In the latest issue:

Loathed by Huysmans

Julian Barnes

Too early or too late?

David Runciman

Short Cuts: Five Victorian Marriages

Tom Crewe

Society as a Broadband Network

William Davies

Fifteen days from now

Thomas Jones

In 1348

James Meek

The Yorkists

John Guy

At the Movies: Pasolini’s ‘Teorema’

Michael Wood

Whitehall Spookery

Neal Ascherson

Poem: ‘The Bannisters’

Paul Muldoon

Clarice Lispector

Rivka Galchen

Marius Petipa

Simon Morrison

At the Foundling Museum: ‘Portraying Pregnancy’

Joanne O’Leary

Gordon v. O’Connor

Rupert Thomson

Revism

Joe Dunthorne

Poem: ‘The Reach of the Sea’

Maureen N. McLane

Diary: Where water used to be

Rosa Lyster

Sylvia PlathC.K. Stead
Close
Close

Ten days after I was, you were born.
Heading out past sixty, I’m still hanging on
But you baled out at thirty, telling the world
‘Dying is an art. I do it exceptionally well.’
Now you’re a young poet of deserved fame, I
An ageing one of modest reputation.
From where I sit, cool Daddy looks at you.
He sees the pain, and the brat – and the brat in pain.
Living is an art. He does it as well as he can.

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