The Book of the Dead
A gothic tale of love between a noblewoman and a ghost in eighth century Japan, translated by Jeffrey Angles.
Hilditch & Key
A Syrian refugee visits London’s oldest houses of fashion. ‘The contemplation of the perfection of a craft, worn by a man who knew its worth, and his own.’
‘The Armadillo Man is watching her. She gives him a good show – the best she has to offer.’
What’s Not There Can’t Hurt You
‘A shadow gained body and grew, looming over the bed, and he caught the impression of long teeth and many limbs, smelled something claylike and vegetal.’
Memoirs of a Polar Bear
‘I was perfectly content with my new life until I began to write my autobiography.’
‘She feels the wildness enter her and keeps her eyes shut.’ New fiction from Eliza Robertson.
‘It must be a dreadful cross: this hot desire to join in with people who don’t want you.’
‘The eel I saw was the one lying deep and quiet and alone in his coppery pool in the bush.’ 2016 Commonwealth Short Story Prize – regional winner for Europe and Canada.
‘My love for him felt so total and so annihilating that it was often impossible for me to see him clearly at all.’
All We Shall Know
‘Thoughts sharpen themselves on the flints of one another and pierce me like a knife in my middle, sunk deep and twisted around.’
A Visit to the Zoo
‘The two chameleons in a glass case appeared to interest all of them, Heinrich thought, because of their beauty and their stillness. They looked like a pale painting.’
The Conveyor Belt
‘Tall men that looked like insects crept out of cracks in the stones.’
Last Day on Earth
‘Despite my efforts at denial the new reality of our lives was beginning to sink in.’
‘It was in January, I think. That weekend, more than any other, the thought of her leaving seemed impossible.’
The Middle Ages: Approaching the Question of a Terminal Date
‘What is left? What is he to wrap himself in, now that everything has floated off into space?’
To Rio de Janeiro
‘In the end, what one understands in Rio de Janeiro is that joy is the only coherence of a living being.’
‘You didn’t know where you wanted to end up, had never considered how much time you had left.’
‘She felt things under the skin: scars where the body had torn during childbirth, clumps of cellulite, lobules and ducts.’
Look Out, Narendran!
A madman is dead set on blowing up the Taj Mahal, and there’s only one pair of detectives who can stop him. Tamil Pulp Fiction at its best.
‘A single pod of cardamom! Was that enough? To flavour an entire life’s pot of time?’
The Ferryman Is Dead
Here, more die than are born. There’s a refrigerator at the bottom of the lake. The ferryman is dead. No one is coming to take his place.
The Argentine Episcopate
‘I started working for the Bishop of San Julián in 1939, not long after the death of my husband.’
‘Desire was a slapping, bone-chilling wind the likes of which did not exist this close to the equator.’
‘I had a new persona I’d been planning to introduce the first day of school: a girl wise beyond her years who was not at all nerdy or spastic or prone to crying jags.’
Filling Up With Sugar
‘The vagina was the first part of her mother’s body that turned to sugar.’