‘It is not a question of how he came to grief, ‘but did he play the game?’’
No kind of conversation known to man can for a moment compete in point of dullness with the habitual discourse of the genuine City Man. What is so and so worth? What did he start with? How much did he lose in Kaffirs? What did he give for that place he bought in Kent? How has he been doing at Newmar…
Sign in to Granta.com.
‘The anglophone world, we have to infer, has run out of words for its own feelings.’
Daisy Hildyard on the wisdom of scarecrows.
‘What is the read receipt for?’
Lillian Fishman on texting, power and the ethics of leaving a friend on read.
‘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.
‘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.
‘rumors of bees on speedwell, / no oxidative stress just / effortless pollination’
Two poems by Sylvia Legris.
‘How do you love a monster when they are no longer monstrous?’
New fiction by Diana Evans.
‘For you, an image makes sight sacrosanct. It wasn’t always like that.’
Guy Gunaratne introduces photography by Kalpesh Lathigra.
‘She rings a tiny cymbal over your body. She says, The experience is finished now.’
A story by Yara Rodrigues Fowler.
‘As evidenced by the Met show, everyone wants to be a bit punk.’
Anouchka Grose on the birth and death and rebirth of punk.
‘Was the sunburn part of the shtick? she wondered while the video continued to play.’
A story by Megan Kamalei Kakimoto.
‘I’ve always thought of myself as someone who writes outside of the dominant culture; an outsider looking in.’
