On Wednesday 14 May I attended the European Literature Night 2014 at the British Library. I had just finished reading an English translation of Back to Back, a novel by German author Julia Franck, when I read that she would be speaking at this event and decided to go along with my friend Ellie. We weren't too sure how the event would turn out but as we are both very interested in languages, literature and translation, we couldn't fail to find the evening fascinating.

Journalist Rosie Goldsmith did an excellent job of introducing and interviewing the six authors, who came from a variety of countries around Europe. They all write in their native tongues but have enjoyed success with English translations of their works too. Each author was asked about their writing and their backgrounds, as well as the inspiration for their novels, and then read a passage from one of the English translations of their work. Hearing about the author's life and then listening to the extract was a great way to really understand what the author had written and why.

I was struck most by the honesty and openness of the authors. There was a strong trend of both dysfunctional families and autobiography throughout the evening, which meant that the authors were baring their souls to us and revealing some of the toughest moments in their lives. Julia Franck's novel Back to Back, for example, dealt with life in East Germany, where she herself was born, and some of the characters were based on her own family members. It was amazing to hear her describe her mother's efforts to move them out of the East, and life in a refugee camp once they made it to the West. She talked about her Jewish grandmother's communist ideals and her view that German communism had developed fairly uniquely after the horrors of fascism and that she always had the feeling that something about this communist idealism was not quite right. Belgian author Dimitri Verhulst, in his book The Misfortunates, had written about his experience growing up with his father and three uncles, all of whom were alcoholics, following his parents' separation. He was eventually moved into foster care. To see a man sit on a stage and tell hundreds of strangers about his turbulent childhood was a truly humbling experience. In a similar way, Danish author Jonas T Bengtsson was quite open to describing his life-long feeling that he didn't quite fit in (without ever really knowing why) when talking about his novel A Fairy Tale.

The main draw of the event for me was to see Julia Franck, as she was the only author speaking of whom I had previously heard. However, the evening turned out to be far more intellectually stimulating than I could have hoped. I was exposed to new authors, new works and also new languages, of which I had not had much (if any) experience in the past, concentrating as I do on the German language. The Foyles stall in the foyer afterwards allowed me to buy a couple of the books, which have been added to my long list of books to read! I have always loved reading and for a while now have wanted to become a literary translator (I currently translate marketing and other non-literary texts from German into English) and I am preparing to study an MA in Literary Translation at UEA from September. The evening spent at the British Library absolutely spurred on my enthusiasm to enter the world of literary translation and I am very much looking forward to reading my new purchases and attending many more events like the European Literature Night in the future.

Das Doppelte Lottchen, in English Lottie and Lisa, is the original story by Erich Kästner on which the well-known film The Parent Trap is based. I read this book after seeing a production of Emil and the Detectives at the National Theatre over Christmas and deciding to seek out more of Erich Kästner's fantastic literature. Even though I loved the book Emil and the Detectives as a child, I was very pleasantly surprised by just how much I enjoyed Das Doppelte Lottchen. Whilst obviously a children's book, the story was so comfortably written that I couldn't put it down. In fact, as I was reading it in the original German, it was a great feeling to whiz through the book desperate to continue with the story. Kästner's writing is incredibly witty and the portrayal of the two girls, who look so alike and yet are so different in their tastes and habits and personalities, is exceptional. I really felt that I got to know Lotte and Luise and was desperately hoping that they would be reunited with each other and their parents. Of course, there were a couple of points which made the idea of twins swapping unnoticed just a bit questionable, not least because one had grown up in Munich and one in Vienna – I'm not sure they would have been able to disguise their accents! But this point aside, the story itself is a heart-warming tale of the strength and determination of children and the way in which actually, sometimes, they do know better than their parents. I had no idea until recently that Erich Kästner had written this book and that's where The Parent Trap came from, and that made me realise how important it is to read and be aware of literature from around the world, both as children and as adults. Emil and the Detectives ended up on my shelf because my mum had had it when she was a child, but I am not sure I know anyone else who has read it other than my sister, and my friends in Germany. However, I firmly believe that this story and all of Erich Kästner's books should be more readily available and more widely promoted in England. It is essential that we embrace these fantastic contributions from other cultures and that we all work together to ensure that children all over the world can read stories such as this beautiful account of two sisters who just want to be together and reunite their parents so they can be a family once more.

