Mixed Up: In the génocidaire’s wake

Joanna Kavenna, 3 March 2005

Andrew Miller’s first two novels, Ingenious Pain (1997) and Casanova (1998), were extended fantasies set in an imaginatively embellished 18th century. In his third novel, Oxygen (2001),...

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Old, Old, Old, Old, Old: Late Yeats

John Kerrigan, 3 March 2005

The Abbey Theatre, Dublin, 1938. An old pedlar and his young son stand on a moonlit stage bare but for the ruins of a great house and a leafless tree. The Old Man declares that the house is still...

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Poem: ‘Dogs’

Bill Manhire, 3 March 2005

I tried to work up a little poetry – ‘the ever-restless spirit of man’ – ‘the mysterious, awe-inspiring wilderness of ice’ – but it was no good; I suppose...

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Two Poems

Conor O’Callaghan, 3 March 2005

The Narrator, during the break in chapter, gets up to stretch beneath a skylight and hears seagulls, small girls running. So many pages since he listened last that he can’t recall how it...

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A Knife at the Throat: Meticulously modelled

Christopher Tayler, 3 March 2005

Ian McEwan’s vividly and meticulously imagined novels often focus on characters whose imaginations are either unwholesomely vivid or dryly meticulous. At one end of the spectrum lurk the...

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Why Sakhalin? charting Chekhov’s career

Joseph Frank, 17 February 2005

Chekhov biographers are lucky: they don’t have to face the problem of spending a good deal of time studying the life of someone they are liable to end up disliking intensely. Lawrence...

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Poem: ‘Florida Frost’

Tony Harrison, 17 February 2005

Cancer carried off his cherished wife as Florida floundered in a freak harsh freeze and let the fahrenheit out of his life never to gain back its lost degrees. He still can’t quite believe...

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Disconnected Realities: In the Munro mould

Mary Hawthorne, 17 February 2005

If you open a road atlas at Ontario, you can see that the roads charted by the thin red and blue lines of Huron County, adhere to the geometry and history of acreage, drawing rectangles in a...

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Dithyrambs for Athens: The difficulties of reading Pindar

Leofranc Holford-Strevens, 17 February 2005

The Theban poet Pindar (c.520-446 BC), though he wrote much else, is principally known for his magnificent odes, known as epinicians, in praise of athletic victories by aristocrats and tyrants,...

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Two Poems

Sarah Manguso, 17 February 2005

The Black Garden The first thing I did was imagine a circle and get in it. Then I paid my bills and coughed up some neutrinos. Things seemed to be going my way. Outside the circle the world...

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Three Poems

Jamie McKendrick, 17 February 2005

Postcard Ciao bella! we’re near this stretch of Emerald Coast, but the sea view’s even better: soon as we landed S whisked us off on his motoscafo Magnum for an eyeful. I see how he...

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One day, María de las Nieves Moran, the heroine of Francisco Goldman’s The Divine Husband, unexpectedly receives a letter from a woman who had, many years earlier, been her fellow...

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In His Hot Head: Robert Louis Stevenson

Andrew O’Hagan, 17 February 2005

Standing on the deck of the sinking Lusitania, the American theatrical manager Charles Frohman spoke his last words. ‘Why fear death?’ he was heard to say. ‘It is the most...

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Pick the small ones: Girls Are Rubbish

Marina Warner, 17 February 2005

Dryden and D’Avenant’s debonair travesty of The Tempest pairs the innocent heroine, Dorinda, with Hippolito, a male juvenile lead of equal springtime guilelessness. While Miranda...

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We’re encouraged by the Romantics and the Freudians to think that childhood is when we are most ‘natural’ and least broken-in to cultural norms. However, in childhood we are...

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A Severed Penis: Magic realism in Mozambique

Elizabeth Lowry, 3 February 2005

Mia Couto is a white Mozambican who writes in Portuguese, perhaps the most prominent of his generation of writers – he is 50 this year – in Lusophone Africa. His recurring theme is...

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Poem: ‘An Old Woman’s Birthday’

Edwin Morgan, 3 February 2005

That’s me ninety-four. If we are celebrating I’ll take a large Drambuie, many thanks, and then I’ll have a small one every evening for the next six years. After that –...

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Poem: ‘Aphorisms’

Don Paterson, 3 February 2005

Imagining the worst is no talisman against it. * My time here has afforded me no enlightenment; though my night-vision has improved enormously. In fact it seems to have evolved as if it were...

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