#'00s country

[mywifeleftme]

148: Neko Case & Her Boyfriends // Furnace Room Lullaby

Furnace Room Lullaby Neko Case & Her Boyfriends 2000, Mint (Bandcamp)

2000s indie rock had plenty of intelligent, unusual singers who knew how to maximize what gifts nature had allotted to them but there was always a sort of unconscious deference when people talked about Neko Case’s voice—like the one student in an art school class of postmodernist pranksters who can really paint. It’s easy to slag off the old notions of beauty till someone shows up with a vast, grain-gold whipcrack of a voice who wants to put it to good use. Case came of age in Pacific Northwest (Seattle/Vancouver) punk scenes, and she carried its spiky but communitarian DIY attitude with her, even as she gradually transitioned into the countrified sounds on which she’d make her name. Her breakthrough LP Furnace Room Lullaby turns away from contemporary pop-country, but it’s not the refined country-folk of a Gillian Welch or an Alison Krauss either. Despite her lyrical chops, she’s more of an update on a Loretta Lynn or a Tanya Tucker, full of fierce underclass pride and melodrama.

Case was always well-reviewed, but you can detect notes of pessimism in the notices from American East Coast critics. I was stumped at the time by this polite but slightly chilly reception, but in retrospect, I understand it better. When I hear Orville Peck’s music, or Shakey Graves’, I think it’s mostly fine but also phony as hell, and in the late ‘90s and early ‘00s a lot of critics had their hackles up about anything you could call alt-country. Too many urban hipsters affecting a twang and singing about rural alienation, the contention went, and indeed the conversation around alt-country’s inauthenticity presaged a lot of today’s discourse about appropriation. (And a lot of alt-country turns out in retrospect to have indeed been corny as hell!)

But I think as we approach the 25 anniversary of Furnace Room Lullaby, it has become clear those reservations about her music were unfounded. Its fusion of classic honky tonk country with the ‘90s Canadian roots rock of bands like Blue Rodeo and the Sadies (the latter of whom frequently backed up Case during the period) has aged such that there are few visible seams between the traditional and the modern. Case and her collaborators deliver one of her strongest sets of songs—less overtly poetic than the imagistic fables of follow-ups Blacklisted and Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, but in some ways better for it. It’s still the best introduction to her catalogue and, depending on who you’re recommending it too, a fine introduction to country as a genre. Start with “Set Off Running,” and you never need to stop.

148/365

[junkfoodcinemas]

NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (2007) dir. Joel & Ethan Cohen

[j3nnix]

IT'S MAX'S BIRTHDAY YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!11!!1!!!!

[90s-2000s-barbie]

My Chemical Romance (2004)

[jul-27]

please let me fall in love with someone like this again;

[providence-park]

As I walked off my "Big" dinner, I realized I'd gone from pretending I didn't hate being in the country to pretending I didn't hate listening to Big's Willow talk. I may have been back in the city, but now I was really suffering.

SEX AND THE CITY

4x09 - SEX AND THE COUNTRY

[fanofspooky]

Scream Queen - Jamie Chung

[starrycassi]

Ambrosius's (indirect) champion.

Find part one here

"It's oficial. You've gone crazy"

Ambrosius, who feels thrilled with his idea, scoffs. In a quick move, he drags Ballister down to the bed, pulling him by the wrists, making the boy's head fall directly in his own chest. Had this been practice, he knows he probably would've gotten a punch to the ribs in retaliation. But they are in private, they are just teens, and Ballister allows his boyfriend to drag him down.

"Don't call me that, babe" Ambrosius whines, while Ballister tries to regain some of his dignity by lifting himself up with his arms to establish some sort of distance. "I'll cry"

"Ambrosius, this is not funny" finally managing to get on his hand and knees, Ballister stares down at his boyfriend, frowning. "This is incredibly concerning and serious"

Ambrosius pouts for a second, and giggles to himself after giving Ballister a quick kiss on the lips. He is scared, oh, so scared. He wants to cry and run and scream and punch and the best alternative he has right now is to be pretend to be charming with his boyfriend, but every good thing must come to an end, and he has to face reality.

They sit down, again, in the bed, face to face. Ambrosius's sudden burst of energy leaves as fast it came, leaving him with a dull sense of... confusion. Nothingness.

