By the time Diego moved in, I was forty and Diego fifty, our marginal existences long established. We ranted about the torture regime he once fled. We danced tangos.
The stories in Colum McCann's collection each have thirteen sections that build slowly, surely toward denouement. By the end, a shift in perspective has taken place.
Why are there more versions of 'Anna Karenina' (1878) in 2016? According to some translators "the best" will never be available and so translation must continue.
