True crime. Popular since Cain brained Abel. So let’s make room for the genre and its tensions and its foibles. Let’s talk about two dramas. One serialised on Netflix. The other in The New Yorker, 60 years prior. Richard Gadd spilt his guts Baby Reindeer was mandatory viewing in 2024. Richard Gadd played himself, reliving …
What are you doing hitting marks,reciting lines, after cremation?Grandfather —you surprise me,appearing like this. Preceding scenes planted youdeep beneath roses,arrested while pruning —soily handprint on vest.The episode passedwithout laugh trackor revival — Justreaction,silence,credits, death.Yet, here you are. Here you are — corrected in fiction:cast as a salaryman, set and shot in Japan. How irresponsible,I think, …
Remember Raiders of The Lost Ark? The Ark of the Covenant goes into a crate. A hammer slams, driving a nail. The lid fits tight, wood on wood, hiding the Ark from view. Anonymous hands snap on a padlock and a government employee (flat cap and flat expression) guides the crate along the gangway. The …
Amber! Amber!It is all amber. The wood of the barVarnished with sunlight:Amber! The porter rolling in my Glass like syrup:Amber! The eyes all around,Blue, green and brown:Amber! Call them amber!They’re warm enough,For we are wracked — Caught in hiccupped laughter,Creased. Seeping to our edges, Happiness has drenched us.May it be forever Thus.
Angel raises my gaze.Angel nudges my chinSkywards to be struck. Angel caresses my cornea, Lit with pale fire thatMakes me splendid. “Hold the book so I can see,So wisdom billows In my hollows.” “Let me sign andSneak the ending, Apparition.” “Holy smokes!”
I’m back from the theatre The play ended with a girl leading her father beyond the city walls. The girl was Electra. The man, Oedipus. The city, Thebes. Perhaps those names strike dissonant cords of memory. As they exited the tragedy, the outcast king questioned whether his people were at peace. He’d put out his …
Has anyone ever tried to convince you to write like Dante? Probably not, because who writes poetry anymore?* Modern pen-pushers are busy with blogs, emails and social posts. But we should remember the medieval poet Dante Alighieri. (And not just because it’s Valentine’s Day and he was drippingly romantic.) We should remember him for his …
Authors are great exaggerators I realised that while hammering out an essay on Jules Verne. Verne conceived of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea after seeing a submarine — well, a model of one — at the world fair. So a machine that took passengers under water existed in 1867. Verne’s innovation was making the …
Are you sure, Monsieur Verne? The way scientists and writers interact — I’ve seen it described as a codependency. Authors take inspiration from science. Their stories expand what readers can imagine. Those readers include scientists who engage with experimental ideas. They pull on pristine lab coats and test whether fictions could enter reality. That’s how …
The unease starts with the title Yellowface winks obscenely from bookstore shelves. It stimulates. It sets the machinery of the mind in motion… and then jams its gears. The reader gets the term is racially charged. Recalls ‘Blackface’ – yep, that’s a thing. Thinks of Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. But that’s about all …
