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Jonathan Gibbs

Jonathan Gibbs was shortlisted for the White Review Short Story Prize 2013. He has since published a novel, Randall or the Painted Grape (Galley Beggar Press).



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Jessie Greengrass’s ‘Sight’

Book Review

February 2018

Jonathan Gibbs

Book Review

February 2018

Jessie Greengrass’s debut story collection caught my eye with its delightfully extravagant title, An Account of the Decline of the Great Auk, According to...

feature

May 2016

Cinema on the Page

Jonathan Gibbs

feature

May 2016

Film is a bully. It wants to make its viewers feel, and it has the tools to do so....

They seek out the confused, the timid, the lazy   Are you still feeling frightened? they ask, mock concern on their faces After all this time? Really! How can that be?   Get a grip, they cry If only you could just make up your mind! This indecision can’t go on forever, you know   Channel that introspection into strategy, is our advice Your goals will be your stepping stones to greatness   There’s no room for uncertainty now Just pick an objective Follow the necessary path to realise your ambition We will be here to guide you   The lost ones scour their bedrooms, their cupboards, their gardens, for an idea or a clue: anything that might have weight, have longevity   That? That’s your ambition? You can’t be serious!   The lost ones bow their heads in shame and recognition   *   I cross the city to see my mentor in the area where he lives I have to travel east to west, going past the institute and taking another bus out further still It is an ordeal I once queried this arrangement, but it was not possible to change what we had agreed in the past   Today we are meeting in a park It is an unreal summer day, hazy at the edges so that the appearance of things cannot be trusted I can’t shake the feeling that the children who hang off the climbing frame are fakes The racket of their voices is like a cloud that casts a quick shadow over a garden, appearing near and far away at the same time Their noise seems to waver in the air, like it is unconnected to their bodies, a time delay between the movement of their mouths and the release of their garbled words The parents who sit on the benches observing, hands spread defensively on their laps, are probably fakes too   The banners don’t help Around the perimeter of the park, they are strung up, sagging in places, showing the warped faces of familiar-looking children and parents, but more attractive, more ecstatic They play tennis, run and hug They laugh, mouths open to show substantial white teeth The foliage they pose in

Contributor

August 2014

Jonathan Gibbs

Contributor

August 2014

Jonathan Gibbs was shortlisted for the White Review Short Story Prize 2013. He has since published a novel, Randall or...

The Story I'm Thinking Of

fiction

April 2013

Jonathan Gibbs

fiction

April 2013

There were seven of us sat around the table. Seven grown adults, sat around the table. It was late. We had eaten, and we had...

READ NEXT

feature

November 2014

The Last Redoubt

Scott Esposito

feature

November 2014

As they say of politics, I have found essay-writing to be the art of the possible. Certain work can...

fiction

November 2016

The Miserablist

Anne Boyer

fiction

November 2016

This vision was strongly nebulous, an indeterminate but bold reaction only because it was so much like one of...

fiction

June 2012

Spinning Days of Night

Susana Medina

fiction

June 2012

Day 1 in the Season before Chaos   These were the days before the glitch. The weather was acutely...

 

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