Daniela Krien's novel Someday We'll Tell Each Other Everything deals with a young teenager's struggle to come to terms with the collapse of the GRD, her feelings for her boyfriend Johannes, and her love for neighbouring farmer Henner. Maria has only known life in the GDR – life which is portrayed as being tough, full of hard manual labour and disadvantaged compared to that of the West. Her parents are divorced and her father has moved to the Soviet Union, and her mother has never really been happy away from her home town. Maria moves out to live with her boyfriend, but we witness her struggle to fit in with his family too as the men laugh at her for being too weak to work on the farm and the women despair at her inability to cook properly. We discover as the story progresses that Maria has also refused to take the state initiation ceremony, meaning that she does not in fact seem to fit in comfortably with any part of her world at all.

In the beginning, Maria believes she loves her boyfriend Johannes. He is not cut out for life on the farm either, and is desperate to get out of the village once the wall comes down. By that time, however, Maria has got to know Henner, the alcoholic farmer who lives nearby and is somewhat of a recluse. Despite the age gap of over 20 years, after they meet in the field one day and Henner brushes his hand over her breasts and between her legs, they realise there is a chemistry between them that scares and intrigues them both. It is not long before they end up having sex and this leads to an affair. At first Maria is torn up with guilt but at some point she settles into a sort of routine where she sees Henner a couple of times a week after school. In the meantime, since the fall of the wall and the influx of western products into the East, Johannes has become obsessed with photography and no longer notices her except through his lens, so he is incapable of noticing any changes in her behaviour or appearance.

The most remarkable thing about the love shared by Henner and Maria is that they are both able to be themselves when they are alone together. It is obvious that they love each other for who they are. Henner has had his share of misery in life and his somewhat brutish behaviour and dependence on alcohol is not popular in the town. Maria finds herself cooking and cleaning for and generally looking after Henner, whilst experiencing a sexual awakening unlike that which she has ever known before. Ironically, the deeper she falls in love with Henner and the more she grows up, the more Maria is accepted and appreciated by Johannes' family. Inside, however, she is determined to leave the farm and move in with Henner, regardless of the reaction of those around them.

In a state where secrecy and lies, denouncement and death, hiding and betrayal were rife, Maria becomes accustomed to not telling the truth and to hiding her affair. Her thoughts about truth and secrecy are very thought provoking:

"The fear of being discovered has given way to a realisation that the truth doesn't always come to light. It makes me wonder what else goes on in secret that I'll never find out about."

It is clear that there is a lot going on in the world behind closed doors that maybe people never find out. Maria resolves to reveal the truth, however, but Henner dies abruptly before she gets the chance. He had been unsure about them bringing the affair to light as he didn't want Maria to be shunned in society too, and the implication (whilst never revealed) is that he killed himself to set her free. I do not believe she ever was free, however – her love for Henner was so strong that she would never have truly got over him. Following Henner's death, Maria followed Johannes to Leipzig where he was to study photography. She already knew that she did not love him, yet with no school leaving certificate and few other prospects, she remained tied to a man whom she did not love and who only had eyes for his camera. Maybe the truth would not have come to light, at least not immediately, and maybe Maria had indeed been spared the humiliation of giving herself up to an older man and renouncing those who had given her a home and a new life. However, I believe Maria would never have truly been happy with Johannes, having experienced true love with Henner, and the wall coming down would not really set her free, only push her into a new trap, from which there may well never be an escape.

