‘Let me tell you, boyo, bach: I love this place, where green hills shelter me from fear.’
Let me tell you, boyo, bach: I love this place,
where green hills shelter me from fear,
jet fighters dance like dragonflies
mating over unsteady, unafraid lambs,
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Alison Smith on the week she spent with Ursula K. Le Guin.
This surreal tale from Haruki Murakami circles a Charlie Parker album that never existed. Translated from the Japanese by Philip Gabriel.
A monastic community persists after a ‘great chaos and collapse’ in this story by the 2018 Nobel Prize for Literature laureate, Olga Tokarczuk. Translated from the Polish by Jennifer Croft
Two poems from Rebecca Tamás’ collection WITCH.
Summer Brennan on high heels, foot-binding, and our ongoing performances of gender.
‘It’s often said that writers should never explain their work, but perhaps we could agree that these are exceptional circumstances.’
‘Damn, brother. You saw what they did to my face? / Poked out my eyes. Knocked teeth out of place’.
‘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.’
‘I just never thought I’d see the day when Amtrak would start poisoning people.’
