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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).



Articles Available Online


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...

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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....

  Mark well, O Job, hold thy peace, and I will speak Job 33:31     To deliver man from his neighbours – isn’t that the function of progress?  And what are the joys and calamities of humankind to me?  That’s right – nothing at all  Then why is it that I can’t have any time alone, not even when I’m travelling?   They asked us: Who’s going to Petrozavodsk?  A conference  An international conference  Come on, doctors, someone has to go!  Yes, we know what these conferences are like  A couple of emigrés – that’s the ‘international’ for you  The short bout of drinking, the hotel, the lecture, the long bout of drinking – then back home again  After the lecture, you’re still answering questions, but behind your back, brawny little red-faced men are pointing at their watches – time’s up  These little men are the local professors – in the provinces these days they’re all full professors, the same way that a white man in the American South is either a judge or a colonel   Well then, who’s going to Petrozavodsk?  So I volunteered:  Lake Ladoga?  Alright, why not?   ‘Not Ladoga  Onega’   What’s the difference?  Have you been to Petrozavodsk?  Neither have I       The station is a pretty frightening place  For my own protection I assume the air of a veteran traveller  I walk to the carriage pretending I’m bored, so that it’s immediately obvious I’m no stranger to railway stations – no point trying to rob someone like me   The train from Moscow to Petrozavodsk takes fourteen and a half hours, incidentally  Your fellow travellers are almost invariably a source of unpleasantness: beer and vobla, cheap cognac – ‘Bagration’ and ‘Kutuzov’ – pouring out their hearts one moment, picking a fight the next   The train begins to move  Everything’s okay – for now I’m alone   ‘Tickets please’   ‘Excuse me,’ I ask the conductress, ‘but could we reach some sort of I mean so I can have the compartment to myself?’   She looks at me ‘That depends on what you’re going to do in it’   What is there to do in it?   ‘Read a book’   ‘In that case,

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

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Issue No. 14

Editorial

The Editors

feature

Issue No. 14

Having several issues ago announced that we would no longer be writing our own editorials, the editors’ (ultimately inevitable)...

fiction

March 2016

Red

Madeleine Watts

fiction

March 2016

It was the first week of 1976 and she had just turned 17.   The day school let out...

Art

July 2014

Operation Paperclip

Naomi Pearce

Patrick Goddard

Art

July 2014

‘I began at this point to feel that politics was not something “out there” but something “in here” and of...

 

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