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Terminology

Callie Gardner

‘In Iris, they speak a language with a hundred pronouns.’

Two Poems

Miriam Bird Greenberg

‘Why wasn’t I better made / to refute assimilation’s maze’

Ali Fitzgerald | Notes on Craft

Ali Fitzgerald

Notes on crafting a graphic memoir from Ali Fitzgerald.

The Unspoken

David Hayden

Horror from David Hayden. ‘A shuddering, wordless voice rose in the distance, and another, and another; a chorus, a lament, which ended in a low grunt. There was a coda of sobbing. There was silence.’

I’m Black So You Don’t Have to Be

Colin Grant

'Can the black author really write out of her or his colour? In writing about black characters can they ever escape race?' Colin Grant looks at the evolution of racial politics.

Nine Pints

Rose George

‘My blood is on its way to becoming something that even when given for free can be brokered and sold like ingots or wheat.’

Candidate

Jessie Greengrass

‘All through winter and another summer we wait, but time passes more quickly now that we have a purpose. I feel it flowing.’

Sharing the same bed, dreaming different dreams

Ma Jian

Ma Jian shows the excess and corruption of the Chinese Communist party in this excerpt from his new novel, China Dream, translated from the Chinese by Flora Drew.

I’ll Go On

Hwang Jungeun

‘Swish-swish, swish-swish. The sound fills the large space around them, and Nana finds this deeply satisfying.’

After Half-Time

Shamik Ghosh

Subha Prasad Sanyal’s translation of ‘After Half-Time’ by Shamik Ghosh is the winner of Harvill Secker’s Young Translators’ Prize 2018.

The Seafood Buffet

Pirjo Hassinen

‘Things that felt like cold stones began to be piled around her ankles. Lemon halves.’

Now, Now, Louison

Jean Frémon

Jean Frémon on the artist Louise Bourgeois and her fascination with spiders. Translated from the French by Cole Swensen.

Abscessed Tooth

Debra Gwartney

‘Silence allows me to pretend that this happened to someone else a long time ago, and not to me.’

Occupation

Julián Fuks

‘They tell me you write about exile, about lives adrift, about trees whose roots are buried thousands of kilometres away, he said in his harsh accent, his hoarseness aggravated by the static on the telephone line.’