Of Bankers and Soldiers
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Ode to Cristina Morales
Cristina Morales
‘She who says knockout, who says tap-out, speaks the words of glory.’
Fiction by Cristina Morales, translated by Kevin Gerry Dunn.
Ladies! Be Your Own Grave
Emily Skillings
‘the slightly annoying and toxic / first green of spring’
A poem by Emily Skillings.
In Conversation
Patrik Svensson & Rebecca Tamás
‘I want to pull the emergency brake’
The authors discuss anger, attention and noticing the nonhuman.
The Coming Bad Days
Sarah Bernstein
‘I began to appreciate being amongst things that were mine only. I cleaned with a puritanical zeal.’
An excerpt from Sarah Bernstein’s debut novel, The Coming Bad Days.
On ‘Colville’
Natalie Diaz
The author of Postcolonial Love Poem on ‘Colville’, the photoessay by Fergus Thomas.
Uwaa: the sound of the feeling that cannot be spoken
Polly Barton
An excerpt from Fifty Sounds, a memoir by Polly Barton, translator of Aoko Matsuda and Kikuko Tsumura.
A Perfect Cemetery
Federico Falco
An excerpt from Federico Falco’s story collection A Perfect Cemetery.
Genealogy
Kayo Chingonyi
A new poem by Kayo Chingonyi from the forthcoming collection A Blood Condition.
Mould
Alice Ash
‘There was fur on the window frame, and we drew into it with our fingernails: dark, mushroomy bursts.’
A new essay by Alice Ash.
Crystals
Kate Lebo
‘Sam had a urate crystal in his toe, built by genes and rich eating.’
Kate Lebo on Xylitol.
The Mob and the Crowd
Noémi Lefebvre
‘The purveyors of legitimate violence are what matter above all’.
An excerpt from the novel Poetics of Work.
Three poems
Verity Spott
‘I’m better now, & time spreads away / across the flood.’
Three new poems from Verity Spott.
House of Flies
Claudia Durastanti
‘The disappointment only spread later, like an odorless gas seeping through the pipes, and the only complaints heard were from old people wandering around anxiously in the fog.’
Translated from the Italian by Elizabeth Harris.
In Conversation
Katherine Angel & Sam Byers
‘I was experiencing a sort of muteness and inhibition, a need to burrow away and think, quietly, alone.’
Katherine Angel, author of Tomorrow Sex Will Be Good Again speaks to Sam Byers, author of Come Join Our Disease.
Lice
A. K. Blakemore
‘I often had head lice as a child. Outbreaks circulated around my primary school on a seasonal basis.’
A new essay from the author of The Manningtree Witches.
Clara’s Parrot
Hebe Uhart
‘He laughs with a human laugh, a sinister and forceful cackle.’
Newly translated work from the Argentine writer Hebe Uhart.
Two Poems
Khairani Barokka
‘a powerful blast ignited in their latest attempt to grow lives in the dirt of your online receipt, human blood carries all kinds of filigreed debris’
In Conversation
Jeremy Atherton Lin & Kevin Brazil
‘My larger concern is that as we sequester online, our lack of imagination threatens to foreclose our respect for other people’s realities.’
Selected
Sam Byers
‘Across the country, at any given moment lives are unravelling in rooms of crushing uniformity.’
Undreamed Shores
Frances Larson
‘Miss C (who is fairly young and pretty) can’t go off by herself with a solitary man, however respectable, to live on the Siberian tundra.’
from Affiliation
Mira Mattar
‘on our knees in bathrooms internationally / dependent on a disguise of sovereignty’
An Ounce of Gold and Máxima Acuña Atalaya
Joseph Zárate
‘To end up with an ounce of gold – enough to make a wedding ring – you need to extract fifty tonnes of earth, or the contents of forty removal lorries.’
On Vulnerability
Katherine Angel
‘Is anyone an authority on themselves, whether on their sexuality or anything else?’
An excerpt from Tomorrow Sex Will Be Good Again.
Two Poems
Wendy Xu
‘Somewhere in America a white boss / in a dandelion dress-shirt is raising / his voice again’
Fat Bodies
Forsyth Harmon
‘Justine was at my lab table, pulling at the ends of her black bob, shoving her hair into her mouth.’
An excerpt from Justine, out with Tin House Books.
In Conversation
Madeleine Watts & Lucie Elven
‘The moments of relief in this awful year that will stick with me are roaming around at strange hours, walking in the middle of the road.’
Introduction
Sigrid Rausing
‘Perhaps in isolation a new form of communication is emerging, expressing what readers and writers have always told one another, via books and letters and on the literary stage: I hear you. You are not alone.’
