Translated from the French by John Sturrock
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‘Nine beers, two Tuborgs, four Guinnesses.’
Translated from the French by John Sturrock
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‘The anglophone world, we have to infer, has run out of words for its own feelings.’
Daisy Hildyard on the wisdom of scarecrows.
‘What is the read receipt for?’
Lillian Fishman on texting, power and the ethics of leaving a friend on read.
‘Like pretty much everyone who uses the internet, I have seen many terrible things that I did not search for and that I cannot unsee.’
Rosanna McLaughlin on what the internet thinks she wants.
‘I have a pathological addiction to the internet, which I indulge with the excuse of making art. It rarely translates to anything good and mostly leaves me overstimulated and afraid.’
Paul Dalla Rosa on excess and the internet.
‘rumors of bees on speedwell, / no oxidative stress just / effortless pollination’
Two poems by Sylvia Legris.
Georges Perec was born in Paris in 1936 and died in the same city four days before his forty-sixth birthday in 1982. His parents were Jews who had migrated to France from Poland; both died during the Second World War – his father as a soldier during the German invasion of France, his mother in Auschwitz-Birkenau. His works include Les Choses, which was awarded the Prix Renaudot in 1965, and W ou le souvenir d'enfance.
More about the author →John Sturrock is a writer, critic and translator. He is Consulting Editor at the London Review of Books. His translations include Stendhal’s The Charterhouse of Parma, Notre-Dame de Paris by Victor Hugo and Marcel Proust’s Days of Reading.
More about the translator →Entries from Georges Perec’s I Remember, translated from the French by Philip Terry and David Bellos.
‘What does that mean, vegan cheese? asks a lady who’d had no query about amuse-bouche.’
An extract from The Alternatives by Caoilinn Hughes.
‘it’s wrong / to let delicacies, even when suspect, go untried’
A poem by Natalie Shapero.
‘The recipe is a text that can produce spattering because it was spattering before it was language.’
Rebecca May Johnson on recipes, repetition and intimacy.
‘Life is not worth living / without salami.’
A poem by Sandra Cisneros.
‘It was an old woman’s racism that inspired the first line of ‘Blood Money’.’
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