idea that Asterix was translated but Little Women wasn’t, that Ursula Le Guin wrote in English but Pippi Longstocking needed a second writer to make her exploits readable by the likes of me. I didn’t know, or care. I knew, however, that with every new book I loved I was discovering a new way for a story to be funny, or to be exciting, or to make me wonder. These translated books—just like their English-language cousins—were just more worlds of experience. They were story and characters and voice, and the questions they asked and the pictures they painted and the emotions they stirred in a reader.

    I’ve never really believed that children experience stories differently to adults, not fundamentally; but children are newer to the world than we are, which means the books they read have a certain special potential. For a reader just beginning to put names to things, just beginning to calibrate life’s rules and limits, books can offer answers—or rather, they can frame questions in such a way that the answers seem a little closer. So if stories can help children make sense of the world, surely these stories should be as various as they can be. Reading for me was a kind of exploration, dependent on the possibility of unexpected discovery, of surprise. Freedom to roam that world-size forest of stories, to take intriguing sidetracks or stop and look about you—a world away from the stifling tyranny of the assigned reading, the expectation that every kid in class study the same few books, and find in them the same predictable things.

    Last year I published a reference book, The Oxford Companion to Children’s Literature. When I set out, I knew I wanted to talk about a whole world of children’s books. But it turns out that most of the whole world is hard to find nowadays. I included entries on those foreign books that enriched the old canon: The Little Prince,Astrid Lindgren, the Brothers Grimm, and all the rest. They made us readers, these books—they made a lot of us writers, too. But they came to English 40, 60, 100 years ago—where’s all the stuff that’s happened since?

    I recently went to a major London bookshop, a good one, and did some counting. I found 2,047 children’s books, of which 2,018 were by English-language writers and 29 were translations. Of those 29, the number of living writers represented was … 6.

    Is this because nobody else in the world is writing anything for children worth reading? Well, even if you argue that the Anglophone world is atypical for the number and quality and—by some metrics—the variety of its children’s books, still it seems improbable. Six point seven billion people in the world whose first language isn’t English, and none of them are writing good children’s books? Nobody but us—however you choose to define that problematic “us”—has a story worth telling?

    How many languages are now spoken in homes and schools in New York, say, or London? But where do kids in those cities go to find the brilliant new stories by Polish or Colombian or Syrian or Turkish or Chinese children’s writers? These writers exist, I can assure you. And yet for some reason we deprive our children of their stories, and we impoverish them in the process. In the real world, if you build a wall around your culture, it’s never just the other guys who pay for it.

    I should declare a certain partiality. I’m a translator, and we translators are vocationally inclined toward pushing back any literary horizon. We’ve long complained about the mainstream publishing market’s reluctance to deal in translated work—in world literature, if you like. Well, getting children’s books translated makes the adult ones look like, well, child’s play.

    Of course France and Germany have robust, thriving children’s book worlds, which have survived our attempts to bury them with translated Potters and Twilights; fantastic things are happening in children’s writing and illustration there, just as they are in Scandinavia, and Brazil, and Italy, and most places you might choose to look. But something happens between those native French and German and Brazilian books and the British and American markets—or rather, doesn’t happen. The channels through which we were first brought Tintin and Asterix and those Moomins, those German and Danish fairy tales, The Little Prince, are all but closed. Where, then, will we find the Moomins of tomorrow?

    We are lucky to have publishers whose explicit mission is to build their lists by looking outward. Houses like Enchanted Lion, Pushkin Children’s Books in the U.K., and Gecko Press in New Zealand, along with many honorable others, are all doing good work. And I don’t believe they’re all publishing the world’s books because it’s worthy to do so, but because there are all these great stories out there. And most importantly, readers like them. Their translated-ness, it turns out, does not make them bad, or difficult, or even uncommercial.

