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Donut County

Kate Lister Campbell

‘The fertility process is more like gambling than investment.’

Two women meet in an IVF clinic in this short story by Kate Lister Campbell.

Prologue

Eugene Lim

‘What was she ushering in and what was a grand program for which she was simply helpless agent?’

An excerpt from Search History by Eugene Lim.

Naomi

Sarah Hall

‘When I was eight, my mother died and Naomi arrived.’

An excerpt from Burntcoat by Sarah Hall.

A Page Pounded Clean

Kathryn Scanlan

‘There was no shriek, no gore, but the tail – it looked electrically charged.’

A story by Kathryn Scanlan.

A Stiff Flame from the Neck

Kathryn Scanlan

‘I gripped her and struck the wheel on her neck, but I couldn’t get it to spark.’

A story by Kathryn Scanlan.

Jean Betrays Memory

David Hayden

‘Beauty was a state of being blamed’

New fiction by David Hayden.

Oldladyvoice

Elisa Victoria

‘I hope I never have to miss a playdate for catechism.’

An excerpt from Oldladyvoice, translated from the Spanish by Charlotte Whittle.

Larger than an Orange

Lucy Burns

An excerpt from Larger than an Orange, a book by Lucy Burns about abortion.

Just the Plague

Ludmila Ulitskaya

‘It seems to be more than he can cope with.’

An excerpt from Ulitskaya’s newly translated novel Just the Plague.

An Adult Taste

Kang Young-sook

‘The blood that flowed down the drain was a deep dark red, but it appeared clean, even refreshing.’

A new story by Kang Young-sook, translated from the Korean by Janet Hong.

Me, Rory and Aurora

Jonas Eika

A new story by Danish writer Jonas Eika, from the collection After the Sun. Translated by Sherilyn Nicolette Hellberg.

In the Aftermath

Eva Freeman

‘Green would work but blue, cobalt blue to be precise, would be better.’

Fiction set in Flatbush by Eva Freeman.

Variations

Tao Lin

‘But in variation #5 they spent ten hours together.’

An extract from Tao Lin’s novel Leave Society.

A Place I’d Go To

Kathryn Scanlan

‘They were very old and had to be carried down the hall to the examination room and lifted onto and off the scale like sacks of tender, bruisable fruit.’

A story by Kathryn Scanlan.