‘I wish I could do it to myself.’
She plunged.
‘When you love somebody, Sal, are you constantly afraid of losing him?’
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‘Ian was a gifted journalist and editor of immense common sense, and had an insatiable curiosity about the world around him. We will miss him.’
Editor of Granta, Sigrid Rausing, remembers Ian Jack.
‘It was a peculiar, alopecic landscape of hummocks and gullies, with patches of grass growing on what looked like white earth, and rarely a soul to be seen.’
Ian Jack on the slag heaps of Glasgow, and the aristocratic lives built on them.
‘Could grief for one woman have caused all this? We were told so.’
Ian Jack in 1997 on the death of Diana.
‘Always and everywhere, this unequal struggle to preserve and remember.’
Ian Jack recalls the missing buildings of his hometown, Farnworth.
‘Outside wars and nuclear accidents, it is hard to think of any technological failure which has had such lasting and widespread effects.’
Ian Jack on the Hatfield train crash, from Granta 73.
‘He understands he is a container. For music, for movement.’
An excerpt from Meg Howrey’s novel, set in the world of professional ballet.
‘At school, the primroses were coming out. Brighton was eleven, and every day now there was something new emerging.’
A story by Georgina Parfitt.
‘Owing to lack of interest, tomorrow has been cancelled, you are now in the strawberry beds of the eternal present.’
Unpublished fiction by the late Derek Jarman.
‘I knew a woman’s life could at any point be turned into a crime scene.’
An excerpt from Strega.
‘She saw a small swatch of pink and supposed a sunset was out there and thought, What can that knockout pink do for me?’
New fiction by Diane Williams.
‘Long after I had ceased feeling guilty about my father’s death, I still felt defined by it.’
