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Amber Husain

Amber Husain is a writer, academic and publisher. She is currently a managing editor and research fellow at Afterall, Central Saint Martins. Her essays and criticism appear or are forthcoming in 3AM, The Believer, London Review of Books, LA Review of Books, Radical Philosophy and elsewhere. She is the author of Replace Me, to be published by Peninsula Press in November 2021.



Articles Available Online


Slouching Towards Death

Book Review

July 2021

Amber Husain

Book Review

July 2021

In January, a preview excerpt in The New Yorker of Rachel Kushner’s essay collection The Hard Crowd (2021) warned us that this might turn...

Book Review

August 2020

Natasha Stagg’s ‘Sleeveless’

Amber Husain

Book Review

August 2020

‘The thong is centimetres closer to areas of arousal,’ writes Natasha Stagg in Sleeveless: Fashion, Image, Media, New York,...

Another Autumn Journal Chaos (AKA Do Not Put This to Music Because You’re How Fish Put Up a Fight)   I know what it means makes a great first line While you paid by credit card an alien inside burst out of a person Do not consider at least smarter song lyrics My mental health or something like my mental health said you were forlorn online The light of the screen was a poem about looking up at you in the shower while I was beginning to undress to be in the shower with you An egg just fell from the sky and cracked An usher came over to tell me to turn my smartphone off so I paused the movie we were streaming I’m thinking intensify most statements exchanged Yeah an egg just fell from the big grey sky We thought we were going to be late for the ballet I really hope Anonymous doesn’t blow his fucking brains out in the restaurant Anonymous started to sing in the way I used to like a young Benny Hill There were no celebrities present The sky was indigo when I told you I’d been atmospheric as a kid The ballet cast seemed so beautiful in the shower I mean wow Then we said we loved each other We got over this When Anonymous says he loves me I tell him I love him too except he got Anonymous pregnant sometimes My love is sometimes a small bird that’s a bomb You responded by saying that I make you feel like there is no fucking orchestra and then we told your face and mine I said ‘Is there no orchestra?’ You were like ‘Pure No’ We put the most beautiful thing down beneath you because you were menstruating The ballet was non-committal Involuntarily shit I was just staring at my smartphone in an insurmountable poem You said ‘That’s not the point I’m making You always panic when parking the car’ You want to make me sing again but not like a young Benny Hill I laughed like a loon off camera because you told me you hated that neither of us seemed phased by the cool rain, chronic depression or no chronic depression during sex

Contributor

November 2018

Amber Husain

Contributor

November 2018

Amber Husain is a writer, academic and publisher. She is currently a managing editor and research fellow at Afterall,...

On Having No Skin: Nan Goldin’s Sirens

Art Review

January 2020

Amber Husain

Art Review

January 2020

The feeling of drug-induced euphoria could be strips of gauze between beautiful fingers. Or a silver slinky sent down a torso by its own...
In Defence of Dead Women

Essay

November 2018

Amber Husain

Essay

November 2018

The memorial for the artist was as inconclusive as her work, or anybody’s life. Organised haphazardly on Facebook by one of her old friends,...

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poetry

September 2012

Moscow - Petrozavodsk

Maxim Osipov

Anne Marie Jackson

poetry

September 2012

  Mark well, O Job, hold thy peace, and I will speak. Job 33:31     To deliver man...

Interview

March 2016

Interview with Franco 'Bifo' Berardi

Seth Wheeler

Interview

March 2016

Franco ‘Bifo’ Berardi is a renowned theorist of contemporary media, culture and society. He has lectured at the Academia...

fiction

January 2014

Leg over Leg

Ahmad Fāris al-Shidyāq

TR. Humphrey Davies

fiction

January 2014

First published in 1855, Leg over Leg recounts the life, from birth to middle age, of ‘the Fāriyāq,’ alter ego of...

 

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