‘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…
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‘I think there should be a National Service of Hospitality. The best way to see the true face of humanity is to serve it a plate of chips.’
Camilla Grudova on bad-mannered customers.
‘Anyone who has ever worked night shifts will understand the vertiginous feeling that comes with staring down the day from the wrong end.’
A.K. Blakemore on working nights.
‘I was constantly reading job ads, trying to find my holy grail – a job I could stand to do, and someone foolish enough to hire me.’
Sandra Newman on learning how to play professional blackjack.
‘I loved being a receptionist. What I loved about it was playing the part of being a receptionist.’
Emily Berry on being a temporary office worker.
‘Every part of you would swell, including your eyeballs, and no matter how much water you drank, you were always dehydrated.’
Junot Díaz on working for a steel mill.
‘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.
Two women working shifts in a train station make a connection in this short story translated from the German by Katy Derbyshire.
