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In Her Room
Wang Anyi
‘It would be wrong to say she hasn’t experienced life. Instead, it would be more apt to describe her as someone whom time has slipped by without leaving the slightest trace.’
Fiction by Wang Anyi, translated by Michael Berry.
Images of Women
Elvira Navarro
‘In the years before his stroke, just how many times had her father told a woman he loved her after dating for two or three weeks?’
Fiction by Elvira Navarro, translated by Christina MacSweeney.
International Soul Cultist
Toye Oladinni
‘They started out as fraternities, the cults. Poorer students wanted strong networks, like the ones boarding school pupils had already.’
Fiction by Toye Oladinni.
Podcast | Wang Xiaoshuai
Wang Xiaoshuai
‘It’s more like painting. It’s not like a film.’
Wang Xiaoshuai on the evolution of Chinese cinema and the challenges faced by those working at the vanguard of independent film.
Two Poems
Yu Xiang
‘a centipede devours a grand piano, so / ten thousand fingers / devour Bach’
Poetry by Yu Xiang, translated by Fiona Sze-Lorrain.
Ancestors
Ekhmetjan Osman
‘A cold star breeze, you pass through my eyelashes.’
A poem by Ekhmetjan Osman translated by Joshua L. Freeman.
The Translator
Tahir Hamut Izgil
‘I might walk endlessly’
A poem by Tahir Hamut Izgil, translated by Joshua L. Freeman.
Spam for President
Harryette Mullen
‘My voice may grate your nerves again.’
A poem by Harryette Mullen.
Friends
Jia Pingwa
‘Your friends might never know you intimately. There are those that will know you intimately but never be your friend.’
Jia Pingwa on friendship.
Ocean Hotpot
Si’an Chen
‘I promise you, the committee only looks at two things: how feasible a proposal is, and what it could actually do for the environment.’
A bureaucrat and an entrepreneur discuss environment-saving proposals in a short play by Si’an Chen, translated by Jeremy Tiang.
The Secret Pattern
Aube Rey Lescure
‘My father said there is fate and destiny governing each of our paths, of individuals and of nations, and this only the dead may know.’
Aube Rey Lescure on returning to China.
Malandrino
Joe Stretch
‘On the doorstep, in the glare of the security lamp, was a thin, bearded man holding a black, breathless terrier.’
Fiction by Joe Stretch.