"You haven't heard my plan" he tries to grin at his boyfriend, hoping that his eyebags aren't nearly as big as he feels them be. "Come on. Let me tell you, and then you can say no"

They look at each other for some seconds, and Ballister gives in, the second Ambrosius brings out his best card on the whole deck: tears.

Crying on command is a pretty useful skill to have, Ambrosius's come to find out. He doesn't go all the way out with it, no this time, but he knows his eyes are watery and his nose is red. Ballister looks away, groaning.

"Fine!" He resigns, throwing his hands up to the heavens. "But if your plan is "something, something, we win" again, I'm out. I'm so out. You're going to have to ask Todd for help"

Ambrosius gasps, offended at the barbarity his boyfriend just said. How dares he? The old "fuck it, we ball" plan has never let them down, but this isn't the moment to bask in the glory of all of their past accomplishments.

"Okay, so..." he starts, taking in a big breath of air. This is going to be long, and troublesome. Sometimes he's sorry for Ballister, who has to learn all of this things as they go, unlike him, who's been memorizing the rules ever since he learned to read. "The duels, right. Not all noble families train their kids to be knigths. Not all knights are heirs, either. If you have an older sibling or just aren't the favor, then you're probably not a heir. Follow me?"

Ballister, who loves learning about new stuff, even if it's nobility rubbish, nods along, "Follow you"

"I am the sole heir of the family, so I have obligations. You already know this. One of those is to keep up alliances and all that stuff"

Nodding again, Ballister chuckles a bit. Of course he knows. He's been there to witness every single event that's happened ever since Ambrosius finally turned old enough to go to balls and shit as an actual member of the upper society, or whatever it is they call themselves.

"We have many allies made by old marriages, debts, whatever. If one of them asks something of me, then it usually really just falls on me to say no. Unless they put up conditions"

Ambrosius licks his lips, grabbing his boyfriend's hands and looking at him straight in the eyes. How wonderful they are, Ballister's eyes.

"Now is when it gets kinda hard, so bear with me. Mom's been saying no to everyone who wants to form an alliance by marriage. Don't make that face, Bal. It's not really a lovely affair as much as it is legal papers, for a lot of people. But if all of my allies get along and decide to put conditions on me, then we're obligated to answer"

"That's so, so bullshit"

"It really is. Specially because, since we have so many allies, they usually never get along for long enough to actually make and write a demand, but I guess I'm just that hot and everyone wants to bed me. Too bad I'm already in love with what my allies would probably qualify as a disgraceful street rat"

Ballister blushes, playfully shoving Ambrosius on the chest.

"They would get a heart attack, don't you think? If they knew about me and you"

"They would get a heart attack if they knew I'm gay. They would get a heart attack if they knew I'm a tube baby because my mom loathes my dad. They would get a heart attack if they knew I eat chocolate cake sometimes. Don't feel special" shrugging, Ambrosius continues, "So, they are threatening to call off a lot of agreements and stuff if I don't answer their demands, which, like, mature much? Not my fault all of their heirs look like horror creatures.

So, Mom, being Mom, decided to have me answer with a tournament, because apparently she believes I'm Hercules or something. I would traditionally have to fight with every single person who asked for my hand in a stupid sword duel and bla bla bla, but that would take forever, Bal. So, they came to an agreement. People fight each other, and whoever wins, figths with me"

"That sounds... extremely complicated" cringing a bit at the lengths people would go for a chance to figth with his boyfriend, Ballister grimaces. Bunch of weirdos.

"I'm not some easy harlot, Ballister. You offend me. Of course trying to marry me is complicated. But, wait, now's where it gets interesting"

"Now? Just now? This whole thing is nuts"

Ignoring him, Ambrosius takes two pillows and places one if front of the other. "There are people who can fight me and expect to win" he says, pointing to one of them. "And people who can't but want the marriage"

"So, a lot of families don't have knights. A lot of knigths aren't heirs. Even if a family has a heir that would marry me, they could just be a scholar or something. All knights are nobles..."

"Except me, clearly"

"Yeah, well. Most knigths are nobles, but a bunch of nobles aren't knigths. Like the Queen and such."

"And this is important because...?"

"Because families are going to choose champions, now. Wich means, they can just find a random good figther who's willing to commit to life to me and make them fight. Mom tried to make it so only noble heirs could enter, but they said no. You only have to represent a noble family, and there can only be one fighter per family. Wich means, you can simply sign up and beat everyone up!"

