Poet at the Automat: Charles Reznikoff

Eliot Weinberger, 22 January 2015

Charles Reznikoff​ may be the most elusive poet in American poetry and his book-length Testimony the most elusive long poem of modernism. He is remembered as a kind of New York saint, an urban...

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Poem: ‘Camera Obscura’

Robert Crawford, 8 January 2015

Nae knickers, all fur coat Slurped Valvona and Crolla, Tweed-lapelled, elbow-patched, tartan-skirted, Kilted, Higgs-bosoned, tramless, trammelled and trammed, Awash with drowned witches...

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Not Dead Yet: Latin

Anthony Grafton, 8 January 2015

On 22 May 1724​ James Logan, a wealthy Philadelphian fur trader, scientist and bibliophile, took a day trip with friends from London to Windsor. Big crowds accompanied them, and no wonder: they...

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‘We’re identical’: Elena Ferrante

Christopher Tayler, 8 January 2015

A woman’s husband​ leaves her, she’s determined not to lose it, she loses it, she gets herself back together: that’s the plot of Elena Ferrante’s The Days of...

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When​ Marie-Antoinette couldn’t sleep, she would ring for a lady-in-waiting to come and read to her; a rota of lectrices was on call at Versailles at any time of day or night; before...

Read more about Performances for Sleepless Tyrants: ‘Tales of the Marvellous’

Nothing but the Worst: Paul de Man

Michael Wood, 8 January 2015

‘How often in my life have I said those words, and yet?’ John Banville, Shroud ‘I had jumped​,’ Conrad’s Jim says of his abandonment of his ship, adding a...

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Poem: ‘WE’

Jorie Graham, 8 January 2015

Looked for all the intersections. Time and fiction. Asked can it be / true? Time and history. Asked can it really be true? This is happening. But is / not what the real feels like. The past? Is senseless.

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By All Possible Art: George Herbert

Tobias Gregory, 18 December 2014

For​ the gospel message to come as good news, one must first be convinced of some really bad news. This bad news is not obvious, and the devout must work hard to keep it vivid in the minds of...

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The Narrow Road to the Deep North is the novel in an advanced and showy state of dissolution.

Read more about Is his name Alwyn? Richard Flanagan’s Sticky Collage

Writing Machines: On Realism and the Real

Tom McCarthy, 18 December 2014

It’s an interesting paradox that the 19th-century realists took the counter-realist impulse much further than the 20th-century anti-realists.

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She shall be nameless: Marlen Haushofer

Nicholas Spice, 18 December 2014

Among​ the leading Austrian writers of the postwar period, Marlen Haushofer is an unobtrusive presence. Where Bachmann and Bernhard, Handke and Jelinek all in their time achieved international...

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Poem: ‘Heading Out’

John Ashbery, 4 December 2014

A single drop fills the rainbow glass. The fountain overflows. How come the purr and passing of this every night arrives at stealth? Just – be prepared. If it happens every day around this...

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The life of Franz Kafka reads like a truly great comedy in the tradition of Blackadder.

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The Castaway: Algeria’s Camus

Jeremy Harding, 4 December 2014

December​ 1938 in a large provincial city. It’s the last chance for the council to agree the municipal budget; in the chamber a reporter from the local paper tries to wring a bit of fun...

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A Turn for the Woowoo: David Mitchell

Theo Tait, 4 December 2014

David Mitchell​ is a career-long genre-bender. Only with his fourth book, Black Swan Green (2006), did he raid his own store of experience to write a first-novelish novel, a charming if low-key...

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I blame Christianity: Rachel Cusk

Jenny Turner, 4 December 2014

Chapter​ 6 of Rachel Cusk’s new novel takes place round a large square table at a creative writing course in Athens. The narrator asks each student in turn to tell a story. The fourth is...

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What’s wrong with that man? Donald Antrim

Christian Lorentzen, 20 November 2014

In August​ a man in the Bronx tied a chain to a pole, wrapped it around his neck, got behind the wheel of his Honda and stepped on the accelerator. The chain severed his head from his body,...

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There is​ no sign that Freud read Jane Austen. Yet in her use of the words ‘unconscious’ and ‘unconsciously’, Austen might have had some claim to his attention. The...

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