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Izabella Scott

IZABELLA SCOTT is an editor at The White Review.



Articles Available Online


Shola von Reinhold’s ‘LOTE’

Book Review

September 2020

Izabella Scott

Book Review

September 2020

To read Shola von Reinhold’s ornate, multi-layered novel LOTE (2020) is to encounter a baroque mind. It tells the story of a queer Black...

Art Review

November 2019

Actually, the Dead are Not Dead

Izabella Scott

Art Review

November 2019

During Bergen Assembly’s opening days, I am asked to attend a number of mock funerals, including one for a...

Jamie sat alone at the edge of the dance floor and wondered how long it would be until Nigel arrived The band had been upping the tempo as the night wore on, keeping pace with the room’s rising alcohol level, and even the dance-shy souls were shaking their limbs by the speakers Jamie closed his eyes and the room pulled into focus To the left, his uncle was regurgitating insights from the morning’s sports pages; Tom, one of his distant relations, was attempting to seduce a girl with jokes about statutory rape; and somewhere near the bar his sister was giggling uncontrollably A throat was cleared in front of him, and he opened his eyes   There, wearing the same old double-breasted suit as always, was Nigel Jamie looked up at his shapeless face, with its doughy peaks and sallow creases His skin was so speckled and drawn it looked photocopied   ‘Hullo James,’ said Nigel A half-chewed canapé churned in his parted lips ‘Good spread’ He flicked a tartlet into his mouth and glanced at the low tables ‘Nice venue’   ‘It’s alright,’ Jamie said He glanced at his watch Nigel had said he would arrive before midnight   ‘The band are pretty good’ Nigel’s knee began to jostle in time with the snare ‘That’s real music, that Course you’re in to all that mindless drug music Umph umph umph Mind if I sit down? I’ll just take that chair Or is it a stool? I never can tell with this modern shit’ Nigel slumped down with a sigh ‘Been chasing the girls much? I’d say you’re not prohibitively ugly’   ‘So where are we going?’ Jamie asked   ‘Who said I was taking you anywhere?’   ‘I just…,’ Jamie began, looking puzzled ‘You want to talk? No weirdness?’   ‘An honest-to-goodness chat Is that too much to ask?’   Earlier that year, without ceremony, Jamie had passed into his twentieth year, but when he frowned he looked double that age His forehead bunched at the bridge of his nose, and there was weariness in the downturned mouth ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you something,’ he said ‘About the presents’ He saw the shrouded heaps

Contributor

September 2015

Izabella Scott

Contributor

September 2015

IZABELLA SCOTT is an editor at The White Review.

Book Review

August 2019

Jordy Rosenberg’s ‘Confessions of the Fox’

Izabella Scott

Book Review

August 2019

It’s hot as fuck, said the friend who handed me Confessions of the Fox, a faux-memoir set in eighteenth-century...

Navine G. Khan-Dossos, Echo Chamber

Art Review

November 2017

Izabella Scott

Art Review

November 2017

A lattice of diamonds and crosses, painted onto a 21-metre long wall at the Van Abbemuseum in Eindhoven, scatters my gaze. Artist Navine G....
Hot Rocks

feature

November 2016

Izabella Scott

feature

November 2016

‘We have received around 150 of them,’ Massimo Osanna tells me, as we peer into four small crates stuffed full of dusty freezer bags....
False shadows

Art

August 2016

Izabella Scott

Art

August 2016

The ‘beautiful disorder’ of the Forbidden City and the Yuanmingyuan (Garden of Perfection and Light) was first noted by the Jesuit painter Jean Denis...

READ NEXT

feature

December 2013

The Horror of Philosophy

Houman Harouni

feature

December 2013

An article published in this same venue opens with a grievance: ‘We lack the philosophers that we require for...

Interview

Issue No. 11

Interview with Philippe Parreno

Ben Eastham

Interview

Issue No. 11

It is the standard procedure, when visiting someone in central Paris, to ask in advance for the door code...

fiction

Issue No. 17

Boom Boom

Clemens Meyer

TR. Katy Derbyshire

fiction

Issue No. 17

You’re flat on your back on the street. And you thought the nineties were over.   And they nearly...

 

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