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‘ My stunningly crummy apartment–there were big holes in the walls and I lay awake nights worrying about how they got there’.
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‘There’s this paradoxical nostalgia where even though yi suffered, yi miss it.’
Memoir by Graeme Armstrong.
‘She boils her sentences down to high-sucrose sweeties and calibrates her tone for maximum engagement.’
Fiction by Natasha Brown.
‘The monstrous years of my late teens lay lined up alongside the rest of my life like bullets in a gun.’
A story by Sophie Mackintosh.
‘Without waiting for me she removes her white shirt. Each button a piece of my own spine, undone.’
Fiction by K Patrick.
‘I followed him onto the dancefloor and he put his hands on my hips as if he’d known me for at least an hour.’
Fiction by Saba Sams.
Todd McEwen was born in California in 1953 and graduated from Columbia University in New York in 1975. He worked in broadcasting, theatre and the rare book trade before settling in Scotland in 1981. He lives in Edinburgh with his wife, novelist Lucy Ellman. Several of his stories have been published by Granta magazine. This is his fourth novel. Todd McEwen was born in California in 1953 and graduated from Columbia University in New York in 1975. He worked in broadcasting, theatre and the rare book trade before settling in Scotland in 1981. He lives in Edinburgh with his wife, novelist Lucy Ellman. Several of his stories have been published by Granta magazine. This is his fourth novel.
More about the author →‘Characteristically my wife refused to be drawn into the situation while I became obsessed with it.’
Americans, speaking of foreign lands, often say, 'It's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.'
‘None of these high-falutin pansy-ass would-be 'technologies' are going to save literature.’
‘North by Northwest isn't a film about what happens to Cary Grant, it's about what happens to his suit.’
‘Against each wall stands an ornate throne—junk, dark Victorian junk, pulled by crowbar twenty years ago from the old lodge in the doomed downtown. Sitting on each is a battered looking Elk in a frayed tuxedo or black suit, his shoes cracked as the skin around his eyes. You feel sure they will sleep, and soon.’
‘Winning, it turns out, was the cracking whip that meant gamblers had to stay where they were until they lost their money all over again.’
Marina Benjamin on losing.
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