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Acid Permanent
Suzie Bovenzi
‘I miss his body, the blank shine of it. I miss the clean blue bib.’
A story by Suzie Bovenzi.
Podcast | Ayanna Lloyd Banwo
Ayanna Lloyd Banwo
‘Places don’t always remember what they are.’
Ayanna Lloyd Banwo talks about her novel When We Were Birds.
The Gospel According to the New World
Maryse Condé
‘Our Father had perhaps two sons and sent her the younger one.’
An excerpt from The Gospel According to the New World, by Maryse Condé, translated from the French by Richard Philcox.
Husband Number Five
Emily Adrian
‘I’ve been cruel to my mother all my life. Relentlessly hitting on her new boyfriend was barely remarkable.’
Fiction by Emily Adrian.
Loopholes
Tice Cin
‘If you’re raised without these codes, if you’re not from ends, you won’t find the routes and you won’t find us.’
Tice Cin on class, housing estates and hood surrealism.
Oxblood
Tom Benn
‘Some nights he hurt her which made her glad; she never let him know because the pain was brief and rare and felt like penance.’
An extract from Oxblood by Tom Benn.
For the Love of Losing
Marina Benjamin
‘Winning, it turns out, was the cracking whip that meant gamblers had to stay where they were until they lost their money all over again.’
Marina Benjamin on losing.
Hôtel Casanova
Annie Ernaux
‘I never asked myself if I loved P. But nothing could have kept me from going to make love with him at the Hôtel Casanova.’
Memoir by Annie Ernaux, translated by Alison L. Strayer.
Misfortune
André Alexis
‘How many children had accidentally – or purposely, for that matter – shot a parent? Too many to count, no doubt.’
Fiction by André Alexis.
The Public and Private Performance of the Deaf Body
Raymond Antrobus
‘There was always cynicism about Ray being a deaf novelty act.’
Raymond Antrobus on performance, Deafness and Johnnie Ray.
The Antigua Journals (What Is a Homeland)
Chanelle Benz
‘I am used to not belonging; it is, you could say, my brand.’
Chanelle Benz on reuniting with her father in Antigua.
Ordinary People
Richard Eyre
‘Is it courage? Is it stoicism? Is it wilful lack of imagination?’
Richard Eyre on family histories and what it means to be ordinary.