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Fiction

When life’s hard, time’s a motherfucker going slow

Soham Gupta

Angst

In his photographs and texts, Calcutta-based Soham Gupta forces the tension that arises between fiction and real-life conditions in as yet unseen ways.

Through the grayness of this concrete city, streams of tin-box vehicles flow ahead languidly – and like at a river’s delta, distributaries of little hatchbacks and dented yellow taxis branch off from the main road, spreading in varied directions. From your roof, you can see the whole city, you can feel it’s pulse – yet, there is such a strange silence around you, it’s as if the noise below is far, far away, so far that you are actually longing...

ABO DE FR

Current Texts

Maria Filomena Molder

So many egoists call themselves artists…

Words are human things; a great obscurity saturates them… OPEN
ACCESS DE

Diane Williams

How about some string?

I said “Would you like a rope? You know that haul you have is not secured properly.” ABO DE

Maël Renouard

On Memory Atrophy

How can we remember the way we used to remember? OPEN
ACCESS

Stephen Barber

J.G. Ballard’s self-declared ‘Immodest Proposal’ for a global war-alliance to exact the destruction of America demonstrates the provocatory zeal of his last fiction plans, as well as their enduring prescience. OPEN
ACCESS DE

Current Texts

Kim Gordon

It was another 75° day in LA.

Where do you go when you disappear?

OPEN
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Current Texts

Pierre Guyotat

The matrix for »Tombeau pour cinq cent mille soldats«

“This text was written at the end of 1962, after my return from Algeria. For me the text is the matrix for Tombeau pour cinq cent mille soldats.” P.G.

OPEN
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war experience
war

Magazine Online

Autofiction—Metafiction

Monograph

Hypothesen über die Herkunft des Pseudonyms

Salini (zu Patricia): Wer hat dieses Buch geschrieben?

Georges Perec

»53 Tage«

Monograph

»Die vielleicht faszinierendste Autobiographie des 20. Jahrhunderts«

Mit der Neuauflage dieser seit langem vergriffenen fiktiven Autobiographie wird eines der eindrücklichsten Werke Perecs endlich wieder der deutschsprachigen Leserschaft zugänglich. In dieser meisterlichen und verstörenden Erzählung verdichten sich Perecs Kindheitsphantasien von der utopischen Insel W, auf der das ganze Leben dem Sport gewidmet ist, mit den Erinnerungen an den...

Georges Perec

W oder die Kindheitserinnerung

Monograph

»Es gibt nichts zu erzählen!«

»›Es gibt nichts zu erzählen‹, sagte meine Mutter, und es ist dieses Nichts, an dem ich mich abarbeite.«

Chantal Akerman

Meine Mutter lacht

Monograph

»Die am weitesten zurückliegende Vergangenheit hat die größte Sprengkraft. Jede intensive Erinnerung grenzt an Gewalt.«

»Wenn man ein Buch öffnet, weiß man nicht, wohin man geht. Man lässt sich führen in Zeiten, an Orte, zu Gefühlen, mit denen man sich sonst nicht ohne weiteres eingelassen hätte. Überhaupt sind unsere Leben Irrpfade, die wir auf verschiedene Weisen rekapitulieren – je nachdem, zu welcher Zeit und mit...

Pascal Quignard

Die wandernden Schatten

Topics

Halluzinatorische Chroniken New Yorks
Reportagen, Fiktionen, Wirklichkeiten der Hauptstadt des 20. Jahrhunderts
- reportage
- USA
- atomic age
- New York
- noir fiction

Current Texts

Tom McCarthy

Ecstasy of inauthenticity

The ironic self-awareness of the poet can only be that of his own inauthenticity, repeated or fed back into itself at increasingly conscious levels, and ‘to know inauthenticity is not the same as to be authentic’.

The question of authenticity and I go back some way; we’re old sparring partners – frenemies. It’s been a fraught relationship, shot through with paradox and misconstruing. My first novel, Remainder, does turn around its protagonist’s obsession with becoming ‘real’, inhabiting his era or his city, building, skin, movements and gestures in a ‘first-hand’ or ‘authentic’ way, an obsession which he carries to the point of murder. Yet the pleasure of seeing this book receiving glowing press reviews that praised it for its ‘originality’ and ‘true’-ness was tinged with an awareness of something being odd or ‘off’, since Remainder is in fact the most un-original of novels, a novel about non-originality and simulacra that’s quite blatantly composed of set tropes and constructed situations reprised and, only slightly modified, replayed from sources ranging from Ballard’s Crash and Beckett’s Godot back to Sterne’s Tristram Shandy (Uncle Toby’s domestic re-stagings of battle terrains)...

ABO DE

psychoanalysis
identity
Jacques Lacan
contemporary literature

Current Texts

Bruce Bégout

The limp, voluptuous decadence of the place

I’m not going to talk about my profession here.

ABO FR DE

contemporary literature
urbanism
Venice
avant-garde
short stories
obsession

Current Texts

Stephen Barber

Twenty-four hours in state of unconsciousness

Now this spectral city will become the site for execrations and lamentations, now time itself will disintegrate and void itself… ABO

A. L. Kennedy

When it all burns you’ll know – a writer was there at the first… ABO DE FR

Dodie Bellamy

A stupid tweet by a nobody, meant as a parody, somehow goes viral and the internet offers up death threats. OPEN
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Dietmar Dath

Do you want to believe in language?

The index calculates everything. Announcements of awards, mostly false, light up then die. His dopamine balance feeds the list. Limbic structures support it. Brain means house, should have windows. OPEN
ACCESS DE

Books

Marion Muller-Colard, Clémence Pollet: Hannah Arendt's Little Theater

Antonin Artaud, Stephen Barber (ed.): Artaud the Mômo

Donatien Mary, Ronan de Calan: The Ghost of Karl Marx

Artaud’s Last Unpublished Work

Antonin Artaud, Stephen Barber (ed.)

Watchfiends and Rack Screams

Antonin Artaud’s last large-scale work, published in its complete form in English for the first time. Foreword by John Zorn.

I had a dream last night, scrambled, yes indeed, for a scrambled dream it sure was scrambled. But so meaningful on the other hand, so meaningful. Jean Dequeker was dragging himself along the earth with short and truncated legs, and he said: Am I a beast, a pebble, a branch or a meat stall? But after all what is a tree? What is a tree? Madame Dequeker was behind a cage with her stomach pressed against the flange of this...