Kathmandu, 1983. I was eighteen. In the Office of Controlled Immigration where my three school friends and I extended our visas, billboards shed notices like autumn leaves – photos of missing persons, stolen passports, wanted men: drug traffickers, art thieves, fraudsters, lost souls. One night Ch…
Our favourites from 2016
Why We’re Post-Fact
Peter Pomerantsev on the move to post-truth politics.
Violence in Blue
Statistician Patrick Ball on the unprecedented number of police homicides in the United States.
The Raingod’s Green, Dark as Passion
Kevin Barry remembers writing in Cork.
Words and the Word
Miranda France on how C.S. Lewis and T.S. Eliot redrafted the Anglican Book of Common Prayer.
Peace Shall Destroy Many
‘It creates deep-seated wells of rage that find no release.’ Miriam Toews on pacifism in Mennonite communities.
‘Every sect needs jargon. We did not have churches, we had halls; services were called meetings; the congregation was the assembly; elders were overseers’