Last night I went on a spontaneous trip to the cinema with some friends from work. We decided to see The Book Thief, a film based on the book by Markus Zusak, which I was very pleased about as I am very interested in World War II and the Holocaust. Somehow I had managed to miss out on reading the book, so I went into the film having seen the trailer but otherwise knowing nothing of the story. I wasn't sure beforehand if it was a good idea to watch the film first, as I do love discovering a book with a blank canvas in my own imagination, but part of me was quite excited about the prospect of allowing the film to be my first impression. Too often I watch films of books I love and am thoroughly disappointed (Harry Potter and My Sister's Keeper to name a couple) and the idea of not being constantly on the lookout for extra additions or cut scenes was rather appealing.

The film got off to a very positive start with a large amount of German being spoken (always a winner for me!) although I was a little perplexed as to why the narrator, Death himself, was the only character with a British accent in the film. As a whole, I was overwhelmingly impressed by the German accents of all the actors. I have seen several films either with no effort at all put in to matching the accents to the location or where, bizarrely, some of the actors put on an accent and others don't. So that was an immediate bonus for me. The number of German words casually thrown about throughout the film added to the feeling of having been transported to Germany. The overall performance of the actors was absolutely fantastic. Geoffrey Rush was (unsurprisingly) staggeringly good and the kids, and indeed all the actors, gave faultless performances. I was absolutely transported to Nazi Germany, and there was no weak link anywhere to let the side down.

The plot kept me gripped from start to finish. One thing I found very interesting was the way in which the film was centred around Liesel's goodness, contrasting the humanity of many of the characters with the brutality of the SS Officers and other Party members. It was quite refreshing to witness scenes of humanity rather than watching another film depicting only scenes of SS cruelty towards Jews and other victims. That's not to say that there were no harrowing scenes - the burning of the books was disturbing to say the least, as all the Germans crowded around the fire cheering at anti-Jewish and anti-communist statements, and sang the national anthem in unison whilst saluting Hitler. However, this scene was also poignant as we witnessed Liesel's inner struggle between joining in with those around her and realising that these people around her were celebrating the hatred and persecution of her own mother, who had been a communist and who we know did not survive the regime. Sophie Nélisse's acting is so superb that the viewer feels each one of her emotions. I watched Liesel begin to understand the real purpose of the Nazis, as she and her best friend Rudy (another excellent performance by Nico Liersch) lost their excitement at being in the Hitler Youth and gradually became more disillusioned, finally screaming 'I hate Hitler' together as they contemplated how many people they have lost from their lives and considered the prospect of being separated once Rudy started his elite training.

It was touching to watch Liesel's love of books grow, and seeing her go to every length to get hold of new books. I have to say I was a bit confused as to why she couldn't read in the beginning, but maybe I need to read the book to get more background on that. My only other 'problem' was in one of the final scenes, when the street was bombed and all the families were pulled out of the rubble - the houses were completely destroyed and yet Liesel's parents did not seem to have any external injuries - all the bodies were intact and peaceful in death. This of course helped reduce the trauma of seeing so many beloved characters die, but was perhaps just a little unrealistic. However, if that's my biggest complaint, that's not bad going at all.

Overall, The Book Thief is a heart-warming story of love, friendship, strength and togetherness. The bonds formed between Liesel and her new parents, Liesel and Max, and Liesel and Rudy, are full of love. The viewer really gets to know the characters and absolutely feels for Liesel when she loses yet more members of her small family. It is good to see a war story with an ultimately positive theme - despite the death and sadness, of which naturally there is plenty, it is wonderful to see love and friendship overpower Nazism and admiration of the Führer. I cannot recommend the film enough, and I have already got my hands on a copy of the book. I cannot wait to read it.

