Jeroen Brouwers wins ECI Literature Award 2015

13 November 2015

The ECI Literature Award 2015 has been awarded to Jeroen Brouwers for The Wood. With this award the jury honours the ‘command of the language’ on display in Brouwers’ stylistic tour de force about a young teacher’s struggle to escape a brutal boarding school regime. Weissbooks will publish a German translation (by Christiane Kuby) of the novel in the autumn of 2016.

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German literature festivals visit the Netherlands & Flanders

Preparations Frankfurt 2016

4 November 2015

Eleven managing directors and program coordinators of German literature festivals will visit Amsterdam, Rotterdam, The Hague and Antwerp from 9-14 November 2015. The ‘Ehrengast’-program of Flanders & the Netherlands at the Frankfurter Buchmesse 2016 will be accompanied by an extensive programme of readings and appearances, beginning March 2016 during LitCologne festival in Cologne.

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10 Books from Holland, Autumn 2015
Frankfurt 2016
Quality Non-Fiction from Holland
Children's Books - Spring 2015


Jeroen Brouwers

The Wood

(Atlas Contact, 2014)

Jeroen Brouwers explores one of the darkest chapters in our recent history: the sexual…

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Jan Brokken

Die Vergeltung

(Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 2015)

The Reprisal is an unforgettable examina­tion in microcosm of the Second World War and…

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Edward van de Vendel

Then Came Sam

(Querido Kinderboeken, 2011)

‘Seeing him was always a surprise, because he was so beautiful and white, and a little…

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Rumble on the Nile

Jamal Mahjoub

10 August 2015

The first house we lived in after moving to Khartoum had an air of danger to it. There was something there that never felt right. A small rock garden by the entrance held over a dozen types of cactus. Some had big flat leaves, others furry yellow spines that stuck to your fingers and were impossible to remove. We were warned not to play there for fear of scorpions. It could have been a scorpion that killed the duck we kept in the back garden. We liked to think it was a snake after having discovered a sloughed off skin, dessicated and translucent, sitting on top of some dusty packing cases in the disused garage. Our cat staggered in one morning foaming at the mouth with rabies. There were dark corners in that house and it was overshadowed by the ghost of the previous occupant, a man who had managed to electrocute himself by carrying a standing lamp out onto the damp lawn one evening to read by.

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