Daughter of Here is an experiment in memory, desire, and time. As she sifts through an international whirlwind romance with Célestin, her larger-than-life love for her daughter Mo, and her own childhood behind the Iron Curtain, Dolores's narrative shifts from Williamsburg, to Tokyo, to Bucharest before and after the fall, and to Cairo at the first spark of the Arab Spring. Filmic and thought-provoking, this novel straddles the political and the personal with ease and eloquence.
About the authors
Ioana Georgescu is an artist and novelist. Her performance art, video installations, photographs, painting, and drawing have been presented in North America, the Middle East, and Asia. She is the author of three novels, Évanouissement à Shinjuku (2005), L'homme d'Asmara (2010) and La Jetée. Elle s'appellera Mo (2013), published by Les Éditions Marchand de feuilles. Georgescu holds a PhD in Comparative Literature, and has taught cinema and cross-disciplinary courses in the Italian and English (Cultural Studies) departments at McGill University. Born in Bucharest, she lives in Montreal.
Katia Grubisic's poems and short stories, translations, and reviews have appeared in numerous periodicals, including the Globe and Mail, Books in Canada, Arc, the Antigonish Review, the Croatian Reader, CV2, ellipse, the Nashwaak Review, Grain Magazine, and Matrix. She is presently an editor for the New Quarterly and formerly a member of the editorial boards for Qwerty and the Fiddlehead. Her work has been shortlisted for the CBC Literary Awards and the Descant / Winston Collins Prize for poetry. She presently lives in Montreal.
Excerpt: Daughter of Here (by (author) Ioana Georgescu; translated by Katia Grubisic)
When I was a child, I met a Sudanese man. He had come to Bucharest to study medicine. According to family lore, he wanted to marry me and take me away to Khartoum. I was ready. I already had a white dress. I wonder if that Sudanese man is still alive, if he went home after finishing medical school in Bucharest. Subconsciously, I'm still the bride of Khartoum. Maybe that's why I would have wanted things with Célestin to start there. What remains of that wish is a photograph, a postcard. In my head, that's where we met.