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Sophie Mackintosh
Sophie Mackintosh's fiction has appeared in Granta and The Stinging Fly, among others. She was the winner of the 2016 White Review Short Story Prize and the Virago X Stylist short story prize. Her debut novel, The Water Cure, is published by Hamish Hamilton in the UK and forthcoming from Doubleday in the US.

Articles Available Online


Lena Andersson's ‘Acts of Infidelity’

Book Review

July 2018

Sophie Mackintosh

Book Review

July 2018

Acts of Infidelity is the second novel by Lena Andersson that follows unlucky-in-love heroine Ester Nilsson, and it’s another scalpel-sharp look at a doomed...

Fiction

May 2018

Self-Improvement

Sophie Mackintosh

Fiction

May 2018

I had been sent back from the city in disgrace, back to my parents’ house in the country. It...

A sparkling frost-clear landscape exists between them under a soft and smudged sky Irises exist, blue and yellow, and those that wither in a hurry Tufted grass and quaking grass exist and the night-blue sloe berry that pulls sour coldness into the face and frosts over the teeth Muddy water and clear springs exist; language that captivates and shoves aside exist, words that beg for mercy, make demands, that regret and apologise, shove aside and once again captivate   A light that uncovers everything exists Darkness exists   And they have been through it all, from one end to the other, over and over again While years replace years and lay new tracks in their handwriting, in their bodies’ falling lines   *   Now she’s lying in bed She’s sleeping The hotel room is grimy and worn, and outside: the city, traffic, a surge of movement and sound At last they’ve met, God would’ve sworn it was impossible after all this time Their advances, so cautious, at an incredible distance She’s sleeping, still warm from his hands; she’s lying on her stomach, the bony stretch of her spine protruding hard from her skin in the twilight He can’t remember when he last slept and he’s smoking with iron lungs and a coated tongue This is killing me, he thinks   *   ‘Love is so huge that you can only dream about it,’ she said before falling asleep   Perhaps she was already asleep   But once in awhile it happens It succeeded an hour ago, when Prague disappeared in the sound of the tremendous passion that gushed from their throats, a choral masterpiece, so tender and brutal A sacred place and a spellbinding music Now reverberating between them   He lights another lousy Czech cigarette, trying to get the feeling out of his chest: that this might last forever   She, lying on the sheets, he, leaning against the wall, naked for each other, all the way to the bones   It’s taken a long time, and he had sworn it was impossible That he would let someone in where he himself doesn’t know what’s there; that someone like her would open up to him,

Contributor

April 2016

Sophie Mackintosh

Contributor

April 2016

Sophie Mackintosh’s fiction has appeared in Granta and The Stinging Fly, among others. She was the winner of the...

Grace

Prize Entry

Issue No. 17

Sophie Mackintosh

Prize Entry

Issue No. 17

14. It comes for me in the middle of the day when I am preparing lunch, quartering a tomato then slicing each segment in...

READ NEXT

Prize Entry

April 2016

DATE NIGHT

Chris Newlove Horton

Prize Entry

April 2016

He said, ‘Tell me about yourself.’ He said, ‘Tell me about you.’ He said, ‘Tell me everything. I’m interested.’...

Art

March 2013

Strangely Ordinary: Ron Mueck's art of the uncanny

Anouchka Grose

Art

March 2013

Since the Stone Age, people have been concerned with the problem of how to represent life.   Cave paintings...

Art

August 2016

False shadows

Izabella Scott

Art

August 2016

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

 

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