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Vie du père

Alain Farah

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

Alain Farah

‘Two times is a repetition. Three times is a tradition, or a curse.’ Translated from the French by Lazer Lederhendler.

The Naming of Moths

Tracy Fells

‘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.

A Scale Model of Gull Point

Kate Folk

Trapped in a revolving restaurant during an American revolution, Shel VanRybroek turns to tin-foil sculpture.

The Battlefield

Dominique Fortier

‘For years, you have been passing through my life; like a comet, disappearing as quickly as you come.’ Translated by Rhonda Mullins.

Le Champ de Bataille

Dominique Fortier

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?

Cloud Seeding

Krista Foss

‘It’s not a fairy tale or a mystery. It’s a transaction.’

Boathouse

Jon Fosse

‘It was this summer that the restlessness came over me.’ Translated from the Norwegian by May-Brit Akerholt.

You Okay for Time?

Kaori Fujino

‘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.

Revolutions

Jen George

‘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.’

Day 4

Rachel B. Glaser

‘She sat sweating on the curb as her mother’s narrow face hovered over the parking lot like a hologram.’

Strange Heart Beating

Eli Goldstone

‘Grief is the aggressive displacement of the self from a known universe to another.’

Last Days on Corfu

Amelia Gray

A novel about the life of celebrated dancer Isadora Duncan. ‘You can feel her in every room. The chandeliers shiver.’

Yport

Lauren Groff

‘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.’