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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...

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....

We are little critters who live in the black earth beneath the desert The people on Mother Earth can’t imagine such a large expanse of fertile humus lying dozens of meters beneath the boundless desert Our race has lived here for generations We have neither eyes nor any olfactory sense In this large nursery, such apparatus is useless Our lives are simple, for we merely use our long beaks to dig the earth, eat the nutritious soil, and then excrete it We live in happiness and harmony because we have abundant resources in our home town Thus, we can all eat our fill without a dispute arising At any rate, I’ve never heard of one In our spare time, we congregate to recall anecdotes of our forebears We begin by remembering the oldest of our ancestors and then run through the others The remembrances are pleasurable, filled with outlandish salty and sweet flavours, as well as some crispy amber – the immemorial turpentine In our recollections, there is a blank passage that is difficult to describe Broadly speaking, as one of our elders (the one with the longest beak) was digging the earth, he suddenly crossed the dividing line and vanished in the desert above He never returned to us Whenever we remembered this, we fell silent I sensed that everyone was afraid   Even though people never descended to our underground, we actually gained all kinds of information about the mortals above us I don’t know what sort of channel this information came from It is said that it was very mysterious, and that it had something to do with our builds I’m an average-sized, ordinary individual of my genus Like everyone else, I dig the earth every day and excrete Recalling our ancestors is the greatest pleasure in my life But when I sleep, I have some odd dreams I dream of seeing people; I dream of seeing the sky above Human beings are good at movement They feel bumpy to the touch I’m extremely jealous of their well-developed limbs, because our limbs have atrophied underground We all move

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 2011

The Moon over Timna

Rikudah Potash

TR. Michael Casper

poetry

September 2011

In a copper house Lived the new moon, The new moon Of Timna. In a copper coat With a...

fiction

March 2015

House Proud

Amelia Gray

fiction

March 2015

It’s harder to leave your burning home after you’ve spent so much time cleaning its floors. Watching those baseboards...

Interview

September 2015

Interview with Patrick deWitt

Anthony Cummins

Interview

September 2015

Patrick deWitt’s new novel, Undermajordomo Minor, tells the story of Lucy, a bungling young man hired to assist a...

 

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