'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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Alison Smith on the week she spent with Ursula K. Le Guin.
This surreal tale from Haruki Murakami circles a Charlie Parker album that never existed. Translated from the Japanese by Philip Gabriel.
A monastic community persists after a ‘great chaos and collapse’ in this story by the 2018 Nobel Prize for Literature laureate, Olga Tokarczuk. Translated from the Polish by Jennifer Croft
Two poems from Rebecca Tamás’ collection WITCH.
Summer Brennan on high heels, foot-binding, and our ongoing performances of gender.
‘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.’
‘The lettuce sat in its brown bag, wilting in the unseasonable warmth.’
