Explore Fiction
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Stalin, Lenin, Robespierre
Brandon Taylor
‘He tried to think about what sort of person he wanted to be in this world and how he might bring that about.’
Fiction by Brandon Taylor.
The Attaché’s Wife
Karan Mahajan
“I’m from here. I grew up here. In fact, that’s why the government invited me back for this work.”
Short fiction by Karan Mahajan.
Isabel
Lillian Fishman
‘Diana saw that Lucy’s appeal was in the nostalgia of her looks: Hers was a teen beauty, at home nowhere more than in a miniskirt.’
Fiction by Lillian Fishman.
The Full Package
Zoe Dubno
‘I wasn’t against fashion; I wasn’t one of those people who need to make it into a whole statement about their intellect.’
Fiction by Zoe Dubno.
Ricks & Hern
Nico Walker
‘Naturally, no partnership is perfect. Certain pieces will be at odds – you’ll have that.’
Fiction by Nico Walker.
And That’s How I Became a Woman
Vigdis Hjorth
‘Finn Lykke opened the door wearing jeans and a freshly-ironed, white shirt, he had made an effort.’
Fiction by Vigdis Hjorth, translated by Charlotte Barslund.
And Of The Son
Rachel Connolly
‘There’s something in her face. Adoration? I mean, she’s drunk. But she clearly has a thing for me.’
Fiction by Rachel Connolly.
Gettysburg
Jessi Jezewska Stevens
‘One did not have high hopes for Gettysburg. Nor for Pennsylvania in general. Having grown up in Indiana, Diana felt she’d earned her condescension.’
Fiction by Jessi Jezewska Stevens.
Cult
Marcus Ong Kah Ho
‘The parties always had a good mix of men and women, although more often than not there were more good-looking women than men.’
Fiction by Marcus Ong Kah Ho.
Solo Poly
Sophie Frances Kemp
‘When you are a female this is what happens: if you are not selected to be a mate by age twenty-seven, you are asked to get on the bus.’
Fiction by Sophie Frances Kemp.
The Legion
Shaun Wilson
‘A should probably write that it hit uz like a smack in the guts, or the red mist cem down or sumet like that, but in all honesty, a can just remember feelen upset.’
New fiction by Shaun Wilson.
Not a River
Selva Almada
‘He takes the knife, cuts the barb from the body, sends it back to the depths of the river.’
An extract from Not a River by Selva Almada, translated by Annie McDermott.