He throws his hands up in the air, a pinched smile on his face.

"You forget a very small but important detail, Amber" Ballister sighs, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands. "I'm neither noble nor a heir, and no family is going to choose me as a champion. You might actually need help from Todd on this one"

Ambrosius suddenly comes to a stop, blinking.

"I would sooner kill myself than marry Todd Disgusting Sureblade. Never. Nuh-uh. Not even if we were the last two men left in the planet. You know how some girls swear they can switch gays guys to the other team? I'm throughly convinced that Todd actually has the power to do so. Leave me alone with him in a room and I come out both a killer and ready to settle down with a woman. Hell, we'll have kids, even. Don't ever joke about that, Ballister. I'm going to have nightmares, tonight"

Cackling, Ballister pretends to apologize, while his boyfriend rambles about how horrifying it would be, to be around Todd every day of his life, and how death would be mercy if anyone ever was to ever be on that situation.

Ambrosius finally stops, clearing his throat to stop Ballister from dying of asphyxiation, "With that settled, I would like to point out that my family can't choose you because I have to represent the Goldenloins. Not because I don't want. But there's still someone, Bal. Someone who's childless, a noble, and probably would love to help us out in this"

Ambrosius's next words convince Ballister of the fact that, yes, Captain Gloria surely drank too much whiskey while she was pregnant, because there's something deeply wrong with this man's brain.

"We're going to ask formal help from the Queen. And we're going to do it right now"

He should've stayed at that orphanage. Things would've been easier.

˗ˋ ♡  ˊ˗

Ballister fixes his shirt, and then does so again. Next to him, Ambrosius is doing a pretty good job at pretending to be calm, but his lips are going to start bleeding in any second if he keeps munching on them like that, and his hands shake ever so slightly.

"If the speech doesn't work out" he whispers to Ballister, while they walk down the marble corridors of the palace, "then you put on your best puppy eyes. Pout and all. I'm bringing out the waterworks. Ugly crying, if needed. Gloreth, I'll fake-faint if it comes to that"

Ballister's pretty sure that the speech they wrote and tried to memorize on the two hours it took to get here (asking for permissions at the institute, getting into a carriage, arriving at the palace, getting the secretary to make them the next meeting using Ambrosius's status) isn't nearly good enough to convince the Queen to get involved in this mess, so he tries to remember the saddest moments in his life. There's a lot. He definitely feels ready to cry and beg.

They reach the Queen's office (because, apparently, queen's do have offices) and are welcomed by two palace guards that open up the wood doors for them to come in.

The place is wonderful. Not rich-people wonderful, it's soul-crushing, life-changing beautiful, instead. Everything is so white and golden and blue and shiny and ethereal.

In the middle of it, the Queen is seated, smiling softly at them. They both kneel down, knigth training and actual admiration manifesting in the gesture.

"Gentlemen" she greets, placing her joined hands on her desk, and they stand up straight, standing still, waiting for orders, her orders, always ready to obey to her, "you may sit down"

They do so.

Ballister's bones are trying to crawl out of his skin, and his whole face itches with nerves.

"Thank you, for receiving us in such short notice, Your Majesty" says Ambrosius, voice full with feeling. He's better at the whole "being social" thing.

"It is refreshing to see young faces on the palace grounds every once in a while" she responds, in that weird way formal people talk when they're trying to say something without saying it. "And I am honored to have two of my best cadets in here today. I have to ask, though, as to what situation do I owe the pleasure of such a distinguished visit? Specially a dual one"

"The honor is all ours" adds Ballister, who doesn't want to feel useless in the conversation, even if he feels incredibly out of place in the dances the nobility follows when they talk, when they breath, when they live.

"We come here with a plead," explains Ambrosius, and he suddenly looks older. Serious, worried, solemn. His voice is deep, calm, "One that would benefit both of us, and for which we require your help."

The Queen hums softly, slightly rising an eyebrow. "What sort of plea my I aid you both in?"

"I don't want to get married" blurts out Ambrosius, straight to the point. Ballister asked him, on the carriage, to be honest with this. He knows how... creative the Goldenloins can get when they want something, and he feels like the Queen deserves the truth. Even if it's a slightly dramatized version of it. Plus, being bold will surely add to the element of surprise.

