LETRAS

Emma Woodhouse no es la típica heroína de Jane Austen: no es dependiente, no tiene un status y una economía precarios, y no necesita, para asegurar su futuro, cazar marido. Al contrario, es una joven «inteligente, bella y rica», que no aspira al matrimonio y que rige como por derecho natural los destinos de la pequeña comunidad de Highbury. Emma (1816) es una fulgurante comedia de equívocos, llena de ocultaciones, intrigas y errores que muchas veces ins*piran vergüenza ajena, pero en la que el sentido del ridículo sirve como vehículo para el acierto, la franqueza y la sensatez. Esta traducción de Sergio Pitol se acompaña con las célebres ilustraciones de Hugh Thomson para la edición de 1896.

Emma Woodhouse, la hija de un rico terrateniente, se muda al pequeño pueblo de Hartfield. Aburrida de su plácida vida junto a su padre, se dedicará en cuerpo y alma a su pasatiempo favorito: hacer de casamentera entre sus conocidos y jugar con sus vidas a su antojo. Sólo George Knightley será capaz de enfrentarse a Emma y criticar duramente su comportamiento, lo que provocará una deliciosa pugna entre ambos.

What do a barracks for British troops in the Falklands War, a floating jail off the Bronx, and temporary housing for VW factory workers in Germany have in common? The Balder Scapa: a single barge that served all three roles. Though the name would eventually change to Finnboda 12. And then to Safe Esperia. And later on, to the Bibby Resolution. And after that . . . in short, a vessel with so many names, and so many fates, that to keep it in our sights—as the protagonist of this fascinating economic parable—Ian Kumekawa has no choice but to call it, simply, the Vessel. Despite its sturdy steel structure, weighing 9,500 deadweight tons, the Vessel is a figure as elusive and abstract as the offshore market it comes to embody: a world of island tax havens, exploited labor forces, free banking zones, Thatcherism, Reaganomics, and mass incarceration, where even the prisoners are held offshore. Fitted with modular shipping containers, themselves the product of standardized global trade, the ship could become whatever the market demanded. Whether caught in an international dispute involving Hong Kong, Nigeria, Indonesia, and the Virgin Islands—to be settled in an English court of law—or flying yet another foreign “flag of convenience” to mask its ownership—the barge is ever a container for forces much larger than even its hulking self. Empty Vessel is a jaw-dropping microhistory that speaks volumes about the global economy as a whole. In following the Vessel—and its Sister Vessel, built alongside it in Stockholm—from one thankless task to the next, Kumekawa connects the dots of a neoliberal world order in the making, where regulation is for suckers and “Made in USA” feels almost quaint.