'The war was almost over. On the other side of the plain, the enemy artillery base lay silent; no reconnaissance plane had yet appeared on the horizon.'
The sun had not yet risen, but above the grassy plain, the mist was already starting to drift away. The village of Diem–a cluster of shacks along the highway–was emerging from the night.
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‘Then the wolves began to howl. After that, it was winter.’
A story by Angela Carter from Granta 3: The End of the English Novel.
‘If our fear was a landscape, it would be a prairie, a great plain.’
An essay by Cal Flyn from Granta 153: Second Nature.
‘It had not been dead for long. In fact, she had not checked that it was dead at all.’
A story set in rural Wales, by Elizabeth O’Connor.
‘All of it is wolf country; nowhere is a wolf to be seen’
An essay by Adam Nicolson from Granta 128: American Wild.
‘he is Bête du Gévaudan / killer-wolf and loup-garou’
Two poems by Pascale Petit.
‘I wanted to see a communist victory, which I presumed to be inevitable. I wanted to see the fall of a city.’
‘When I look at a word, I can see the thing inside it. The ear inside heart.’
‘I didn’t have the language for why I could not be a tourist in the same way as my white counterparts.’
‘Immigration has become a physical thing, like a tumor inside us, between us.’