"Excuse me?" The Queen looks clearly put off at the words, loosing her elegant demeanor for a second, "Come again?"

Seeing her eyebrows frown and her vocabulary change so abruptly, Ambrosius clears his throat, hiding a smile. Their plan seems to be going well.

"I don't want to get married" he repeats, enunciating every word, "And I'm being forced to engage in an obligated tournament for those purposes, Your Majesty"

He gives her a second to understand the words, to take the information in. In those seconds, Ambrosius remembers that one time he thought Ballister hated him, back when they were twelve, and tries to pour all the sadness he felt on his voice.

"Of course, I presume Your Majesty is aware of how vicious and outdated some traditions are" quickly, he glances down at Ballister, who's also putting on his best kicked lost helpless puppy performance, "but I am still subjected to them, as a heir."

The Queen is the Queen, but even her can't change the rules that noble families uphold each other to. That's not what they want, anyway. She nods, looking worried. Bingo.

"That's why I want to help him" cutting in, Ballister stammers a bit, like Ambrosius instructed him to; for extra empathy points, he said, "We've come up with a plan. It's not perfect, but..."

"... it's the best we can do" Ambrosius finishes, following his cue.

Now, they both stare at her, identical sad smiles plastered on their faces. If Ambrosius is as good with people as he claims to be, then they already have her heart in the bag. They just need to get her brain on it.

"And how can I help?" She asks, and both knigths know they've kit the jackpot in the instant her voice comes out. She sounds so much like a preocuppied mother. Ballister feels slightly guilty, slightly wishful. "How may I aid you both, on this quest?"

"We need someone to sign me in" Puppy eyes. Puppy eyes. Think sad thoughts. "No one else but you can do it, Your Majesty. I am a commoner, and the families despise me"

They're not even lying. Most nobles do despise Ballister. They're just... putting some heart onto the delivery of the news.

"He's my last resource" Ambrosius is about to cry. Teary eyes, red cheeks, trembling words. Such an actor. "My mommy can't do it because she's my own family, and I am so scared, Your Majesty. Marriage is the least of my concerns..."

He leans in to her, even if it's only the three of them in the room.

"Just... just, you know, thinking about what someone with control over me could ask for, gives me chills," and, to spice some politics in, he whispers to her, "there's so many things my mom would give over for me. Money, land, jews... Gloreth, even alliances, or debts. There's a lot of power tied into the family, and if I'm allowed to be honest, I fear for what would happen if all that rested in the hand of someone evil. Some villain. Some monster.

It's a well known secret that the Goldenloins could match the royal family in influence, in power. They're probably a bit over them, if one were to actually measure the impact they have on the people, on the kingdom. Ambrosius couldn't care less about this knowledge, but the Queen should be able to recognize a threat when it's in front of her.

She blinks once, twice. Ballister makes a show of giving Ambrosius a handkerchief for his tears, and he takes it with an apology for his horrible demeanor.

"I see why you've come to me," she finally speaks up, eyes fixed on them, "and I am glad that you did. This is an urgent matter. I am deeply troubled to see you in this state, Goldenloin"

Ambrosius mutters a quick thank you, still "too emotional" to talk.

"And I am glad to learn that the bond between my star knights is as strong as the walls that protect this kingdom. You both are what keep my people safe, after all"

Ballister's never been so proud to be compared to a wall as he is right now. It's wonderful.

"To show you my gratitude for your hard work, I will agree. Ballister, you can fight in representation of the noble house of Elpis, as my champion. Any armor or other supplies needed will be provided, too"

Thank Gloreth and every single saint ever for Ambrosius's manipulative ass. He's so in love with this dramatic wreck of a man. Thank Gloreth and every single saint ever for Queen Valentin's tendency to go against tradition. He's so grateful to have been born under her regency.

They both thank her, deeply, multiple times, bowing their heads. Ambrosius even sheds some more tears and wipes them off with urgency.

Then, the Queen stands up, and they follow suit, ready to leave with their victory. Before they can go, however, she shoots them a question, one that they didn't come prepared for

"You both are aware, I pressume, of how the nature of your... bond, could affect this tournament?"

Stop. Pause. What did she say? Whatdidshesay?

