Photograph courtesy of Cynan Jones
Cynan Jones spoke to online editor Ted Hodgkinson about why he doesn’t want to be defined as a Welsh writer, the pleasures and challenges of writing short stories and novellas and writing about the growing pains of adolescence.
Photograph courtesy of Cynan Jones
‘The slutty ingenuity of vegetables when it comes to desire and reproductive methods is a marvel.’
Rebecca May Johnson negotiates allotment culture.
‘Globalisation is incomplete: money can go anywhere, but laws cannot.’
Oliver Bullough on one of Britain’s most contested outposts: the British Virgin Islands.
‘You discover during your very first lessons that the problem of singing better involves overcoming many other problems you had not ever imagined.’
A new story from Lydia Davis.
‘She began to count; it was easier this way, counting, because she would not have to remember how she felt.’
An excerpt from Ukamaka Olisakwe’s Ogadinma.
‘Like any desert, I learn myself by what’s desired of me—
and I am demoned by those desires.’
From Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz.
Cynan Jones was born in 1975 near Aberaeron, Wales. He is the author of five short novels, The Long Dry, Everything I Found on the Beach, Bird, Blood, Snow, The Dig, and Cove. His work is published in over 20 countries and has won several prizes including a Betty Trask Award, the Jerwood Fiction Uncovered Award, the Wales Book of the Year Fiction prize, and the BBC National Short Story Award. He has also written stories for radio and screen, and a collection of tales for children. Other writing has appeared in numerous publications including Granta and the New Yorker. He was elected a Fellow of the RSL in 2019. www.cynanjones.com
More about the author →Ted Hodgkinson is the previous online editor at Granta. He was a judge for the 2012 Costa Book Awards’ poetry prize, announced earlier this year. He managed the Santa Maddalena Foundation in Tuscany, the affiliated Gregor Von Rezzori Literary Prize and still serves as an advisor. His stories have appeared in Notes from the Underground and The Mays and his criticism in the Times Literary Supplement. He has an MA in English from Oxford and an MFA from Columbia.
More about the author →‘A kestrel is not domestic. The one time I tried affection the bird put his beak through my lip.’
‘A pair of seagulls. I say a pair. They might just be good friends.’
‘Believe me – it will be impossible for you not to wonder – when I vow I am entirely sane.’
‘In the car lights he could see just beyond the runs the bodies of cars like some disassembled ghost train littering the field.’
‘even more it was a wish for boundless spaces, a wish for the inexpressibly wide and broad, for the unharnessing of human life’ – New poetry by Sharmistha Mohanty.
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