Raymond Depardon, the son of a peasant, has become one of France’s most distinguished photojournalists.
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‘On days when the light is beautiful, when the sun is red above the Saône, I find myself regretting not having come more often when my parents were working the farm.’
Raymond Depardon, the son of a peasant, has become one of France’s most distinguished photojournalists.
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‘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.
Raymond Depardon, the son of a peasant, has become one of France’s most distinguished photojournalists. He is a Magnum photographer and documentary film-maker. He began using a camera when he was ten. His photographs from that time, which record a rural life that has now vanished, are now the most important to him. His photographic record of the farm near Villefranche where he was born in 1942, Le Ferme du Garet, was published in 1995 (Editions Carré).
More about the author →‘Having told his story, the thief had said goodbye to Agnès, regretfully, she thought’.
'Bára went to the church on the advice of her friend Ivana. She had been suffering from occasional bouts of depression', Ivan Klíma in 'Don't Forsake Me' in Granta 59: France: The Outsider.
‘It was the first teasing days of spring, the scent in the air a cross between death and cum.’
Fiction by Stacy Skolnik.
‘rumors of bees on speedwell, / no oxidative stress just / effortless pollination’
Two poems by Sylvia Legris.
‘You are what you do, and you are what you write, to some extent, I believe that at least.’
Lauren Oyler on personality, intention and the collapse between private and authorial selves.
‘After dinner and schoolwork and dog-walking and the rest, even if I’d put the light out and laid myself down for definite rest, little ideas and scraps and nonsenses would tickle in and start to shake me. They would make the nights too bright to resist.’
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