You won’t know me, won’t see my face. Unless you see my face. And then it will be too late.
To read this in full, take out a subscription to Granta. Over forty years of new writing at your fingertips – subscribe now.
Sign in to Granta.com.
Lover
Joyce Carol Oates
‘You won't know me, won't see my face. Unless you see my face. And then it will be too late.’
Granta 167: Extraction Online
You Are the Product
‘The anglophone world, we have to infer, has run out of words for its own feelings.’
Daisy Hildyard on the wisdom of scarecrows.
You Are the Product
‘What is the read receipt for?’
Lillian Fishman on texting, power and the ethics of leaving a friend on read.
You Are the Product
‘Like pretty much everyone who uses the internet, I have seen many terrible things that I did not search for and that I cannot unsee.’
Rosanna McLaughlin on what the internet thinks she wants.
You Are the Product
‘I have a pathological addiction to the internet, which I indulge with the excuse of making art. It rarely translates to anything good and mostly leaves me overstimulated and afraid.’
Paul Dalla Rosa on excess and the internet.
Two Poems
‘rumors of bees on speedwell, / no oxidative stress just / effortless pollination’
Two poems by Sylvia Legris.
