‘What clipped the wings of her fiction and grounded her imagination was precisely what made her soar as a journalist.’
Martha Gellhorn wrote frequently for Granta in the 1980s when, late in her life, she re-established her requtation as one of the century’s best reporters. She died on 15 February 1998, aged eightly-nine.
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‘I alone know a running stream
that is recovery partly and dim sweat
of a day-fever’
A poem by Rowan Evans.
‘Humour is a thread we hang onto. It punctures through the fog of guilt.’
Momtaza Mehri in conversation with Warsan Shire.
‘Something shifted in me that night. A small voice in my head said, maybe you can make a way for yourself as a poet here, too.’
Mary Jean Chan in conversation with Andrew McMillan.
‘There was to be an exhibition. There were lots of pictures like his, apparently – of waiters, pastry cooks, valets, bellboys.’
An essay by Jason Allen-Paisant from Granta 159: What Do You See?
‘I have started to see that nothing is itself’
A poem by Jason Allen-Paisant from Granta 154: I’ve Been Away for a While.
‘If you like people who hate each other, it’s paradise.’
‘By coming to Tasmania, I'd repeated the pattern of an ancient, unknown relative and the discovery pleased me in a profound and mysterious way.’
‘At five in the afternoon, the Bahia de Abyla sailed out of Algeciras.‘
‘They called him Presidente Gonzalo, but his name was Abimael Guzmán. I had come to Lima to find Guzmán, although I knew I wouldn't succeed.’
‘A sudden rustling in your chest. A premonition of understanding.’
Fiction by Banana Yoshimoto, translated by Asa Yoneda.
‘So much good poetry is being written in and about and for this ghastly time. I cling to it.’
