The Soyo Workshop is a pottery studio outside of Seoul that takes its name from the words for wedging clay and firing clay in a kiln. Yeon Somin has set her second novel, The Healing Season of Pottery, in the Soyo Workshop and the quaint neighborhood where it’s situated. Similar in structure and tone to Welcome to the Hyunam-dong Bookshop and other comfort novels, the familiar coffee and cats are placed with a pottery studio that is new and different.

How the Plong (often commonly referred to as Pwo) Karen community in Hpa-an, the state capital of Karen State in southeastern Myanmar, live their lives in line with the conscious pursuit of a moral existence is the focus of Justine Chambers’s new book Pursuing Morality: Buddhism and everyday Ethics in Southeastern Myanmar. Focusing on how Plong Karen choose the most ethical and moral way to live, the book highlights the importance of Thout kyar, “a promise to maintain a particular ethic that people describe as fundamental to living in harmony with each other”, to many Plong Karen.

Back in the day, everyone went to China, some already famous—Charlie Chaplin, Marlene Dietrich, Eugene O’Neill, Langston Hughes, Mary Pickford—and some who later would be famous, such as Wallis Spencer, the woman who, a marriage or two later as Wallis Simpson, caused the King of England to abdicate. Her time in Shanghai was the subject of later scurrilous (and it would appear, entirely fabricated) rumors about pornographic photographs, bordellos and something called the “Shanghai grip” (best left to the imagination).

Translators have made books from around the world available through the centuries to those unable to read the language in which a work first appears. Translation allows us to gain insights and grapple with the arguments of authors from around the globe. A world without translation would be, for most readers in the Anglosphere, a world without such works as Sun Tzu’s classic Art of War or Mao Zedong’s modern On Protracted War. While Asian literature is relatively well represented in English translation, from Murasaki Shikibu’s ancient Tale of Genji to Murakami Haruki’s latest novel, The City and Its Uncertain Walls, translations of their non-fiction equivalents are comparatively rare.

In her latest collection of short stories set in contemporary China, award-winning writer Yao Emei reveals that, as goes the song, “it’s hard to be a woman”, but not just sometimes: all the time. Alternately macabre, heart-rending and shocking, the four tales comprehensively skewer the aspirational notion of the happy family. No matter how hard Yao’s female characters work to get married, have children and put the rice on the table, they are continually thwarted by their menfolk generating crises which their long-suffering wives, mothers and daughters must clean up.

Eating out alone in Korea is not the done thing: minimum orders are often for three or four, and restaurants have an intensely communal atmosphere. Some coffee shops and restaurants have installed giant plush Moomins, Pengsoos and other characters so that solo drinkers won’t feel so alone (this may have inspired the cover of Table For One, which shows an anthropomorphic Zebra diner).

A severely injured nineteen-year-old soldier caught at the frontlines of the Syrian Civil War tries to piece together his life as he waits for aid that may never arrive. As he inches toward death, he recalls the minor and major events of his life and his country that led him so close to death. Told in vignettes that jump across time and place, Samar Yazbek’s newest novel Where The Wind Calls Home is a heart-wrenching story that questions the value of life in a combat zone with equal parts compassion and anger to craft a brilliant war novel. Translated from Arabic by Leri Price, Yazbek’s story introduces English readers to a moment in Syrian history that is equally haunting and beautiful.