‘The island of Seevl lies like a dark shadow over my memories of childhood.’
Christopher Priest was born in 1943 in Cheadle, a suburb of Manchester. He was educated at Manchester Warehouseman, Clerk’s Orphan School, and, after leaving school, held a wide variety of jobs. Since 1968, he has lived entirely from his writing, which includes six novels, two story collections, a…
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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.
‘It was small and delicate and its song was simple but sweet – the perfect gift. The perfect offering.’
Fiction by Hana Gammon.
‘I could hear the sea, and I could hear my own name.’
Fiction by Eliza Clark.
‘No person or doll had anatomy like that. It was, she reasoned, some mistake, a dud in the assembly line, but something about it felt special, auspicious.’
A story by Adrian Van Young.
‘The girl vomited with rage as Jorge recited the prayer. She struggled and squirmed, kicked and spat.’
A story by Fernanda Melchor, translated by Sophie Hughes.
‘Brother, to be your sister is to confront the possibility of having been other than I am.’
Vanessa Onwuemezi on the meaning of sisterhood.
Caoilinn Hughes on why Zadie Smith’s On Beauty is the best book of 2005
