‘If you like people who hate each other, it’s paradise.’
Now that I’m no longer living in India, whenever there’s a hot day I think of a huge swimming pool in Bombay and Sylvia Billington.
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‘Then the wolves began to howl. After that, it was winter.’
A story by Angela Carter from Granta 3: The End of the English Novel.
‘If our fear was a landscape, it would be a prairie, a great plain.’
An essay by Cal Flyn from Granta 153: Second Nature.
‘It had not been dead for long. In fact, she had not checked that it was dead at all.’
A story set in rural Wales, by Elizabeth O’Connor.
‘All of it is wolf country; nowhere is a wolf to be seen’
An essay by Adam Nicolson from Granta 128: American Wild.
‘he is Bête du Gévaudan / killer-wolf and loup-garou’
Two poems by Pascale Petit.
‘What clipped the wings of her fiction and grounded her imagination was precisely what made her soar as a journalist.’
‘By coming to Tasmania, I'd repeated the pattern of an ancient, unknown relative and the discovery pleased me in a profound and mysterious way.’
‘At five in the afternoon, the Bahia de Abyla sailed out of Algeciras.‘
‘They called him Presidente Gonzalo, but his name was Abimael Guzmán. I had come to Lima to find Guzmán, although I knew I wouldn't succeed.’
‘What was she ushering in and what was a grand program for which she was simply helpless agent?’
An excerpt from Search History by Eugene Lim.
Two Ireland-based writers discussing national identity, disappointing holidays and art deco china.
