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Fiction

All that pent up terror and rage

Dodie Bellamy

Plague Widow

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

Driving to the Castro, Bee Reaved feels hyper emotional, as she often does in the car, Nick Cave’s Ghosteen on repeat, and she thinks—this is what it’s like to live without hope. Six months after Kevin’s death, friends left her to fare for herself. Other widows warned her this would happen, that everybody would disappear before she was ready. One widow she no longer talks to said, “Wait and see, you’re going to have a total breakdown.” Now, with the...

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A. L. Kennedy

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

Maël Renouard

On Memory Atrophy

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

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

Soham Gupta

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. ABO DE FR

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Kim Gordon

It was another 75° day in LA.

Where do you go when you disappear?

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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.

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war experience
war

Magazine Online

Autofiction—Metafiction

Monograph

Born too late to see the war, too soon to forget it.

Why this past? Why is this past mine? A past which I did not even know?

Reiner Schürmann

Origins

Monograph

Eis

Ich hatte mich verfahren, es dämmerte bereits…

Anna Kavan

Eis

Monograph

Was? Wer? Wann? Wo? Wie? Warum?

Dass das Autobiographische als Schlüssel zu Perecs gesamtem Werk zu lesen ist, zeigt dieser Band. Er umfasst zehn autobiographische Versatzstücke aus den Jahren 1959 bis 1981 – von den Umständen der eigenen Geburt (»Ich bin geboren«) über eine Skizze zur Gedächtnisarbeit oder eine Vorfassung seines Ellis-Island-Projekts bis hin zur Aufzählung...

Georges Perec

Geboren 1936

Monograph

Meine Mutter lacht

Ich bereite mich auf ihren Tod vor. Wie machst du das, fragt jemand. Ich versuche, mir mich ohne sie vorzustellen. Und ich denke, das wird gehen. Nicht für sie. Für mich. Oder das Gegenteil. Aber anscheinend kann man sich nicht wirklich vorbereiten, also vergeude ich meine Zeit. Sie hat schreckliche Lebenslust. Und du? Ich...

Chantal Akerman

Meine Mutter lacht

Topics

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

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Johannes Binotto

Language can never be private

Where words are uttered, the taming is shrewed.

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theatre / drama
language
subjectification
gender
feminism
Shakespeare

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Angelika Meier

Your story begins with a tunnel.

The lost cause is the only one worth fighting for.

I’m standing in my perfectly fitting uniform with its freshly-pressed swastika armband in a long line at an American office. I’m waiting to submit my Application for Total War. Then, after standing in line for hours, the friendly clerk tells me that I need The Application for Foreign Aggressions in the next office over. Since I’m a depressed fascist, I don’t keep my chin up for long—despite my spiffy brown uniform—so I decide that’s enough for today and to try again tomorrow. The very next morning, I’m valiantly standing in the correct line, but then I’m missing some paperwork for the correct submission of my Application for Total War. Besides a birth certificate (the original, no copies allowed!), I’m still missing two recommendation letters from American citizens. Five are necessary. But—I thought just three… No, five in total! With a smile, the clerk raises her right hand, her fingers spread...

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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
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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

Maria Filomena Molder

So many egoists call themselves artists…

Words are human things; a great obscurity saturates them… OPEN
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Raphaëlle Milone

Old-school publisher, avant-garde dandy, undisputed expert on the global history of Dada: Raphaëlle Milone paints an intimate but unsparing portrait of a man who belonged perhaps to a dying breed but is still remembered vividly. ABO FR

Books

Gleb J. Albert (ed.), Nikolaj Evreinov, ...: The Steps of Nemesis

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

Yan Marchand, Vincent Sorel: Diogenes the Dog-Man

Antonin Artaud, Stephen Barber (ed.): The Human Face and Other Writings on His Drawings

Matthias Arégui, Yan Marchand: Martin Heidegger's Grouch

Tom McCarthy: Recessional—Or, the Time of the Hammer

“Obsessed with buffering”

Tom McCarthy

Recessional—Or, the Time of the Hammer

Towards the end of Thomas Pynchon’s mammoth 1973 novel Gravity’s Rainbow, the stumbling ingénue of a hero Tyrone Slothrop sets off on a commando raid. The territory he and his cohorts move through is a giant metropolis, a “factory-state” in which capital, technology and power, perfectly co-calibrated, send airships drifting through urban canyons, past chrome caryatids and roof-gardens on skyscrapers that themselves shoot up and down on elevator-cables: a conurbation Pynchon calls the “City of the Future” or “Raketen-Stadt.” The...

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