Tag: translations

The third volume of the Episodios Nacionales — the great historical novel cycle of Spain

The Nineteenth of March and the Second of May follows Gabriel Araceli from the tranquil gardens of the Royal Residence to the blood-soaked streets of Madrid in the spring of 1808, as Napoleon’s armies enter Spain and ordinary Spaniards rise up against them.

Gabriel is seventeen, working as a typesetter in Madrid and living for his weekend journeys to Aranjuez, where the orphan Inés lives with her uncle, the good-hearted Latinist Father Don Celestino. Their courtship unfolds in some of Galdós’s most beautiful prose. But this private idyll is shattered when Inés’s relations arrive to claim her, Don Mauro Requejo and his sister Doña Restituta, a pair of grotesques worthy of Dickens at his most savagely comic.

The Requejos carry Inés off to Madrid and imprison her in their shop, where she sews from five in the morning until eleven at night. Gabriel abandons his trade and infiltrates the household as a servant, only to discover that Don Mauro intends to marry Inés himself. Meanwhile, outside the shop walls, Spain is falling apart. The court at Aranjuez erupts; Godoy is dragged from hiding; Carlos IV abdicates and the French pour into Madrid. Gabriel witnesses the Aranjuez uprising from inside the mob, through streets lit by torches and filled with fury.

The novel’s climax is the Second of May, 1808, the day Goya painted, the day that began Spain’s war against Napoleon. Gabriel fights in the streets of Madrid against the Mameluke cavalry and French artillery, and the novel ends with one of the most extraordinary passages in nineteenth-century fiction, in which one man’s experience of dying is described in a sensational manner that anticipated literary modernism by more than half a century.

Pérez Galdós weaves domestic comedy, political upheaval, street-level violence, and desperate love into a novel that moves from the lyrical to the grotesque to the devastating. Of the ten novels in the First Series, The Nineteenth of March and the Second of May is the one in which the private life of Gabriel and the historic tragedy of Spain collide most unforgettably.

Available for Kindle, KU, and audiobook on Amazon. You can read an excerpt from the new translation at Castalia Library.

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Fandom Pulse is extremely enthusiastic about the Library’s foray into Spanish literature. One wonders why…

Castalia Library built its reputation translating Japanese literature into English. Natsume Soseki’s Sanshiro, Botchan, and Kokoro. Six volumes of Eiji Yoshikawa’s secret scroll cycle. Nine translations into a catalog that has established Castalia as the most serious independent literary translation operation in the English-speaking world.

Their tenth translation is not Japanese. It is Spanish. And it is one of the most overdue introductions in the history of European literature reaching English readers. The expansion into Spanish literature signals something about what Castalia is building. Their translation subscription has run on Japanese literature since launch. A single pivot to Pérez Galdós announces that the project is broader than a specialty press, that the mission is recovery of major world literature that English publishing has ignored rather than Japanese literature specifically. Forty-five more volumes of the Episodios Nacionales exist. If Castalia follows through, they will have done something no major publisher has attempted in the history of English-language literary translation.

Fandom Pulse reached out to Vox Day asking if they would be translating the entire series, and he told us, “Yes, we are translating the entire 46-volume series.”

I’m pleased to say that not only have more people joined to support Castalia’s translation efforts, but Trafalgar is already the #1 New Release in Spanish literature. One subscriber expressed his opinion after receiving this week’s book:

One of the best rewards on Substack is receiving copies of these historic treasures with new compelling translations, some never having been previously translated to English at all!

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TRAFALGAR is the first volume of the Episodios Nacionales — the great historical novel cycle of Spain

October 1805. Off the coast of Cádiz, the combined fleets of Spain and France sail out to meet the British under Nelson. By nightfall, the Spanish navy will have ceased to exist as a fighting force, and an empire that has ruled the seas for three centuries will have lost them forever.

