WORKS BY PACHYAN, DAVTYAN AND HOVSEPYN FEATURED IN ASYMPTOTE JOURNAL
In the Special Feature of Asymptote October 2022 edition a number of Armenian authors were featured. Among them are writers of the ARI Literary Agency Aram Pachyan, Anna Davtyan and Sargis Hovsepyan. See the links below to read their pieces in Asymptote Journal.
An extract from Aram Pachyan’s novel P/F translated by Nazareth Seferian was published in the Armenian literature issue of Asymptote journal.
Within me I have neither a sea, nor an ocean, and I am closed to boundless expanses; I have neither the inclination nor the ambition to be in the sky or space. I love to watch the sky as I stand on the ground, I love to watch the stars from the roof of our house. Everyone should stay in their place, the sky should be the sky and the ground should be the ground. Within me I have neither a sea, nor an ocean, enough already, I am tired of my freedom, tired of cafés, clubs, soft chairs, honey-drenched pastries, salt sticks and jerky, meaningless troubles, and forced laughter.
Read full translation here.
An extract from Anna Davtyan’s novel Khanna translated by Laurie Alvandian was published in the Armenian literature issue of Asymptote journal.
She clearly remembered the cow skull lying under the red plum tree the first time they went to open the door to Lev’s house. There was no lock on the door; the two hoops were held together by bale rope, the color of which had faded under the white sun. The door had old honey-colored glass, and the gathered dust, spiderwebs, and oil brought on nausea. The hall was empty; four faded walls with two doors on either side.
Read full translation here.
Sargis Hovsepyan’s short story Flat Rock translated by Nazareth Seferian was published in the Armenian literature issue of Asymptote.
Flat Rock was a secure position; one could even call it embarrassingly safe. At least, it was when we climbed up to it. We would lie in the sun the whole day, surrounded by grass, our nostrils catching the fresh smell of thyme, and we would wrap ourselves in our sleeping bags at night, our foreheads gathering dew as we tried to pick up sounds in the distance. And we would wait. In the morning, when we were still fresh, when the rays of the autumn sun had not yet numbed our bodies, imagination and thoughts, we would strike our shovels to the soil for a bit, scratch the rocks a little and, getting bored quickly, we would soon cast our work aside and once again submit ourselves to the sun.
You can read the full translation here.