At five in the afternoon, the Bahia de Abyla sailed out of Algeciras. It was the last ferry of the day, and Thomas Wavery was on his way to Africa, having spent the morning in Gibraltar.
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‘At five in the afternoon, the Bahia de Abyla sailed out of Algeciras.‘
At five in the afternoon, the Bahia de Abyla sailed out of Algeciras. It was the last ferry of the day, and Thomas Wavery was on his way to Africa, having spent the morning in Gibraltar.
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‘We meet at various points in the great swathes of the past that neither of us were alive to witness.’
Allen Bratton on a daytrip to a castle with his older boyfriend.
‘Listening to three white poets, whom I suspect are academics, talk about the state of poetry.’
Oluwaseun Olayiwola eavesdrops on an older generation.
‘I’d been dubious about his company at first.’
Sarah Moss on watching Shakespeare with her twelve-year-old son.
‘She didn’t trust us because, to her, tenants were like children.’
Kate Zambreno on negotiating with her older landlady.
‘A moment now swallowed in embarrassment, I asked a question only a young person might ask an older one.’
Lynne Tillman on trying to understand what makes a generation.
Nicholas Shakespeare was one of Granta's Best of Young British Novelists in 1993. He has written for Granta on Abimael Guzman, Martha Gellhorn and Tasmania, the background to his most recent novel, Secrets of the Sea. He is also the author of a biography Bruce Chatwin, and is currently preparing an edition of Chatwin's letters.
More about the author →‘What clipped the wings of her fiction and grounded her imagination was precisely what made her soar as a journalist.’
‘If you like people who hate each other, it’s paradise.’
‘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.’
‘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.’
‘We decided then to tell each other exactly how a typical fuck played out in our marriages. We couldn’t believe we’d never done this before.’
Fiction by Miranda July.
‘Helfrecht’s forest is a place where dead wood has taken on the form of a woman, where we stare wild animals in the eye, where we suspect body parts may be hidden under the snow.’
Hanna Englemeier introduces photography by Elena Helfrecht. Translated by Peter Kuras.
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