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Kate Zambreno
Kate Zambreno is the author most recently of Drifts (Riverhead) and To Write As If Already Dead, a study of Hervé Guibert (Columbia University Press). Forthcoming in Summer 2023 from Riverhead is The Light Room, a meditation on art and care, as well as Tone, a collaboration with Sofia Samatar, from Columbia University Press in early 2024. ‘Insekt’ is part of an in-progress work of fiction, Realisms. She is a 2021 Guggenheim Fellow.

Articles Available Online


Insekt or large verminous thing

Fiction

September 2022

Kate Zambreno

Fiction

September 2022

Around dusk one evening in March, I went out back to the small garage, and switched on my small square of artificial light at...

Feature

January 2018

Accumulations (Appendix F)

Kate Zambreno

Feature

January 2018

I’ve been keeping a mental list of all the pieces of art that I’ve nursed Leo in front of...

Jamie sat alone at the edge of the dance floor and wondered how long it would be until Nigel arrived The band had been upping the tempo as the night wore on, keeping pace with the room’s rising alcohol level, and even the dance-shy souls were shaking their limbs by the speakers Jamie closed his eyes and the room pulled into focus To the left, his uncle was regurgitating insights from the morning’s sports pages; Tom, one of his distant relations, was attempting to seduce a girl with jokes about statutory rape; and somewhere near the bar his sister was giggling uncontrollably A throat was cleared in front of him, and he opened his eyes   There, wearing the same old double-breasted suit as always, was Nigel Jamie looked up at his shapeless face, with its doughy peaks and sallow creases His skin was so speckled and drawn it looked photocopied   ‘Hullo James,’ said Nigel A half-chewed canapé churned in his parted lips ‘Good spread’ He flicked a tartlet into his mouth and glanced at the low tables ‘Nice venue’   ‘It’s alright,’ Jamie said He glanced at his watch Nigel had said he would arrive before midnight   ‘The band are pretty good’ Nigel’s knee began to jostle in time with the snare ‘That’s real music, that Course you’re in to all that mindless drug music Umph umph umph Mind if I sit down? I’ll just take that chair Or is it a stool? I never can tell with this modern shit’ Nigel slumped down with a sigh ‘Been chasing the girls much? I’d say you’re not prohibitively ugly’   ‘So where are we going?’ Jamie asked   ‘Who said I was taking you anywhere?’   ‘I just…,’ Jamie began, looking puzzled ‘You want to talk? No weirdness?’   ‘An honest-to-goodness chat Is that too much to ask?’   Earlier that year, without ceremony, Jamie had passed into his twentieth year, but when he frowned he looked double that age His forehead bunched at the bridge of his nose, and there was weariness in the downturned mouth ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you something,’ he said ‘About the presents’ He saw the shrouded heaps

Contributor

August 2014

Kate Zambreno

Contributor

August 2014

Kate Zambreno is the author most recently of Drifts (Riverhead) and To Write As If Already Dead, a study...

Heroines

feature

March 2013

Kate Zambreno

feature

March 2013

I am beginning to realise that taking the self out of our essays is a form of repression. Taking the self out feels like...

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fiction

Issue No. 15

Haircut Magazine

Luke Brown

fiction

Issue No. 15

I. I used to worry about how much more intelligent and successful I would be if I hadn’t spent...

feature

July 2015

Talk Into My Bullet Hole

Rose McLaren

feature

July 2015

‘Someday people are going to read about you in a story or a poem. Will you describe yourself for...

poetry

September 2013

Poems

Osip Mandelstam

TR. Robert Chandler

TR. Boris Dralyuk

poetry

September 2013

Osip Mandelstam was born in Warsaw to a Polish Jewish family; his father was a leather merchant, his mother...

 

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