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Friday poem: all creatures great and small

Friday poem: all creatures great and small

Friday, 24 October 2014

No one can lure us into noticing the natural world the way Jen Hadfield does in this remarkable, hypnotic poem. We’re not just offered a close-up of that tiny, persistent, oldest living whatever in the world, we’re aligned with it – taken down to rock level to participate in the attention it’s paying us. Huge, tiny and symbiotic, her words belong to both plant and human worlds. Like the lichen, they seem to grow from the page that anchors them. Notice how...

Jane Smiley on writing one hundred years of a family's story

Jane Smiley on writing one hundred years of a family's story

Monday, 20 October 2014

Jane Smiley is an American novelist and essayist. She won the Pulitzer Prize in 1992 for A Thousand Acres and since then has been critically acclaimed for books including Horse Heaven and Private Life. Here she is to introduce her latest novel, Some Luck, the first book in The Last Hundred Years Trilogy. Our sister imprint, Mantle, is publishing it in hardback in a couple of weeks, and we'll be publishing the paperback next year. We can't wait!

A Friday poem about coffee

A Friday poem about coffee

Friday, 17 October 2014

I collect poems about tea but I’d gladly make a special exception and add this poem about coffee. I love the way the repeated sounds in the poem intertwine and mirror the bird building a nest... 

Apocaliterary fiction and the Museum of Civilisation

Tuesday, 14 October 2014

The world we live in is a strange one. One full of evil, illness, yet undeniable beauty. It is a world where our elders complain of the younger generation's blunted youth, dumbed down by iPhones, computers and social media; corrupted by gratuitous violence. But in Emily St. John Mandel's novel Station Eleven, amongst many other things, she poses the question: what if we were to lose it all? 

Poetry aloud: 'The woman the boy became'

Monday, 13 October 2014

Born more brawn than most,
Born warm.
Born close to ghosts.
Born storm.

Born old.
Grew young.
You could tell she wasn’t from
The same place as the rest,
Born strong.
Born wrong.

Listen to Kate read the poem in full.

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