There were five of them remaining and it was all in the balance. But one was only three years old; just a kid. Eli didn’t think he really counted. I mean when did an entity, a human being—
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There were five of them remaining and it was all in the balance. But one was only three years old; just a kid. Eli didn’t think he really counted. I mean when did an entity, a human being—
Sign in to Granta.com.
‘We meet at various points in the great swathes of the past that neither of us were alive to witness.’
Allen Bratton on a daytrip to a castle with his older boyfriend.
‘Listening to three white poets, whom I suspect are academics, talk about the state of poetry.’
Oluwaseun Olayiwola eavesdrops on an older generation.
‘I’d been dubious about his company at first.’
Sarah Moss on watching Shakespeare with her twelve-year-old son.
‘She didn’t trust us because, to her, tenants were like children.’
Kate Zambreno on negotiating with her older landlady.
‘A moment now swallowed in embarrassment, I asked a question only a young person might ask an older one.’
Lynne Tillman on trying to understand what makes a generation.
Nicola Barker is the author of twelve novels – including Wide Open, Darkmans, The Yips and In the Approaches – and two short story collections. She has been twice longlisted and once shortlisted for the Booker Prize, and was named one of Granta’s Best of Young British Novelists in 2003. Her novel H(A)PPY won the 2017 Goldsmiths Prize. Her most recent novel is titled I Am Sovereign.
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‘Insofar as value for money is relevant to art, that audience – an attentive audience, a great audience – were determined to get it.’
Fiction by Nicola Barker.
‘Yes. Oh yes. That is who we once were. The Young must never, ever allow themselves to ignore what has brought them here.’
‘I’ve always thought of myself as someone who writes outside of the dominant culture; an outsider looking in.’
‘One did not have high hopes for Gettysburg. Nor for Pennsylvania in general. Having grown up in Indiana, Diana felt she’d earned her condescension.’
Fiction by Jessi Jezewska Stevens.
‘Incredibly, where her neck had once been, she could now see right through to the faded paisley paper on the opposite wall.’
Fiction from Phil Crockett Thomas.
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