‘In 1956, my father was thirty-nine years old. He didn't even know how to boil an egg.’
In 1956, my father was thirty-nine years old. He didn’t even know how to boil an egg. But within two years he was creating the kookiest dinners in Washington and had the World Bank eating out of his hand. When he got back, everybody wanted to know how he had done it.
Sign in to Granta.com.
‘The anglophone world, we have to infer, has run out of words for its own feelings.’
Daisy Hildyard on the wisdom of scarecrows.
‘What is the read receipt for?’
Lillian Fishman on texting, power and the ethics of leaving a friend on read.
‘Like pretty much everyone who uses the internet, I have seen many terrible things that I did not search for and that I cannot unsee.’
Rosanna McLaughlin on what the internet thinks she wants.
‘I have a pathological addiction to the internet, which I indulge with the excuse of making art. It rarely translates to anything good and mostly leaves me overstimulated and afraid.’
Paul Dalla Rosa on excess and the internet.
‘rumors of bees on speedwell, / no oxidative stress just / effortless pollination’
Two poems by Sylvia Legris.
‘Identity, it seemed, was not so self-determined after all.’
‘It is to Shakespeare’s pages I return whenever I feel I am sinking. There I can be sure to find a lifeline.’
‘You have to go on the offensive until you smell victory. Then you have the aphrodisiac and can go full tilt.’
‘The past has never been as present as it is now in the world. But at the same time, all over the world, the determination to manipulate what we know has also never been stronger.’
'I let the tears roll down to the sides of my mouth, and licked them to harden my insides. I wanted to cry gushingly, but I couldn't.'
A team of statisticians tries to answer the question: Of those people who become infected by Covid-19, how many will die?
