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Ian Jack | Is Travel Writing Dead?

Ian Jack

‘Travel writing of most kinds, not just the humorous, has the history of colonialism perched on its shoulder.’

Pico Iyer | Is Travel Writing Dead?

Pico Iyer

‘The writer on place has to go further inward, into the realm of silence and nuance and personal enquiry.’

Mohsin Hamid | Is Travel Writing Dead?

Mohsin Hamid

‘I have come to believe that we are all migrants, that the experience of migration unites all human beings.’

Eliza Griswold | Is Travel Writing Dead?

Eliza Griswold

‘Even in its subtler forms, the act of looking is an act of self-regard.’

A Scale Model of Gull Point

Kate Folk

Trapped in a revolving restaurant during an American revolution, Shel VanRybroek turns to tin-foil sculpture.

Ken Follett Reads ‘Bad Faith’

Ken Follett

Ken Follett reads his piece, ‘Bad Faith’, from Granta 137

Spiders from Jerusalem

Wioletta Greg

‘When the Holy Family was fleeing from Jerusalem, spiders wove such a thick web around the road that the swords of Herod’s soldiers couldn’t pierce it.’

Best Book of 1967: A Touch of Mistletoe by Barbara Comyns

Camilla Grudova

‘I bought my copy for a few dollars from a second hand bookshop so stuffy I often faint on the doorstep after browsing inside, my hands swollen and red from dust mites.’

Best Book of 1766: Strange Tales From a Chinese Studio by Pu Songling

Dave Haysom

Dave Haysom on why Strange Tales From a Chinese Studio by Pu Songling is the best book of 1766.

Best Book of 1967: Ice by Anna Kavan

Eli Goldstone

‘What a writer, and what a vision. What a perfect book to read in preparation for the end of the world.’

Best book of 1947: L’Écume des Jours by Boris Vian

Xiaolu Guo

‘In those spring nights, I sat by barbecue stalls in the streets of Beijing, reading this novel under dim streetlights while eating lamb skewers.’

Words and the Word

Miranda France

Miranda France on how C.S. Lewis and T.S. Eliot redrafted the Anglican Book of Common Prayer.

Best Book of 1993: Written on the Body

Melissa Febos

‘Influences imprint themselves on our consciousness as light does a photograph, or trauma the psyche’

The Binoculars of Jah

Colin Grant

‘No matter how I attempted to interpret the email, it could only be read in one way: I was out of the Bunny Wailer club. Jah Bunny had put a curse on me.’