I started reading Never Let Me Go after a friend gave me her old copy which she'd finished reading. The pages were falling out and at one point I had to run to Oxfam to find a new copy after discovering pages 73-77 were missing, but eventually I made it to the end all in one piece. Having heard how sad this book is, I was expecting to fall apart and was quite surprised when I reached the end without having shed a single tear. I put this down to the very matter-of-fact, stilted tone that brought both admiration and irritation as the most heart-rending, inhumane concepts were delivered as easily as the latest information about the weather. The terrifying description of a world in which clones are created solely to save the human race from diseases and allow them a life span of over 100 years made me fear the possibilities of science and the future of the human race. However, the way in which the story was delivered did stop me from getting quite so engrossed in the sadness of the story and that, I believe, is what stopped me from crying my eyes out. The word 'completing' was used to describe a donor's death, which while distressing, did serve to keep the reality of the situation at arm's length. Ishiguro did an excellent job of conveying the confusion of the children and mirroring the gradual way in which they found out their actual role on the earth; this was impressive in terms of writing, but more than a little frustrating in places!

Having survived the book, I then decided to give the film a go. This started off well, despite the slightly amusing 80s and 90s fashion and hair styles (those were some impressive fringes!) and I think the script was brilliantly written. It wasn't long before I started feeling the first signs of depression at the story. But I thought I'd be ok - I just moved slightly closer to my boyfriend and carried on watching. Seeing the action on the screen was too much for me, though. Watching doctors pulling organs out of these young people and abandoning the dead without a second glance, treating them like absolute robots, was heartbreaking. They didn't believe these people were human, yet they were willing to take their vital organs for their own benefit with no hint of a conscience. The head-in-the-sand attitude of the people was disturbing to say the least, and a cruel reminder of what we as a race are capable of. All doubt that the donors had a soul was erased (as if it needed to be) as we saw Tommy break down once he realised there was no escape from his cruel fate and the sight of him screaming, and holding Kathy for absolute dear life, was the end of me. I sobbed and sobbed into poor Matt's shoulder, not stopping for a good ten minutes after the film had actually finished. I enjoyed the book, and I thought the writing was superb. But somehow seeing the action in front of me was what it took to finally break me. Is this an insult to Ishiguro's writing? On the contrary. The medium of writing is very different to that of the screen, and indeed I thought it paid tribute to quality of the writing, that the way in which the non-clone humans in the story had their emotions towards the clones dulled, was almost experienced by the reader too. Of course, their fate was tragic indeed, but without seeing the truth in front of me I was able to protect myself from the horror of the story.

The human race is phenomenally intelligent, capable, and loving. But this work of art served as a true warning to humanity, that we cannot ignore the suffering of others at any cost. As we already have live donors and the power to clone animals, I can only hope that this shocking story acts as a deterrent rather than an inspiration to go the last step and turn a blind eye to the fate of some for the benefit of others.

After I finished reading The English German Girl by Jake Wallis Simons I felt that I had to write about it instantly. I am no stranger to novels based on the Holocaust and the Second World War, but this was the first book I have read by this author, and I have to admit I was somewhat taken by surprise by this intense and gripping story.

I was drawn to the book whilst browsing through Foyles with my boyfriend Matt one afternoon in London. We promised ourselves we wouldn't buy anything, but I think we came out with at least five or six paperbacks between us. This title stood out to me immediately. As an English girl harbouring an absolute love of Germany, its language and culture, the words The English German Girl really spoke to me. I didn't get round to reading it straight away, choosing first to tackle Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose which, whilst an excellent read, took a lot longer than I anticipated to get my head around! I finally took Jake Wallis Simons' book with me on the train to Norwich and, faced with nearly four hours of travelling, settled down with my new book.

I soon realised this was not the same as the war-themed books I had read in the past. Set in Berlin, the author had really worked to keep present the 'German-ness' of the story by using plenty of German words throughout, rather than anglicising everything. As a reader, I was transported to Berlin between the wars, accompanying the protagonist Rosa to school, helping her learn to ride a bicycle and finally travelling next to her on the train from Berlin to England, leaving behind the security of her family and heading for the safety of London. A heartrending account of Rosa's struggle to learn English and settle into this new country, whilst trying desperately to find a way to bring her Jewish family to London and share her freedom, the book gripped me from start to finish. The author made the interesting decision to focus solely on Rosa, so that once it became clear that Rosa's father, mother, brother and sister would not get out of Berlin before war was declared and the German borders were slammed shut, we were left sharing in Rosa's agony not knowing what had happened to them all. I spent a lot of time waiting (or rather, hoping) for at least one of them to turn up on her doorstep as part of a miraculous tale of survival, but I had to wait until very near the end to be sure of their sad fate.