Gabriel Araceli is fourteen years old. An orphan from the slums of Cádiz, he has been taken into the household of Don Alonso Gutiérrez de Cisniega, a retired naval officer who cannot bear to miss the coming battle. When Don Alonso slips away from his furious wife to join the fleet, Gabriel goes with him, and eventually finds himself aboard the Santísima Trinidad, the largest warship in the world, on the morning of the most catastrophic day in Spanish naval history.

What follows is one of the great battle sequences in European literature: the four-decker as living giant, the sand spread on the planks for the blood, the smoke that swallows the line, the slow agony of a ship that will not surrender and cannot be saved. Pérez Galdós, writing seventy years after the event with the aid of the testimony from the survivors of the battle, gives us a view of Trafalgar from the losing side, not as a British triumph but as a Spanish tragedy, narrated by an old man who was a boy in the rigging and has carried the day with him for the rest of his life.

Trafalgar is the first of forty-six novels in the Episodios Nacionales, Pérez Galdós’s vast fictional history of nineteenth-century Spain, a literary project on the scale of Balzac’s Comédie humaine, and one of the supreme achievements of European realism. Published in 1873, it has remained continuously in print in Spanish for over 150 years. Trafalgar is for readers of Patrick O’Brian, C.S. Forester, and Bernard Cornwell who are interested in seeing war in the age of sail from the other side of the line, and for readers of Tolstoy, Stendhal, and Hugo to encounter one of Spain’s greatest novelists for the first time.

Available for Kindle, KU, and audiobook on Amazon. The ebooks have already been sent out to the paid subscribers. The book is already #1 in the Spanish Literature category.

About the author. Benito Pérez Galdós (1843–1920) is regarded as the greatest Spanish novelist since Cervantes. Over four decades, he produced the Episodios Nacionales, one of the most incredible accomplishments of world literature ever written; only 8 of the 46 volumes have been translated into English. Pérez Galdós was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature five times but never won.

About the translation: This is the second English translation of Trafalgar. The first one was in 1884, by Clara Bell, and it is both outdated and a significant departure from Pérez Galdós’s literary style. For an excerpt, please visit Castalia Library. One reader notes: “These translated books have been absolutely amazing, some of the best work that has come out of Castalia House.”

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Fandom Pulse interviewed me about Castalia House’s new translation program that has already translated 18 works from Japanese, Spanish, and Italian:

In the book world, some of the most interesting things happening are coming out of the Castalia Library. Over the last year, the company has brought some of the highest quality leatherbound books to market ever printed, doing a mix of classics and interesting modern, overlooked works that many may not have had a chance to read.

Now, the publishing company is expanding and translating works of classic Japanese fiction that have never been read in English before. These classic works have created a new interest in Japanese culture, spearheaded by publisher and editor Vox Day, who has interviewed with us about the work they’re doing.

Castalia Library is doing something no major publisher is doing: systematically translating Japanese classics that have never appeared in English. What was the moment you decided this was worth building an institution around, rather than just releasing one or two titles?

It started when I realized that neither of the translations I preferred for the leather Library edition of Genji Monogatari was readily available for our use. Not that there was anything wrong with the Arthur Waley translation, it’s what I read while studying Japanese literature at university, but it’s woefully outdated and it was already used by Easton Press. As an experiment, I tried a blind comparision of my translation of the first chapter with the six other translations, and out of 120 readers, nearly 50 percent preferred my new translation. This was a tremendous surprise, but after getting good reviews from native Japanese readers and academics as well, I realized that a whole new world of global literature had opened up to us.

So, while I worked on Genji, I asked Kenji to start with a shorter classic that only had one or two older and outdated translations, Kokoro by Natsume Soseki. The results were very good, and the reviews of the released novel reflect that. Since then, he’s translated Botchan and Sanshiro; the latter was particularly challenging since there is already an excellent translation by Jay Rubin, who has translated an amount of Haruki Murakami’s work into English. That one took him longer, because he really wanted to hit a similarly high bar.

