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

Indefinite Lent

Thomas Jones

In 1348

James Meek

The House of York

John Guy

At the Movies: Pasolini’s ‘Teorema’

Michael Wood

Secrets are like sex

Neal Ascherson

Poem: ‘The Bannisters’

Paul Muldoon

Clarice Lispector

Rivka Galchen

Marius Petipa

Simon Morrison

At the Foundling Museum: ‘Portraying Pregnancy’

Joanne O’Leary

Caroline Gordon v. Flannery O’Connor

Rupert Thomson

Revism

Joe Dunthorne

Poem: ‘The Reach of the Sea’

Maureen N. McLane

Diary: Where water used to be

Rosa Lyster

How to set up an ICU

Lana Spawls

Close
Close

after the Gaelic of the ‘Carmina Gadelica’

Monday at 6 a.m.
I heard a lamb,

And then, while I sat by,
A snipe’s kid-cry.

I saw the cuckoo, grey as slate
Before I ate.

On Tuesday, late,
A slimy flagstone shone
Where snails had gone,

And the wheatear, like
Ash off a dyke,

Flapped where the old mare’s black
Foal stumbled and turned its back.

I sensed right there,
Right then
a right bad year.

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