    Which brings me to a question: Should we even be drawing attention to the foreignness of these foreign books for children? Is that a celebration, or a lazy ghettoization? I’m in two minds. (As a translator, that’s where I spend a lot of my time.) Because there’s still a resistance to perceived “foreignness”—on our children’s behalf. (Though has anyone ever heard an actual child say, No, I don’t want to read that one, it’s a translation?) This thinking suggests children will only enjoy books that mirror their own experience—the way only real pioneer children enjoyed Little House on the Prairie, and only actual wizards want to read Harry Potter.

    We have an all too narrow view of how children might enjoy reading, and the most miserly ambitions for where that reading might come from. Do we really believe that books matter to children—that they challenge and stretch a reader’s sympathy, curiosity, understanding? If so, we’re failing them. Those of us who write and translate, who commission and publish children’s books—and I’m afraid those of us who buy them, too. Those of us raised on a diet of Babar and Hans Christian Andersen, who should know better than to be scared of Belgians and Moomins and Gauls. When I talk to friends in other countries, I’m given a tantalizing picture of what we’re missing: a world of stories being told to children—and we have, somehow, stopped looking.

    Daniel Hahn is a writer, editor, and translator. His recent books include a new edition of The Oxford Companion to Children’s Literatureand the English translation of A General Theory of Oblivion by the Angolan writer José Eduardo Agualusa.

  5. 11 Cuban Sayings That Should Be Used In English

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    11 Cuban Sayings That Should Be Used In English

    “Every country has its own idioms, or phrases that don’t mean exactly what they seem. One classic English example is if someone is ‘pulling your leg’—that means they’re lying. Why? There’s probably an answer somewhere, but who cares? This article is about amazing Cuban phrases and how we should totally use them in English.”

    Read 11 Cuban Sayings: http://bit.ly/CubanSayings

  6. ANNE-SYLVIE HOMASSEL AND HER AUTHORS

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    “This I love: being possessed by a snaky string of words, processing them and spouting them out in another language.”

    Anne-Sylvie Homassel is a literary translator, English to French. In addition, she is currently learning Japanese. She decided to answer our questions in English.

    How did you start translating literature? What are “your” authors and languages?

    In my early twenties, I found myself trapped in an academic curriculum–philosophy, an obvious cul-de-sac for all concerned, except myself. I should have studied English, really. Eventually I saw the light and decided to put an end to my academical misery by translating an essay by George BerkeleyThe Querist. This was my parting shot at university (the French philosophy professors, I felt, despising these two things, English philosophy and translating in lieu of writing a proper dissertation). And then I met with Xavier Legrand-Ferronnière, who at the time was editing a fanzine specialized in ghost stories and weird literature. I was an avid reader of Wilkie Collins and other Victorians. The gap was not too wide between these and the authors Xavier publishes and I started translating short stories for Le Visage vert, the quarterly Xavier created in 1995. Le Visage vert provided me with quite a few wonderful encounters, such as Max Beerbohm, Mary Shelley, Lord Dunsany, Rhoda Broughton, Arthur Machen, Ernest Bramah, M. P. Shiel, Ethel Mannin among others. These are not my authors though–a relation you could hardly expect from writers of the past, who most of the time have been already, if too rarely, translated. But I certainly have a soft spot for them all. And beside Le Visage vert, I have now a full-fledged activity as a free-lance literary translator, which includes personal projects (for instance, Chants du cauchemar et de la nuit, by Thomas LigottiLa Bombe, by Frank Harris and Insectes, by Lafcadio Hearn) and commissions from publishers (among others, these two wonderful novels by Iain (M) BanksEfroyabl Ange1 and Un chant de pierre). In between is Henry Darger, whose colossal work I started to explore with the support of the French publishing house Aux forges de Vulcain.

    In addition, I have been dragged –joyfully– into an other small press venture and am translating poetry and short stories for The Black Herald, a bilingual venture created in 2010 by Blandine Longre and Paul Stubbs.

    What do you like /dislike about your job as a literary translator?

    Obviously there’s the thrill of transferring–or is it transposing?– meanings and rhythms from one language to another. There is always a moment in the translating process when I get, erm, sort of high with the sheer physical excitement of producing a text. Most of the time, I have to speak it loud. I’m at the keyboard, the book on one side and the text on the screen and I do chant. This I love: being possessed by a snaky string of words, processing them and spouting them out in another language.