Although there is almost no let up to the heartache in this novel, the astounding attention to detail serves as a constant reminder that this was how it was, and that when reading a novel based on the Holocaust you shouldn't, no, can't expect to breathe a sigh of relief. The length of the acknowledgements and bibliography prove just how much effort was put in by the author to make this work true to life (and in fact several characters were not entirely fictional). He himself explains: "To avoid historical travesty I wanted to make it as accurate and realistic as possible; at the same time, I did not want to stand accused – as Peter Hall so memorably put it – of 'bumming a ride on the Holocaust'." I would say that he has certainly achieved his goal. This is not a story which uses the tragic events of the war to make a nice story, but rather is a gripping account of the pain and suffering experienced by so many. The ending, whilst bringing some sort of healing for Rosa, proves that a shattered world remains so, and that emotional scars never really fade. Life goes on, and so does grief. Coping mechanisms may be found, but the legacy of the war will outlive us all.

Next time I'm in Foyles, I will head straight to the shelf to look for another book by Jake Wallis Simons.

At the end of September last year I dived into the world of commuting and suffered the tube journey across London from Waterloo to King's Cross. All around me people were engrossed in various early morning rituals; reading the Metro, listening to music and, of course, playing Candy Crush. I myself didn't do any of these things for once, and instead I decided simply to observe those around me and prepare mentally for the day ahead.

Arriving at the British Library, I wasn't sure where to go at first but I soon bumped into an old acquaintance from Royal Holloway and we found our way to the Conference Centre. Being relatively new to the industry, I was a bit shy but soon had my name badge round my neck and, armed with a cup of tea, began the task of 'networking'. This can be rather an off-putting word until you remember that everyone in the room is there for that purpose and that really you are all just helping each other out. No need to be nervous, if you have a business card you're good to go.

The first session was full of facts and figures. An overview of the past year in literary translation, there were numbers flying all over the place and I can't say I understood what they all meant. But I couldn't help but be caught up in the excitement of it all. Despite all the governmental cuts the world of translation is holding its own thanks to grants, perseverance and hard work, and the books will keep coming. This was excellent news; all I had to do now was find out how to get involved myself.

A series of lectures and seminars interspersed with more cups of tea and business-card-swapping were enough to make me believe it was possible. Authors, publishers, translators who had all started out as wide-eyed young graduates and had made it exactly where they wanted to be all talked about their experiences, giving tips and hints about how best to sell ourselves to publishing companies, how to keep up to date with the industry and what events and summer schools are open to young hopefuls like us. In short, the day made a dream seem more like a graspable reality.

Although the question and answer sessions were incredibly interesting, the final session was the real inspiration. Helen Chadwick, a singer who has already produced several albums, gave a wonderful talk punctuated with her music, the lyrics of which had been taken from interviews she had conducted with war correspondents, journalists and refugees around the world. Along with three other singers, she gave a very moving performance whilst talking about her interview experiences and the translated poems which she uses for other songs. Some of her songs contained lyrics in both English and the interviewee's original language, which showed how beautiful translation is. And the fact that she was so grateful to us, the translators, for enabling her to use material which she would not otherwise have understood, showed what an important job translation is. I think that's what it comes down to; the desire to make words accessible to anyone and everyone. If I read a book in German that makes my heart beat faster while I turn each page as quickly as possible to find out what happens next, I want to be able to share that feeling and those words with those around me. And after I've gained a bit more experience, increased my confidence and hopefully visited a few more events as inspiring as this one, sharing the words of others is what I intend to do.