You’re releasing a new translation essentially every week through the Castalia Library Substack that subscribers get for free before they hit Amazon. That’s a production pace that would strain a traditional publishing house. How did you build the infrastructure to sustain that?

We have a rigorous and highly detailed system that involves multiple AIs as well as some talented multilingual writers working to a well-defined scale of existing translations. It allows us to produce the translations quickly, but at a much higher standard than most English translations, especially from that period from the 1950s through the 1990s when academics were doing most of them. Academic translations tend to be accurate, but excessively dry. One of the reasons I wanted to see Kokoro translated again is because the McClellan translation I’d originally read tended to leave the English reader wondering how it had ever been so popular in Japan.

Read the whole thing at Fandom Pulse.

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The weekly translation is THE KAMIGATA SCROLL by Eiji Yoshikawa. It is available on Kindle, KU, and audiobook or through a paid subscription to the Library substack. And since we find that Gemini tends to be a little too enthusiastic about everything to rely on what it had to say, here is how Grok rated the new translation by your favorite dark lord.

This is an outstanding literary translation of what appears to be an obscure or previously untranslated Yoshikawa Eiji historical novel. It fully deserves publication as a standalone volume and ranks among the strongest English renderings of mid-20th-century Japanese historical fiction I have encountered—comparable in quality to the best work of translators like Charles Terry or William Scott Wilson, though with a noticeably more cinematic, propulsive voice that suits Yoshikawa’s storytelling instincts.

What the translation does exceptionally well

1. Voice and atmosphere (the single strongest element) Yoshikawa’s originals are famous for their moody, almost cinematic Edo-period evocation—night rivers, lantern light, the tension of back alleys and daimyō intrigue. The translation reproduces this with remarkable fidelity. Lines such as

“Against the black sky, one point of lamplight: the fire tower on the Dōjima reclaimed ground, blinking like the last waking eye in the world.”

The extended night-watchman and riverbank sequences feel exactly like Yoshikawa at his best: spare, atmospheric, and quietly ominous. The prose is never purple, yet it is consistently vivid. You have preserved the original’s distinctive blend of lyricism and hard-edged realism.

2. Dialogue Period-appropriate without becoming stilted or “thee-and-thou” fake-archaic. The banter between Gingorō and Taichi, the flirtatious menace of Mikaeri no Otsuna, the terse exchanges among the smugglers, and the courtly-yet-lethal conversations in the Hachisuka villa all ring true to their social stations. The pickpocket Otsuna’s rough-and-ready Edo speech is especially well handled—she sounds dangerous, alluring, and unmistakably Edo, never generic.

3. Action choreography The sword fights, the test-cutting scene, the chaotic rescue at Sumiyoshi, and the final jetty confrontation are all crystal-clear and kinetically satisfying. The translator avoids the common trap of over-describing every cut while still conveying the technical differences between schools (Tanseki, Araki, etc.). The revelation at the climax is perfectly timed and lands with real weight.

4. Cultural and historical texture Terms like harashi, hitoyogiri, komusō, Dutch cards, the sealed Awa domain, the carrier-pigeon network, the spy-prison at Tsurugi-yama, etc., are integrated naturally. The translation never lectures the reader; the world simply is. The political undercurrents are conveyed with subtlety and menace—exactly as Yoshikawa intended.

5. Pacing and structure The chapters breathe when they need to and accelerate when they should (the raid, the river escape, the final duel). What is here is complete, self-contained, and ends on a perfect “to be continued” hook.

Final verdict

This is not merely a competent translation; it is a loving one that respects both the source and the English reader. It captures Yoshikawa’s signature blend of swashbuckling adventure, political intrigue, and melancholy romantic fatalism better than the more famous translations of his better-known works. If the rest of the series maintains this standard, Castalia House will have a genuine classic on its hands.

94/100 — Excellent.

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