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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....

October 12, 1976, Soho, London Andy stood in the alley outside the Prince of Wales He felt in the pocket of his leather jacket and found most of a sheet of orange sunshine Andy couldn’t remember putting it there He couldn’t remember how he got to the cinema from the squat in Stoke Newington But he knew that it was morning, that he was in a crowd of people, some heavy, heavy people, some lightweights, old freaks, young punks, odd straights, and that Fantasia was about to start inside Andy balled the blotter in his hand and quickly stuffed it in his mouth He gagged but kept chewing until it was gone He turned and gestured to a wrinkly geezer wearing a tartan scarf but no shirt who was seated on a blackened sheet of cardboard in front of the fire exit The man held up a can of bitter Andy bolted a swig and handed it back ‘Ta very much’, said one, ‘Nae bother’, said the other A short time later Andy was sat in the dark amid zoo noises, crying and slurping, and that is when the lights began   April 13, 1972, Blackpool Andy opened the front door and dropped two plastic bags at the foot of the stairs: one with his schoolwork, the other with his PE kit in He went into the kitchen, turned off the radio, took a bowl from the draining board, opened a cupboard door and took out a packet of Weetabix Andy put two biscuits into the bowl, hesitated, and took one out, placing it back in the packet He opened the fridge, which was empty except for a withered scallion and a dried piece of cheese Andy returned the remaining Weetabix biscuit to the packet, folded it neatly down and put it back in the cupboard He washed the bowl and placed it on the draining board Andy went into the living room, sat down and stared into the empty fireplace   January 5, 1990, Liverpool Andy kneeled on the wooden floor, naked and sobbing, snot roping out of his nose and down

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

poetry

September 2012

Mainline Rail

Eleanor Rees

poetry

September 2012

Back-to-backs, some of the last, and always just below the view   a sunken tide of regular sound west...

feature

Issue No. 12

Foreword: A Pound of Flesh

George Szirtes

feature

Issue No. 12

1.   ANALOGIES FOR TRANSLATION ARE MANY, most of them assuming a definable something on one side of the...

fiction

January 2015

Shishosetsu...

Minae Mizumura

TR. Juliet Winters Carpenter

fiction

January 2015

This is an excerpt from the novel published in Japanese as Shishosetsu from left to right (私小説 from left...

 

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