‘Our nation is a spell of nerves and gas. We say yes to monsters, to elegies etched in our palms.’ Translated by Daniel Canty.
‘For years, you have been passing through my life; like a comet, disappearing as quickly as you come.’ Translated by Rhonda Mullins.
‘Circuses have the capacity to transform those rejected by society – the acrobats, rope-walkers, puppeteers and expelled demons – into wonders and celebrities.’
‘He was at home in the water, and it was from here that he would find ways to live, reasons to live.’
Life of the Father
‘Two times is a repetition. Three times is a tradition, or a curse.’ Translated from the French by Lazer Lederhendler.
‘I can’t go back there. I know what they think. I know what they see.’ A new play by Falen Johnson.
Song for Goliath
‘I see them as a needlepoint sampler, / flowing script that reads: everyone suffers.’
‘Language is a risk that a nation takes. If a language survives, its people do too.’ Translated from the French by David Homel.
Le Champ de Bataille
J’ai un très grand chagrin d’amour. Et toi, qui aimes-tu? Les garçons ou les filles? Ou seulement les livres et les échecs?
Plus tard, ils me diront comme tu étais un grand homme. Un savant. Un érudit de la chasse.
Vie du père
L’homme dont les paroles ont inauguré cette histoire va donc voir ou plutôt revoir, alors qu’il se déplace dans un temps parallèle, les meilleures scènes de sa vie.
Nassau homme recouvert d’une couverture de laine assis au sol sous une série de clous...
The File: Lost Then Found
‘Even for those of us who feel we have integrated our history, there can be fragments, like shrapnel, that push to the surface without warning.’
‘It was this summer that the restlessness came over me.’ Translated from the Norwegian by May-Brit Akerholt.
Language In Exile
One summer’s day, for the first time, Mitzi broached the past. Past in the present, so present, with everything it had deposited in this room that suddenly seemed so vast. Everything that the grim tide deposits on the shores of a life.
The Survivals of Lafcadio Hearn
‘Did Hearn feel comfortable in Japan because being a foreigner overshadowed his physical difference?’
Out of the Cell
‘I was inside a silence that was not an absence of noise so much as the living presence of everything I habitually walked – or sleep-walked – past.’
Water, Water, Everywhere
Darrell Hartman on water: from diving to climate change, hurricanes Irma and Harvey to the advent of ‘Blue Mind’.
‘The cortex shrinks where the cells used to be. The spaces in between expand. Islands in the sea of the mind. An archipelago of the former self.’ Sinéad Gleeson on Alzheimer's disease.
‘When you die you revive in the world of the last book you were reading before your demise.’
A Mingling | State of Mind
‘My empathy may become a vehicle of insight for me and therefore help me to help you or it may debilitate me altogether, make me so sad I am no good to you whatsoever.’
The Recall of Herman Harcourt
‘I had the queer feeling of looking into a mirror of the projected future, of perhaps seeing how easily his fall could be a rehearsal for my own.’
Monster | State of Mind
‘Today’s a day for you to feel blocked and impeded; a coward in work and love; resenting duty; suspecting pleasure.’
‘This is where my imagination had gone: frittered away on longing and regret, just like everybody else.’
‘My eyes were way too large. They appeared, if this is possible, independently scandalized.’
The Perfect Choice
‘There are those who have an inborn gift for not being deceived in life.’ Translated from the Italian by Gini Alhadeff.
You Okay for Time?
‘She wants to talk, she wants to unburden herself, but there’s nothing left so all she can do is cry.’ Translated by Ginny Tapley Takemori.
The Naming of Moths
‘Sophia no longer worries about how life smells, if she breathes in too deeply all she tastes is ash.’ The 2017 Commonwealth Short Story Prize winner from Canada and Europe.
‘Underneath the leaves that stack my upper lip / the reindeer do not share their love.’ Translated from the Korean by Jake Levine.
On Jesus’ Son
‘Jesus’ Son is a song, a glorious clear hymn, full of the notes of bad decisions, of rotten fucking luck, of causing real and lasting damage to yourself and to the people around you.’
‘All colours are hurt spectacles, I think, and say aloud without intention.’ The 2017 Commonwealth Short Story Prize winner for Asia.