They look at each other, completely out of track. This time, she is the one with the upper hand. And they're so fucked. Seeing as how their silence continues, she speaks, again

"Your romance" she clarifies, and Ambrosius's choke on his own saliva isn't fake. Ballister goes so red his face burns, and, out of instinct, he hits his boyfriend on the back to try and stop his death. He hits a little too hard, but it works.

"Excuse us?" Screeches Ambrosius, high pitched, "Our what?"

"You must be confused" says Ballister at the same time, feeling like a very dumb caged animal. They didn't plan this. He's got no idea what to do next. "Ambrosius and I don't-"

"We would never-"

"We couldn't even be together! I'm just some commoner and he is..."

"Don't talk about yourself like that"

"Amber, this is not the moment to-"

"I won't let you be mean to yourself in front of the Queen"

The woman in front of them chuckles, amazed at their idiocy. They both blush even more, if that's possible. They suck at this whole "pretending to be single" thing.

"You're adorable" she coos, and Ambrosius is ready to change his name and move towns, "You remind me so much of Derek and me, back when we were young"

She brings up dead husband, as if this isn't weird enough already.

"Surely, you know that if people take notice of this, and Ballister does end up winning — like I have faith he will — they could argue that the tournament has been rigged by the Goldenloins"

They look at each other, bewildered. They never even considered that possibility. The Queen chuckles some more.

"I trust you would come up with a way to deal with that problem, Mister Goldenloin. Your mother's always had her way with schemes and theatrical dramas, and I am fairly sure that I just witnessed one of your plans in action, didn't I? Was any of what you said true, cadets?"

Of course. Of course. Of curse that, The Actual Queen, who's probably been working alongside Captain Gloria her whole life, would notice. Perhaps they didn't plan this as neatly as they could've. But they had less than a day to come up with the whole thing, so.

"I really, really don't wanna get married or have to obey to someone" argues Ambrosius, pouting. "Specially to some older weirdo"

"And I really, really don't want him to marry or have to obey to someone" agrees Ballister, apologetic. "Specially some older weirdo"

After considering them for some seconds, she nods again, agreeing to keep her word. Seeing no point on subtlety, they hug each other quickly, to celebrate.

"We're going to give back every penny you spend on Bal in this whole thing, swear to Gloreth" promises Ambrosius, one hand drapped along his boyfriend's back, "when he wins, I'm throwing a party, and you are so invited", quickly, he adds, "uh, Your Majesty, ma'am"

She lets them go after discussing some minor details, and they beam all the way out of the palace.

"I told you my plan would work" Ambrosius puffs out his chest like a proud peacock once they're on the carriage back to the institute, texting Gloreth knows who on his phone, "We're irresistible"

"She only agreed because you asked her. No one says no to a Goldenloin, Amber"

Ballister stretches, already tired. This whole thing has been draining. He's so ready to go back to the institute and join classes again. If this carriages hurries up, they might get there in time for sword training before lunch, his favorite part of the day.

"Talking 'bout Goldenloins..." trails off Ambrosius, playful smile painted on his lips, playing with the phone on his hands, "what you say we go talk to my mom now?"

"Absolutely no way-"

"Too bad" he interrupts him, placing his hand over Ballister's lips, "already told her we're on our way. She asked to chefs to prepare us something tasty"

Fuck this kid and his lack of self control.

[infantandinnocent]

[westrangecollectionkoalaposts]

Valkyries appreciation week: Day 7 - Free Day | @valkyrieappreciationweek

Slumber Party!

They purposely came in matching sleeping dresses, and yes, Nesta made them a cake and is showing them as they just arrived, and that weird thing in the background is House's pegasus form

[tha-wrecka-stow]

[scarletlotus182]

The thing about the belief in Gundam that the way to achieve true peace is through understanding is it's something that gets criticized by itself! Literally the main antagonist of Zeta is a man who uses his abilities to understand others to manipulate them into perpetuating acts of war and violence.

Newtype ideology dies out in late UC because of government erasure and nothing really coming out of it- but Unicorn's entire fucking thesis is that we should try anyways.

Turn A even goes as far as to show us that war and conflict are inevitable and ultimately only sets humanity back while the only way forward is to come together to try understand each other.

To point to real world history to show how "flawed" this belief is... idk man, but that past centuries have been anything but peaceful.

