No. 1 - Year 11 - 12/2020
10.15291/sic/1.11

Editorial

Editorial

This issue, the third issue of [sic] in 2020, as twenty-some before, offers original scholarly work dwelling within the interdisciplinary and multidisciplinary realm of literary and cultural theories and literary translation. It inspires to look upon diverse set of fragments, of bits, of pieces, that surround our everyday life and the various issues surrounding the aforementioned fields. Sense of (not)belonging, issues of trauma, memory, censorship, imprisonment, and womens rights are at the forefront of our contributors’ work tackling diverse pieces of world literature or media outlets.

Gordana Čupković’s “Wire on Covers” brings the semantic analysis of the motif of barbed wire in the media, labeled by the political context of the current migrant crisis. Pieces continue to align in Anna Swoboda’s analysis, which provides insight into the work of Ken Bugul, incorporating postcolonial thought of Homi Bhabha with the issue of Mac Augé's non-places. The link between seemingly unrelated pieces continues with the relationship between sociology and literary studies. Vesna Ukić Košta, therefore, in her paper “Middle-Aged Men’s Traumas and Elusive Freedom in Hanif Kureishi’s Short Stories” deals with Kureishi’s short stories from the perspective of Zygmunt Baumann’s theories of liquid modernity and liquid love. The same rationale is present in Marzieh Kouchaki, Hassan Shahabi, Shahram Raise Sistan’s work on cultural capital and women’s subordination in the marriage field in Elizabeth Gaskell’s Wives and Daughters and Parinoush Saniee’s The Book of Fate. Maja Pandžić’s work on early detective fiction compares pieces in American and Russian writing (primarily those by Edgar Allan Poe and A. A. Shkljarevskij) and sets important steping stones for further exploration of early Russian detective fiction. Lucy Jeffery looks at the issues of remembering past in the work of Magda Szabó, the most translated Hungarian author, and explores the interconnections between Magda Szabó’ biography and the shifting historical context in which she wrote. Tijana Parezanović and Maja Ćuk explore the missing pieces of the social and spatial fabric of urban postwar life in their analysis of the fantastic of space in Muriel Spark’s novella The Girls of Slender Means. Lovro Škopljanac, on the other hand, finds the missing pieces of the Croatian haiku and brings us one step closer to solving the 5-7-5-piece-puzzle. Edin Badić and Sandra Ljubas try to piece together the censorship in Croatian translations of Pippi Longstocking. The literature and culture section closes with three reviews by Ana Ille Horvat, Irena Jurković, and Branka Kovačević.

All pieces fall into place in our translation section that opens with a conversation between Ariana Harwitz, an award winning Argentine author, and Mikaël Gómez Guthart, a writer, translator and literary critic, who both, for their own reasons, abandoned and went out of their languages only to find them again – in translation. The translation section also brings a heart-wrenching story by Luiz Viela, one of the most prominent Brazilian writers, wonderfully translated by Paul Melo e Castro. Ivana Bošnjak translates no less than ten poetry pieces by James Meetzee, revealing the dark arts of the phantom hour, while James Ritchie’s translation picks up on all the pieces of Elena Guro’s crumbling Arlekin, The Beggar. The section closes with five flash fiction pieces from Algeria, Egypt, Lybia, Marocco, and Tunisia, five gems by Yasmina Saleh, Mahmoud Kandeel, Ali Lateef, Hassan Bekkali, and Brahim Draghouthi discovered by Essam M. Al-Jassim.

Many pieces, pieced together in the third issue of [sic] – a Journal of Literature, Culture and Literary Translation published in a year in which, well, everything is falling to pieces and often making us look back at when things were, like our cover, black and white, or when the only C followed by a number was the one marking low noise and HQ.

So, let’s pick up the pieces – this is all but over. Until then, wear a stupid mask!

Zlatko Bukač and Tomislav Kuzmanović