Irmgard hunt biography of rory

When the network of Nazi camps began to disintegrate in the spring of 1945, many of the prisoners left alive in Stutthof were marched west, away from liberation that was coming with Russia’s advancement from the east. Some were drowned in the Baltic in deliberately scuttled ships. According to credible evidence submitted during her trial, Furchner was one of the last employees to abandon Stutthof before its dissolution. She left with her life laid out ahead of her; she left with a marriage prospect, having met an SS officer who also worked in the camp, a man named Heinz. By the mid-1950s the two newlyweds had moved to a northern town in Germany called Schleswig, presumably eager to leave the past behind.

Florian Kleist

Furchner carried on as an administrative worker, now in a hospital. According to submissions in court, she was said to be an impressively nimble typist, not that her hospital colleagues would ever have believed why. The Furchners lived in a block of flats with a balcony. Life marched on for the couple. Heinz died. Furchner retired and in 2014 she moved by herself into a nursing home, choosing a place on the fringes of a village called Quickborn.

I visited the facility one day. It is a modest complex of hedges, iron fences, and yellow-painted bungalows, nestled under a tall grey wall that partially deadens the roar of a nearby road. I was there with Kleist and we walked around to a rear garden, noticing where the nursing home butted up against the big autobahn wall. The set-up made me think of those paranoid gangsters who were said to have sat with their backs to the wall of restaurants so they could see what was coming, fearful of unwanted surprises.

During her years in obscurity, Fur

Pierre Lemaître’s The Great Swindle is probably the best novel I never reviewed. I have fond memories of a summer’s driving back and forth, to and from the Edinburgh Book Festival, held captive by every second of a narrative 15 hours long. Trouble with audio books and driving, there are no notes to help review afterwards. Still that was a summer I’ll never forget, and I urge you not to miss out on The Great Swindle – it’s terrific, and the film (See you up there) is pretty good too.

All Human Wisdom, released earlier this month, is the second in Lemaître’s between-the-wars trilogy, and my review will appear on the European Literature Network sometime today. Both books have been translated by Frank Wynne, The Great Swindle winning the CWA International Dagger in 2016, an award which Frank Wynne has won 4 times … to date. 😉

In fact, it’s a rare translation prize list that doesn’t include a Frank Wynne translation, and it’s becoming increasing common for him to feature not once but twice on a variety of longlists as he translates from French and Spanish. I won’t list all the awards he has won – I’ll let him do that. 2021 has already delivered its first “Wynner” in the form of Animalia which is the recipient of the 2020 Republic of Consciousness Prize.

So I am absolutely thrilled to welcome Frank to the blog today,

How did your career in literary translation begin?

Like many people of my generation, completely by accident. I have had half a dozen “careers” before I stumbled into literary translation. Having worked in radio in Ireland, I left for Paris at the age of 22 (having never set foot in France, and never spoken the language – since there was no oral exam at leaving cert). I quickly fell in love with the language and the literature, and spent more than three years living in Paris (working in a bookshop). I moved to London with a passion for French and for bandes dessinées, and I ran a small French bookshop in Kensington,

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