‘Damn, brother. You saw what they did to my face? / Poked out my eyes. Knocked teeth out of place’.
Boy, yaar, they sure called me some good names of late:
e.g. opportunist (dangerous). E.g. full-of-hate,
self-aggrandizing, Satan, self-loathing and shrill,
the type it would clean up the planet to kill.
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‘Then the wolves began to howl. After that, it was winter.’
A story by Angela Carter from Granta 3: The End of the English Novel.
‘If our fear was a landscape, it would be a prairie, a great plain.’
An essay by Cal Flyn from Granta 153: Second Nature.
‘It had not been dead for long. In fact, she had not checked that it was dead at all.’
A story set in rural Wales, by Elizabeth O’Connor.
‘All of it is wolf country; nowhere is a wolf to be seen’
An essay by Adam Nicolson from Granta 128: American Wild.
‘he is Bête du Gévaudan / killer-wolf and loup-garou’
Two poems by Pascale Petit.
‘It’s often said that writers should never explain their work, but perhaps we could agree that these are exceptional circumstances.’
‘Let me tell you, boyo, bach: I love this place, where green hills shelter me from fear.’
‘You open a book by a writer you’ve never heard of and a new voice leaps off the page and makes you listen.’
‘I'm not quite the same person as the ‘me’ about whom the book is written.’