[junkfoodcinemas]

NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (2007) dir. Joel & Ethan Cohen

[vox-anglosphere]

Britain's leading classical architect invites you to hear him speak at the Rotherwick village hall in Hampshire on August 31st at 3:00pm

[90s-2000s-barbie]

The Country Bears (2002) 🐻

[hedgehog-moss]

[1] `there are often translations available in other languages long before English ones` This is really interesting! I'm familiar with translation in games, where english is often a very early target (a small game might get 0-5 translations, depending on amount of text) because the size of the market is larger.

[2] Do you happen to know why this is different for books? Is it faster to come to a deal about publication rights for some other languages to get started on the translation? Is translation to english harder (at least from French) than to say, Spanish?

The literary translation situation has long been very dismal in the English-speaking world! I don’t know a lot about video games, but are localisations provided by the company that makes the game? Because if that's the case it makes sense that games would get translated into English as a priority. For literary translations which are imported rather than exported, other countries have to decide to translate a foreign author and anglo countries (US, UK and Canada at least) are not very interested in foreign literature. There's something known as the "3% rule" in translation—i.e. about 3% of all published books in the US in any given year are translations. Some recent sources say this figure is outdated and it’s now something like 5% (... god) but note that it encompasses all translations, and most of it is technical translation (instruction manuals, etc). The percentage of novels in translation published in the UK is 5-6% from what I’ve read and it’s lower in the US. In France it's 33%, and that’s not unusually high compared to other European countries.

I don't think it's only because of the global influence of English* and the higher proportion of English speakers in other countries than [insert language] speakers in the US, or poor language education in schools etc, because just consider how many people in the US speak Spanish—I just looked it up and native Spanish speakers in the US represent nearly 2/3rds of the population of France, and yet in 2014 (most recent solid stat I could find) the US published only 67 books translated from Spanish. France with a much smaller % of native Spanish speakers (and literary market) published ~370 translations from Spanish that same year. All languages combined, the total number of new translations published in France in 2014 was 11,859; in Spain it was 19,865; the same year the US published 618 new translations. France translated more books from German alone (754) than the US did from all languages combined, and German is only our 3rd most translated language (and a distant third at that!). The number of new translations I found in the US in 2018 was 632 so the 3% figure is probably still accurate enough.

* When I say it’s not just about the global influence of English—obviously that plays a huge role but I mean there’s also a factor of cultural isolationism at play. If you take English out of the equation there’s still a lot more cultural exchange (in terms of literature) between other countries. Take Olga Tokarczuk’s Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead; it was published in 2009, and (to give a few examples) translated in Swedish 1 year later, in Russian & German 2 years later, in French, Danish & Italian 3 years later, in English 10 years later—only after she won the Nobel. I’m reminded of the former secretary for the Nobel Prize who said Americans “don't really participate in the big dialogue of literature” because they don’t translate enough. I think it's a similar phenomenon as the one described in the "How US culture ate the world" article; the US is more interested in exporting its culture than in importing cultural products from the rest of the world. And sure, anglo culture is spread over most continents so there’s still a diversity of voices that write in English (from India, South Africa, etc etc) but that creates pressure for authors to adopt English as their literary language. The dearth of English translation doesn’t just mean that monolingual anglophones are cut off from a lot of great literature, but also that authors who write in minority languages are cut off from the global visibility an English translation could give them, as it could serve as a bridge to be translated in a lot more languages, and as a way to become eligible for major literary prizes including the Nobel.

Considering that women are less translated than men and represent a minority (about 1/3) of that already abysmally low 3% figure, I find the recent successes of English translations of women writers encouraging—Olga Tokarczuk, Banana Yoshimoto, Han Kang, Valeria Luiselli, Samanta Schweblin, Sayaka Murata, Leila Slimani, of course Elena Ferrante... Hopefully this is a trend that continues & increases! I remember this New Yorker article from years ago, “Do You Have to Win the Nobel Prize to Be Translated?”, in which a US small press owner said “there’s just no demand in this country” (for translated works); but the article acknowledged that it’s also a chicken-and-egg problem. Traditional publishers who have the budget to market them properly don’t release many translations as (among other things) they think US readers are reluctant to read translated foreign literature, and the indie presses who release the lion’s share of translated works (I read it was about 80%) don’t have the budget to promote them so people don’t buy them so the assumption that readers aren’t interested lives on. So maybe social media can slowly change the situation by showing that anglo readers are interested in translated books if they just get to find out about them...