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En Route to The Promised Land

Ken Light

Ken Light revisits the photos he took of immigrants crossing the border between Mexico and the US in the 1980s.

The Panther

Sergio Pitol

‘Haste did not grip the animal. He paced before me languidly, tracing small circles; then, in a single pounce he reached the fireplace.’

In Conversation

Mathias Enard & Ian Maleney

‘I think the moral issue is being more or less truthful to what you believe in, that’s the important thing, whoever the character may be.’ Mathias Enard and Ian Maleney in Conversation

Sobre Cardi B

Rita Indiana

‘Es un himno crudo y catchy escrito por una mujer que ha confesado que escribe sobre lo que le gusta y que lo que le gusta es “fighting bitches”.’

On Cardi B

Rita Indiana

‘A crude, catchy hymn written by a woman who’s confessed to writing about what she likes, and that what she likes is “fighting bitches”.’

A New Front Line

Lindsey Hilsum

Lindsey Hilsum shows how investigative reporting has become just as dangerous as frontline correspondence. ‘Investigative reporters are in more peril than ever and the front line has come to Europe.’

Mr Wu

Pallavi Aiyar

‘A middle-aged woman in teddy bear-spangled pajamas came hurtling down on a flatbed tricycle.’ Pallavi Aiyar returns to her old Beijing hutong.

The Editor’s Chair: On Daša Drndić

Katharina Bielenberg

‘Language is always logic, no matter which language it is.’

Fyodor Denisovich Konstantinov

Lev Ozerov

‘A piece of boxwood, gripped in a vise, / waits on the workbench for his knife.’ Poetry by Lev Ozerov, translated from the Russian by Boris Dralyuk, and introduced by Robert Chandler.

Introduction

Sigrid Rausing

Editor Sigrid Rausing introduces Granta 145: Ghosts.

In Freud’s Shadow

André Aciman

‘We all have ways of placing markers on our lives.’

A Room of One’s Own

Amos Oz & Shira Hadad

Amos Oz in conversation with Shira Hadad, translated from the Hebrew by Sondra Silverston.

Greedy Sleep

Bernard Cooper

‘I knew I had a problem when I woke up in a Motel 6 in Fresno.’

Speer

Sheila Heti

‘Every night for three weeks, I sat with Hitler after dinner.’