“If writers anywhere have been tasked with documenting the non-existence of the places they live their lives, then it has been the writers of Central Europe.” Michael Stein introduces our feature on contemporary writing from Central Europe.
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“…after a while the pictures started climbing off the walls of the exhibition room and stretched until they had as many dimensions as they needed. Four, because they didn’t want to live for ever.” By Zsuzsa Selyem, translated from Hungarian by Erika Mihálycsa.
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“An enchanting place, these Czech lands of mine… they combine Catholicism and Communism in the most degenerate way possible.” By Jáchym Topol, translated from Czech by Marek Tomin.
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Features Editor Maria Amir writes of the silent battles being waged between art and soul
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“…all the boys gathered in a room,/ unsettlingly quiet, half-asleep, making jets with homework-/ paper…”
By Vladimir Lucien.
“She sits in an old people’s home/ thinking of feathers: how one/ should hold them lightly; how they fly…”
By Esther Phillips.
“Evenings, on the way from primary school,/ I saw her, dressed in cowgirl boots and cutoffs,/ blouse opened on a barstool outside The Cool Spot…” By Ishion Hutchinson.
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“I learned I would die/ someday, and the fast car will get you there/ long before death…”
By Kwame Dawes.
Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert on the poetry of Phyllis Shand Allfrey in a special essay from our 12th issue.
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“a prayer for the cedar balls/ that break when you touch them and stain/ your fingers yellow, that release from their tiny bellies/ the smell of old churches…” By Kei Miller.
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