    What is the most enriching experience you have had?

    Translating Max Beerbohm’s Seven Men (Sept personnages) was a blessing and it came very early in my life as a translator. Then I had an other of those epiphanic moments with Iain M Banks’ Feersum Endjinn (Efroyabl Ange1) and with W. S. Graham’s poetry, which I translated with Blandine Longre (The Dark Dialogues / Les Dialogues obscurs). Each of these writers was providing me with a perfect structure, so close-knit, so achingly harmonious I really had to get into my best trance to get the point. These processes have also nurtured my own processes as a writer. You cannot get so intimately into contact with this kind of writing without being affected by it. It certainly making you far more self-critical of your own production.

    What made you feel closest to an author?

    Her or his own closeness to words, if that means anything.

    What have you found most difficult to translate?

    Erm–badly edited YA literature. But that happened only once. And YA can be great fun.

    What have you enjoyed most translating?

    Besides Beerbohm, Banks and Graham, Mary Shelley, Vanessa Veselka whose first novel, Zazen, I was lucky to translate. And Lord Dunsany (but I’d like to be able to amend my translations, which I think might not be exactly what Dunsany deserves). And Lafcadio Hearn, who is my current infatuation, if I may say so.

    On a slightly different plan, may I add that I greatly enjoy translating essays? That might be the legacy of The QueristPour la santé de la terreAldo Leopold’s collection of essays for José Corti was a pleasure to assemble and translate. A well-written essay, such as Harvey Sachs’s Reflexions on Toscanini (Réflexions sur Toscanini), will provide the translator with an other sort of excitement. One is becoming more clever.

    Which author would you love to translate?

    I have quite a few projects in my drawers. For instance, Siegfried Sassoon’s War Diaries. But when I’m old, I for sure will translate for my own pleasure Brontë’s Wuthering Heights and Hogg’sConfessions of a Justified Sinner.

    If you were not a literary translator, what would you do?

    I would tend a tiny bar in Golden Gai.

    Translated novels, essays and collections by:

    Fritz Leiber, Max Beerbohm, Lord Dunsany, Arthur Conan Doyle, Arthur Machen, W. Wilkie Collins, Ernest Bramah, Thorne Smith, Sax Rohmer, Jean Collier, Kris Saknussemm, Robert Freeman Wexler, Jim Shepard, Mark Twain, Kate Morton, Tod Robbins, Anne de Jong, Mark Walden, Frederick Treves, Jenn Ashworth, Willa Cather, Jamie James, Linwood Barclay, L. Frank Baum, Vanessa Veselka, Iain (M) Banks, Lisa Ballantyne, Cate Tiernan, Michael Arlen, Herman Melville, W. S. Graham, Robert Crais, Jack London, Gillian Weiss, Henry Darger, Catherine Jinks, Klara Kiss, Aldo Leopold, Dexter Palmer, Thomas Ligotti, Harvey Sachs, Hector Tobar, Frank Harris, Donald Richie, Lafcadio Hearn, Stephen Kiernan. Currently working on a novel by John Freeman Gill.

    Stories and poetry by:

    Mary Shelley, H. G. Wells, Bram Stoker, M. P. Shiel, Roger Dobson, H. Rider Haggard, Oliver Onions, Edward Heron-Allen, Rhoda Broughton, A.N.L. Munby, William Charlton, Stephen Leacock, Bret Harte, E. F. Benson, R. A. Cram, John Buchan, Jessica Amanda Salmonson, Howard Pyle, H. V. Chao, William Page, Valeria Melchioretto, Mark Wilson, Andrew Fentham, Alistair Noon, Sadie Hoagland, Allan Graubard, Steve Ely, Desmond Kon, Alistair Ian Blyth, David Spittle, Olive Moore, Divya Victor. Currently working on a short story by Livia Llewellyn (wip).

    http://authors-translators.blogspot.com/2016/03/anne-sylvie-homassel-and-her-authors.html?view=timeslide