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After the War, Before the War

David Peace

‘At last, at last. His first steps, on Chinese soil.’

Agamemnon’s Truth

Javier Cercas

‘My name is Javier Cercas, just like you.’

Agnes of Iowa

Lorrie Moore

‘Through college she had been a feminist – more or less. She shaved her legs, but just not often enough, she liked to say.’

Alice fell

Emma Tennant

‘Agony belonged to night and would take advantage of the union, increase the whirligig of pain.’

All Fours

Miranda July

‘We decided then to tell each other exactly how a typical fuck played out in our marriages. We couldn’t believe we’d never done this before.’

Fiction by Miranda July.

All Silky and Wonderful

Ben Pester

A trip on a commuter train takes a surreal turn in new fiction by Ben Pester.

All That Follows

Jim Crace

‘Leonard Lessing does not dream of Maxie Lemon, Maxim Lermontov, the hostage­-taker.’

All the Caged Things

Chinelo Okparanta

‘All that thought of home gave the girl a sickly feeling, the longing of something so out of reach, something she wasn’t even sure she could any longer truly remember.’

All We Shall Know

Donal Ryan

‘Thoughts sharpen themselves on the flints of one another and pierce me like a knife in my middle, sunk deep and twisted around.’

Allegro Pastell

Leif Randt

‘It was fantastic to own a phone, it was fantastic to have people you loved in your life.’

Fiction by Leif Randt, translated by Ruth Martin.

Alpes Maritimes

William Boyd

‘From the small terrace at Cherry's villa there is a perfect view of Villefranche and its bay, edged by the bright beads of the harbour lights and headlamps of cars on the coast road.’

Alphonse

Marie-Hélène Lafon

‘He was long and white; his hands especially were long and white, and he sewed; he looked after the linen; he worked as a woman would; he lived in the house; he didn’t speak, he was rarely spoken to.’

Translated from the French by Stephanie Smee.

Always the Same Snow and Always the Same Uncle

Herta Müller

‘Who knows: what I write I must eat, what I don’t write – eats me.’

Amalur

Liadan Ní Chuinn

‘So maybe I knew for a while that I loved my boyfriend’s family and not him.’

Fiction by Liadan Ní Chuinn.