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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.

Two Poems

Eva Salzman

‘I might as well have not said or done what I said I said or did.’

Poetry by Eva Salzman.

Nothing Special

Nicole Flattery

‘There was very little I could do in life except get dressed, smoke the correct cigarettes.’

An extract from Nothing Special by Nicole Flattery.

On Washing Up and Hoverflies

Beatrice Searle

‘It may be the satisfaction of full hands that brings forth the full feeling essential for words.’

Beatrice Searle on stonemasonry.

Blue Hunger

Viola Di Grado

‘All I wanted was to look at Xu and be looked at by Xu. Be touched by Xu. Be commanded by Xu.’

An extract from Blue Hunger by Viola Di Grado, translated by Jamie Richards.

On Beyoncé

Okechukwu Nzelu

‘Renaissance gives back, by reminding Black queer people what it’s like to be in our most sacred spaces.’

Okechukwu Nzelu on Beyoncé.

Maps of Our Spectacular Bodies

Maddie Mortimer

This one – it’s a bit of a beast, he said.’

An extract from Maps of Our Spectacular Bodies by Maddie Mortimer. Shortlisted for the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year Award 2022.

Eclogue of the ‘Big Garden’

John Kinsella

‘I will go elsewhere / and remember, recall where / I came from’

A poem by John Kinsella.

Introduction

Sigrid Rausing

‘Enough grief. Enough, enough.’

The editor introduces the issue.

Reproducing Paul

Des Fitzgerald

‘Having a child, I came to see, was more a kind of haunting.’

An essay by Des Fitzgerald.

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.

This Is as Far as We Come

Carlos Fonseca

‘Those men and women don’t want rubber. They are after something more ethereal but fearsome: the conversion of souls.’

Fiction by Carlos Fonseca, translated by Megan McDowell.