‘Poetry is nothing if not the record of just how the forces of the Universe try to redress some balance disturbed by human error.’
From 1971, an interview with Ted Hughes.
Archive | Children of the Earth by Henry Miller
‘What about the fate of our children … is there nothing to be done for them?’
This essay by Henry Miller was originally published in the July 1959 edition of The London Magazine.
Archive | Verandah by Derek Walcott
‘the sunset furled / round the last post, // ‘the flamingo colours’ of a fading world, / a ghost steps from you, my grandfather’s ghost!’
From 1965, poetry by Derek Walcott.
Archive | There is No Forgetfulness (Sonata) by Pablo Neruda
‘If you ask me where I come from I have to start talking with broken objects, / with kitchenware that has too much bitterness, / with animals quite often rotten, / and with my heavy soul.’
From 1965, poetry by Pablo Neruda.
Archive | From Realism to Reality by Alain Robbe-Grillet
‘To explain meanings that are already known goes against the most important demand of literature.’
From 1965, an essay on realism by Alain Robbe-Grillet (trans. Barbara Wright).
Archive | Acts of Contrition by Michael Donaghy
‘I could be anyone you want me to be. / I might come round to your point of view.’
From 1994, poetry by Michael Donaghy.
Archive | Poetry, Sold Out by Hugo Williams
‘Poetry on the grand scale, poetry in the raw, poetry on the attack, but best of all, Beat Poetry in the Albert Hall.’
From 1965, Hugo Williams reviews Poetry Incarnation at the Royal Albert Hall.
Archive | An Interview with Susan Sontag
‘Writing is such an un-natural activity that one has to keep in practice, like sport, or playing a musical instrument.’
From 1979, an interview with Susan Sontag.
Archive | Ascension Day 1964 by W. H. Auden
‘We must / Go through the ritual / Formulæ of farewell, // The words, the looks, / The embraces, knowing / That this time they are final.’
From 1964, a poem by W. H. Auden.
Archive | In the Shadow of War by Ben Okri
‘When he looked at the canoes again they had changed into the shapes of swollen dead animals.’
From 1988, short fiction by Booker-prize winner, Ben Okri.
Archive | Don Quixote on a Bicycle: In Memoriam, George Orwell
‘He loved good bad poets. Knew nothing about painting, but knew that he knew nothing. Listened as much as he talked. Was incapable of playing to the gallery. Could tell a joke against himself.’
From 1957, George Orwell’s friend, Paul Potts, pays tribute to the novelist and essayist.
Archive | Bob Dylan on Tour by Angela Carter
‘He has become a prophet of chaos and those who once accepted him as a blue-denim Messiah of a Brotherhood future once the times had changed may sense a personal betrayal.’
In 1966, Angela Carter reviewed Bob Dylan’s World Tour.
Archive | You Name It by Nadine Gordimer
‘At this time my husband had taken it upon himself to send for his mother to supervise the children and the atmosphere in the house was one of blinding, deafening, obsessive antagonism.’
Short fiction by Nadine Gordimer.
Archive | A Message from T. S. Eliot
‘Readers must be encouraged to read books, not merely to talk about books they have not read.’
A message from T. S. Eliot, from the February 1954 edition of The London Magazine.
Archive | Texts for Nothing: VI by Samuel Beckett
‘Words can be blotted and the mad thoughts they invent, all you have to do is say you said nothing and so say nothing again.’
Samuel Beckett in the August 1967 edition of The London Magazine.
Archive | Poem by John Betjeman
‘Is he too ill to know that he is dying? / And, if he does know, does he really care?’
A poem by John Betjeman, from the May 1957 issue of The London Magazine.
Archive | Reflections by Louis MacNeice
‘I look in the mirror at night / And see two rooms’
This poem by Louis MacNeice originally appeared in the May 1960 edition of The London Magazine.
Archive | The Recreation Ground by Graham Swift
‘Father killed her. Not with the knife, no, nor with the pistol, nor even with the blunt instrument. It was the old weapon – hatred.’
Short fiction by Graham Swift.
Archive | Raymond Chandler by Ian Fleming
‘In the end, said Chandler, as one grew older, one grew out of gangsters and blondes and guns and, since they were the chief ingredients of thrillers, short of space fiction, that was that.’
Ian Fleming recounts his friendship with Raymond Chandler.
Archive | Heresies by Deborah Levy
‘What purpose does realism serve? … I asked … Are images of starving children, beaten workers, brutal factory owners … realistic? Myself, I think they’re absurd.’
Short fiction by Deborah Levy.
Archive | Letter in November by Sylvia Plath
‘I love them. / I love them like history.’
This poem by Sylvia Plath originally appeared in the April 1963 edition of The London Magazine, alongside six other poems of hers.
Archive | Blacamán the Good Miracle Seller by Gabriel GarcÃa Márquez
‘In those days I had no powers against death, so I simply lay down in the least painful position to await it, while he sank into a delirium about a woman so lovely that she could pass through walls with a sigh.’
Short fiction by Gabriel GarcÃa Márquez.
Archive | The Mother of the Child in Question by Doris Lessing
‘A rich and various lunacy inspired the human race and you could almost say the greater part of his work was dealing with this lunacy.’
Short fiction by Doris Lessing.
Archive | Some Notes on Writing Stories by Brian Glanville, Elizabeth Taylor and more
‘I feel that the only tip I would have to give to young short story writers is not to ask too many questions. Henry James said that we could be told too much. He feared that.’
A series of meditations on writing short stories by Brian Glanville, Elizabeth Taylor, Jonathan Raban and more.