Tom Raymond: One Hand Clapping (Chapter Six)
Redemption Song The hire van was old and unwieldy. Every time we turned a corner, it shook, and bounced. I was in the front, with Julian,...
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ONE HAND CLAPPING
Joseph Scapellato: a story
Company Brother, yesterday I said to you that there were folks to talk to. That these folks, Mom and me, if talked to, would respond with...
Tom Raymond: One Hand Clapping (Chapter Five)
Let's Get It On For six months it was everything I'd ever wanted. Right from the first rehearsal, when Ian hauled his Yamaha in and...
Life Writing Prize 2020: Sue Hann
Palingenesis On the day that I am due to start progesterone injections, in the slow hours before the hated needle, I am standing on the...
Tom Raymond: One Hand Clapping (Chapter Four)
Superstition I liked to try, when I was working, to be a tidy man. It made up for my lack of conversation. My hole-punch and my stapler...
Life Writing Prize 2020: Nicky Watkinson
This is a story about friendship This is a story about friendship. Which is to say, this is a story about how we destroy one another....
Al Alvarez
Photograph by Eamonn McCabe When we published our print edition, Al Alvarez kindly allowed us to use an extract from his book, The...
Tom Raymond: One Hand Clapping (Chapter Three)
Rebel Rebel Julian's bedroom was a box-room overlooking the front lawn. We used to spend a lot of time in there – neither of us had a job...
Life Writing Prize 2020: Josh Holton
Death and Birdwatching Fragments of a eulogy are rattling around my tired head. A thuggish debt collector, an addict, a grave digger, and...
M. L. Martinson: a story
The Elephant in the Room The East El Paso Public House was famous for two things: an oversized disco ball and the world's largest...
Tom Raymond: One Hand Clapping (Chapter Two)
I Never Loved a Man "Sometimes when we touch", I said. I was sagging to one side. I righted myself then swiftly did it again, in the...
Tom Raymond: One Hand Clapping
Prelude Out in the auditorium, they’re selling pictures of Julian. His heart-shaped face is everywhere – on mugs and key rings and on...
Susan Allott: The Silence
London, 1997 In a basement flat in Hackney, the telephone rings. It's two in the morning. Isla Green stands in the hallway, pyjamaed,...
Rebecca Ley: For When I'm Gone
Chapter One Sylvia's Manual It's definitive now, you heard him. "Nothing more we can do", he said, before using words like "comfortable",...
Anton Chekhov: Easter Eve
I was standing on the bank of the River Goltva, waiting for the ferry-boat from the other side. At ordinary times the Goltva is a humble...
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