Today, my brothers, Mohammed and Rubel, are going to foreign. Mohammed is going to Africa and he wears a very handsome uniform.
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‘It was a peculiar, alopecic landscape of hummocks and gullies, with patches of grass growing on what looked like white earth, and rarely a soul to be seen.’
Ian Jack on the legacy of the Scottish textile bleaching industry.
‘When the world releases him from its oily grip will there still be a world?’
Fiction by Dan Shurley, featuring the 2019 explosion of an oil refinery in Philadelphia.
‘Black waves bring animals to the town’s shore. Sticky corpses float on the oil.’
Ariel Saramandi on the sinking of the MV Wakashio off the coast of Mauritius.
‘None of us hung out with them or knew them really, except two boys in our class, who stopped going to school after crude oil became such a big deal.’
A story by Claudia Durastanti, translated from the Italian by Elizabeth Harris.
‘His best photographs are expressionistic, almost calligraphic, as though he’s displaying the hidden signatures our collective appetites have etched across the Earth.’
Anthony Doerr introduces the photography of Edward Burtynsky.
‘Two ways a man can go here, in the direction of God or the direction of believing there is nothing up there but a sun that will kill you whether you pray five times or not.’
An interview with Tahmima Anam, one of Granta's Best Young British Novelists.
Tahmima Anam shares a playlist of songs to write to.
‘If I had known it would put a continent between me and my children I would have killed that map-maker myself.’
An excerpt from Federico Falco’s story collection A Perfect Cemetery.
‘A lot of my stories are like lint in your pocket.’
