‘Peter Mitchell died on a frontier, not so much between black and white, or between the landed and the landless, as between the past and the future.’
In October 1999, in the KwaZulu-Natal province of South Africa, a young man I’ve named Peter Mitchell was shot to death on his father’s farm at about two o’clock on a Monday afternoon. He was twenty-eight years old, a big, chunky guy, square-faced and blond. In his graduation pictures, he towe…
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‘I think there should be a National Service of Hospitality. The best way to see the true face of humanity is to serve it a plate of chips.’
Camilla Grudova on bad-mannered customers.
‘Anyone who has ever worked night shifts will understand the vertiginous feeling that comes with staring down the day from the wrong end.’
A.K. Blakemore on working nights.
‘I was constantly reading job ads, trying to find my holy grail – a job I could stand to do, and someone foolish enough to hire me.’
Sandra Newman on learning how to play professional blackjack.
‘I loved being a receptionist. What I loved about it was playing the part of being a receptionist.’
Emily Berry on being a temporary office worker.
‘Every part of you would swell, including your eyeballs, and no matter how much water you drank, you were always dehydrated.’
Junot Díaz on working for a steel mill.
Mark Gevisser and Jonny Steinberg discuss recent South African history, their personal relationship to Johannesburg, and their personal relationship to a divided city.
‘The old romantic warning not to trust a machine more than one’s own intuition has renewed urgency in the digital age.’
Photography by Salvatore Vitale, introduced by Granta.
‘I can’t help Lentille. Even though she roars. As long as she roars, I won’t be able to work.’
An essay from Urs Mannhart, translated by Christine Müller
‘I will go elsewhere / and remember, recall where / I came from’
A poem by John Kinsella.
Ntsika Kota is the winner of the 2022 Commonwealth Short Story Prize for Africa.
‘Human nature is not improved by concealment, especially when it comes to the past.’
A short story by Andrew O’Hagan.
