“Threehearts and Me” by Clelia Farris, translated from the Italian by Rachel Cordasco (Bourbon Penn, November 1)

“Trees at Night” by Ramiro Sanchiz, translated from the Spanish by Sue Burke (Clarkesworld, November 1)

Ice by Jacek Dukaj, translated from the Polish by Ursula Phillips (Head of Zeus, November 6)

A Trans-Siberian odyssey through political, criminal, scientific, philosophical and amorous intrigues, and into an endless winter to confront something utterly alien.

The Week of Colors by Elena Garro, translated from Spanish by Megan McDowell (Two Lines Press, November 11)

A woman flits between two realities centuries apart, as scenes from the violent conquest of Mexico bleed their way into her comfortable contemporary life. Two little girls visit the home of a sorcerer who tortures women named after the days of the week. Girls become dogs, a laborer hides human bones in bricks he’ll use to build a new development, and an old woman appears at an acquaintance’s door one night with a knife and a bone-chilling confession.

Not Yet Gods by Djuna, translated from the Korean by Jihyun Park and Gord Sellar (Kaya Press, November 11)

In the aftermath of a nuclear explosion set off in North Korea, an ordinary South Korean high school classroom becomes ground zero for the discovery of a radical new source of energy: children capable of conducting and amplifying the telepathic and telekinetic powers of those around them. Told as a series of interlinked stories, Djuna’s fractally unfolding thought experiments interrogate the nature of power, disability and illusion in the potential end of history.

The Calf by Leif Høghaug, translated from the Norwegian by David M. Smith (Deep Vellum, November 11)

Part Appalachian gothic, part science fiction, part Norwegian western, The Calf is a darkly comic backwoods phantasmagoria that bends genres until they break in a feat of linguistic experimentation.

On the Calculation of Volume (Book III) by Solvej Balle, translated from the Danish by Sophia Hersi Smith and Jennifer Russell (New Directions, November 18)

In the marvelous third installment of Balle’s “astonishing” (The Washington Post) septology, Tara’s November 18th transforms when she discovers that she is no longer alone in her endless autumnal day. For she has met someone who remembers, and who knows as well as she does that “it is autumn, but that we’re not heading into winter. That spring and summer will not follow. That the reds and yellows of the trees are here to stay.” Where Book I and II focused on a single woman’s involuntary journey away from her life and her loved ones and into the chasm of time, Book III brings us back into the realm of companionship, with all its thrills, odd quirks, and a sense of mutual bewilderment at having to relearn how to exist alongside others in a shared reality. And then of course, what of Tara’s husband Thomas, still sitting alone day after day, entirely unawares, in their house in Clarion-sous-Bois, waiting for his wife to return?