I was recently at a party and found myself talking to a linguist and he told me that we had been pronouncing komik’c-ed incorrectly but that it meant pretty much what my mother claimed it meant.
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I was recently at a party and found myself talking to a linguist and he told me that we had been pronouncing komik’c-ed incorrectly but that it meant pretty much what my mother claimed it meant.
Sign in to Granta.com.
‘I alone know a running stream
that is recovery partly and dim sweat
of a day-fever’
A poem by Rowan Evans.
‘Humour is a thread we hang onto. It punctures through the fog of guilt.’
Momtaza Mehri in conversation with Warsan Shire.
‘Something shifted in me that night. A small voice in my head said, maybe you can make a way for yourself as a poet here, too.’
Mary Jean Chan in conversation with Andrew McMillan.
‘There was to be an exhibition. There were lots of pictures like his, apparently – of waiters, pastry cooks, valets, bellboys.’
An essay by Jason Allen-Paisant from Granta 159: What Do You See?
‘I have started to see that nothing is itself’
A poem by Jason Allen-Paisant from Granta 154: I’ve Been Away for a While.
Joy Williams is the author of eleven books, including the novel State of Grace, a finalist for the 1974 National Book Award for Fiction, The Quick and the Dead, shortlisted for the 2001 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, and the book of essays, Ill Nature: Rants and Reflections on Humanity and Other Animals, a finalist for the 2001 National Book Critics Circle Award for Criticism.
More about the author →‘She remembered being happy off and on that day, and then looking at things and finding it all unkind.’
‘We went directly out of the theatre and into the streets, my mother weeping on the little usher's arm.’
‘She was Some Pig. Her eggs easily incorporated the human genetic code. All her piglets were star patents.’
‘As regards to life it is much the best to think that the experiences we have are necessary for us.’
‘Those men and women don’t want rubber. They are after something more ethereal but fearsome: the conversion of souls.’
Fiction by Carlos Fonseca, translated by Megan McDowell.
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