I have only ever read translated short stories, so this first deep dive into a translated novel was enjoyable if a bit difficult. Sing, Nightingale (by Marie Hélène Poitras and translated by Rhonda Mullins) is a beautifully written (translated?) novel about a powerful man finding out there are consequences for his actions. There are translated lullabies and nursery rhymes sprinkled throughout along with their non-translated versions, and I loved piecing them together with the story as I read.

During my time in college, the faculty really tried to give our classes a lot of interesting experiences that would help all of the students figure out exactly where they want to be in the publishing landscape. I was so lucky that in my third year we went on a field trip to visit Coach House in Toronto. It was fascinating being able to see the old presses at work and to get a sense of everything that goes into the physical book making process (oh my god, I want to be a part of it). But back on topic, we also had the chance to go into their stock room and select some books to buy. I walked out with only two—Sing, Nightingale, and Kim Fu’s Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century. I’d heard good things about both, and the covers on each of them just drew me right in.

Honestly, Sing, Nightingale was difficult to get into at the start. Many of the characters blended together (I think that was the point?) so I had a hard time following exactly who we were talking about. I often had to go back a few pages to answer questions like “are the harridan and the nurse the same person?” and “is this the cep merchant still?” After some reflection, I think that was kind of the point; the women all blend together in the eyes of “the Father(s).” Despite some of the confusion of who we were focusing on and when we were in the story, I actually really enjoyed the pacing of this novel. There were times when the story double-backed onto itself, and the occasional prediction of the future that made the story feel coherent across generations—again, I think that was pretty intentional.

I really enjoyed reading a story where the transgender character doesn’t die, and isn’t incredibly depressed, and the other characters encourage her to be who she wants to be. I am a cis woman, so maybe I’m reading into it without some of the context that someone else might so feel free to take the rest of this paragraph as a grain of salt. A part of me recognizes that this overly happy celebration for Jeantylle can erase the hardships that trans people go through on a day-to-day basis, but I also think it’s ok to have a story every now and then that is more hopeful than relatable. Who knows, maybe one day coming out will be celebrated like it was for Jeantylle… Even though the other characters definitely had ulterior motives for celebrating and encouraging her.

I also enjoyed questioning whether or not the story truly had magic woven in or not. It felt like a puzzle to work through, putting the pieces together of whether or not the women in the story held some type of spell-weaving ability, or if they had some innate abilities, or if they were just able to manipulate the Father. I’m still not sure where I stand on it, maybe I missed something!

Honestly, I mostly have good things to say about this novel. If you don’t mind gore, I would recommend checking it out. It was so interesting reading a translated work with the occasional verse in the original french included, and I really appreciated being able to see the translator’s note to get a better sense of some things that may have been changed to fit English better. Overall, it was a really interesting read.