Inner Rivers
I do not know how to shed my childhood, this old snake’s skin. My childhood weighs on my bones and hinders all my movements.
Europe Folio
Dispatches From Lesvos
By Mark Adams
I am at the meeting point at the jetty by Mytilini Harbor just after 8 am. A lone slender bearded figure sits and smokes by the quai (he is H___ the barber, I learn later). Instead of approaching I retreat to dash off a sketch of the harbor mouth and a little coast guard tug against the rising terrain.
Found Fairy Tales: On the Art of Joanna Concejo
By Jiwone Lee
A pencil. A piece of wood encasing a graphite core that can draw in a thousand hues of grey and black. The memory of the first attempt at writing, the hardness of the wood between uncertain fingers, the exertion of small force on the paper and finally, carefully drawn marks of different thicknesses and angles. Joanna Concejo’s many works evoke this forgotten memory of our graphite past.
“Thermal Gestures:” A Review of W.S. Graham, NYRB Poets Series
By Leah Xue
Graham is not a poet of language so much a poet of mark and gesture. His fundamental unit of work is not the word but the expressive stroke. That is to say: he’s just another Cornish Expressionist, like his friends.
A Giddy Lurch into Chaos: China Mieville on Brexit, Writing Books as Video Games, and Lachrymose Europhilia
At the time of the discussion, the tenor of the mainstream pro-Remain discourse – with honourable and important exceptions, most of which were and are clear-sightedly and with a heavy heart more anti-anti-Remain than pro–was to my mind at a particularly politically and tactically dunderheaded pitch, and this is reflected in my remarks. I stand by this critique.
