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← Back to all issuesGranta 133: What Have We Done
Autumn 2015
In this issue, acclaimed nature writer Barry Lopez meditates on language and seeing; Australian writer Rebecca Giggs witnesses the monumental death of a stranded whale; science writer Fred Pearce describes the effort to keep Sellafield safe; poet Kathleen Jamie travels to the Alaskan wilderness; and Adam Nicolson investigates murder in rural Romania, with photographs by Gus Palmer.
Plus: unpublished extracts from the notebooks of Roger Deakin, introduced by Robert MacFarlane.
Fiction by Ben Marcus, Ann Beattie, Deb Olin Unferth and David Szalay. Poetry by Noelle Kocot, Maureen N. McLane, Ange Mlinko and Andrew Motion. Photography by Helge Skodvin, introduced by Audrey Niffenegger.
From this Issue
|Granta 133
Introduction: What Have We Done
Sigrid Rausing
‘There is an apocalyptic feeling in the air. I write the day after the news that the IS have blown up parts of the ancient site of Palmyra.’
|Granta 133
George and Elizabeth
Ben Marcus
‘She could see, or was starting to, that someone out there was seeing him, watching him.’
|Granta 133
Lady Neptune
Ann Beattie
‘The word money popped up like a bit of the ocean’s detritus riding in on a wave, but her lips formed the words ‘Merry Christmas’.’
|Granta 133
Nature Morte
Helge Skodvin & Audrey Niffenegger
‘The ghost in the machine is gone for good.’
|Granta 133
Upriver
Kathleen Jamie
‘I liked the way she travelled: with her iPod in one pocket, her traditional Yup’ik woman’s knife, or ulu, in the other.’
|Granta 133
The Middle Ages: Approaching the Question of a Terminal Date
David Szalay
‘What is left? What is he to wrap himself in, now that everything has floated off into space?’
|Granta 133
To the Ocean
Deb Olin Unferth
‘At the desk they said they encouraged guests not to walk, but she was determined’
|Granta 133
Hunters in the Snow
Andrew Motion
‘The hunters have all failed, / the three hunters and their forlorn dogs / now arriving home from the mountain / which thunders above their village’
|Granta 133
About the Cover
Stanley Donwood
‘I took myself off to the woods, the fragments of the great forests that once spread over our continent.’
