‘The only real universals are that we all live – and, of course, we all must die.’
Sometime over the winter of 2010–11 I began to be gorged with blood – or, rather, my blood itself began to be gorged with red blood cells, with haemoglobin. I didn’t pay it much attention – mostly because I didn’t realize it was happening, the only perceptible symptoms being a certain livi…
Nothing to see here!
What made him do what he did? Could it have all been for an ice cream bar, really? Will any of us ever know?
What made him do what he did? Could it have all been for an ice cream bar, really? Will any of us ever know?
What made him do what he did? Could it have all been for an ice cream bar, really? Will any of us ever know?
What made him do what he did? Could it have all been for an ice cream bar, really? Will any of us ever know? What made him do what he did? Could it have all been for an ice cream bar, really? Will any of us ever know?
Striking the keys of the same typewriter that once sat under J.G. Ballard’s fingers, Will Self reimagines the legendary writer’s last days.
[Will Self and Mark Doty's] ‘discussion with Granta publisher Sigrid Rausing about blood, the surprising relationship between Bram Stoker and Walt Whitman and the nature of addiction.’
‘When I picture my childhood, it’s like I’m swimming underwater.’ Merethe Lindstrøm’s story is translated from the Norwegian by Marta Eidsvåg, and is the winner of Harvill Secker’s Young Translators’ Prize 2016.
