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.
Life of the Father
‘Two times is a repetition. Three times is a tradition, or a curse.’ Translated from the French by Lazer Lederhendler.
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.
When We Fight, We Have Our Children With Us
‘We are all politically involved whether we like it or not, and children are already on the frontlines.’
Vinyl Road Trip
After an unexpected email, David Flusfeder heads to Detroit to discover his father’s history and the world of vinyl manufacturing.
A Scale Model of Gull Point
Trapped in a revolving restaurant during an American revolution, Shel VanRybroek turns to tin-foil sculpture.
Plus tard, ils me diront comme tu étais un grand homme. Un savant. Un érudit de la chasse.
‘Language is a risk that a nation takes. If a language survives, its people do too.’ Translated from the French by David Homel.
‘It was my child’s outlook to think most things were right. And yet if life’s eternal drama is of events seeking a more perfect state, their life and mine was not that.’
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?
‘For years, you have been passing through my life; like a comet, disappearing as quickly as you come.’ Translated by Rhonda Mullins.
‘It was this summer that the restlessness came over me.’ Translated from the Norwegian by May-Brit Akerholt.
The Survivals of Lafcadio Hearn
‘Did Hearn feel comfortable in Japan because being a foreigner overshadowed his physical difference?’
Song for Goliath
‘I see them as a needlepoint sampler, / flowing script that reads: everyone suffers.’
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.
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.
‘Small praise was like a drug for party members, though we used real drugs too, hard ones, drugs that imbued one with the facility for ruthless violence and multiple orgasms.’
Sarah Gerard | Five Things Right Now
Sarah Gerard on Leonora Carrington, shoegaze music and gaslighting.
On the Road
‘But I still get homesick, that vast and deep pit in the stomach, every time I go away.’
‘She sat sweating on the curb as her mother’s narrow face hovered over the parking lot like a hologram.’
‘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.
Eli Goldstone | Five Things Right Now
‘The closest I come to meditating is sitting in front of a tumble dryer with a dead magazine.’
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.’
Strange Heart Beating
‘Grief is the aggressive displacement of the self from a known universe to another.’
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.’
Last Days on Corfu
A novel about the life of celebrated dancer Isadora Duncan. ‘You can feel her in every room. The chandeliers shiver.’
Spiders from Jerusalem
‘When the Holy Family was fleeing from Jerusalem, spiders wove such a thick web around the road that the swords of Herod’s soldiers couldn’t pierce it.’
Eliza Griswold | Is Travel Writing Dead?
‘Even in its subtler forms, the act of looking is an act of self-regard.’
‘She pokes her head through the skylights and sees the tide far out, the exposed seabed sinister as the surface of the moon. Tiny people pick their way across.’
Well Done, No. 3777!
‘I grew up in the semi-tropical south, dotted by wet paddy fields, but I always wanted to go to the north.’
Leaving Gotham City
‘I can’t remember the last time we said I love you before hanging up the phone. I can’t even remember the last time we said goodbye.’
‘Circuses have the capacity to transform those rejected by society – the acrobats, rope-walkers, puppeteers and expelled demons – into wonders and celebrities.’