In the latest issue:

In Quarantine

Erin Maglaque

Après Brexit

Ferdinand Mount

Short Cuts: Springtime for Donald

David Bromwich

Meetings with their Gods

Claire Hall

‘Generation Left’

William Davies

At the North Miami Museum: Alice Paalen Rahon

Mary Ann Caws

Buchan’s Banter

Christopher Tayler

‘American Dirt’

Christian Lorentzen

Fiction and the Age of Lies

Colin Burrow

In Lahore

Tariq Ali


James Lasdun

Rereading Bowen

Tessa Hadley

At the Corner House

Rosemary Hill

William Gibson

Thomas Jones

Poem: ‘Murph & Me’

August Kleinzahler

The Stud File

Kevin Brazil

John Boorman’s Quiet Ending

David Thomson

In Shanghai: The West Bund Museum

John-Paul Stonard

Diary: The Deborah Orr I Knew

Jenny Turner



Were you surprised to learn
that you could swap
an ‘i’ for an eye,
and ‘a’ for an apple?

That’s the lure.

Later, you may
want to pray.


You may be left
to think your way
from moment to moment

without being told
what a moment is,

if it’s something solid.


The mad hear language
speak itself
and are humble before it.

They receive instruction.


The child in her crib
turns her head restlessly,
says, ‘aaah, aaah’
like an engine left running.


They change arsenate
to arsenite
and back. They


To capitulate
is to give in;

to recapitulate
is to repeat
in brief.


Fuchsia shadow;
dangling beads.

is my



They pass one
between them:

‘Take and eat.’

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