I met Jay two summers after Katrina, two years after my parents separated, two years after I came out. It was June in Mississippi: the palms sagged from the heat by mid-morning, their brown fronds shaking in the weak sea breeze. If you stood on the shore, you could see the barrier islands through th…
Our favourites from 2016
Why We’re Post-Fact
Peter Pomerantsev on the move to post-truth politics.
Violence in Blue
Statistician Patrick Ball on the unprecedented number of police homicides in the United States.
The Raingod’s Green, Dark as Passion
Kevin Barry remembers writing in Cork.
An Island Presence
‘I can almost believe in the permanence of these warm days, this unchanging child whose hand fits mine. But I can feel the cold and the darkness coming.’
‘Michelle had learned a valuable lesson: Do not leave the house unless you look ready to meet Matt Dillon.’ From the novel Black Wave.