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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...

there is no doubt, here it is, on the sign:                Prawn chowder   prawn                                    chowder   (words already unfamiliar but growing more distant as I say them in my head for a third time)   prawn ?           chowder ?   on reflection        cream of cauliflower doesn’t seem so bad which is why I’m ladling (eyebrows peaking, just a little, at how the soup matches the sides of the takeaway container) And now I’m paying                                                               tap your card darling and tapping (darling)          and     walking and my hand!, container too hot, palm softening, losing lines, switching hands (surprisingly pink!), round to the lifts, sound chiming, me picking up pace, just fast enough to make it, stepping in someone else asking                                                             what floor   One ‘One’? Christ, should’ve said ‘first’ rubbing my leg against the side   Intercom, now,                                                                      First Floor Out, doors wide, down into the corridor (averting my eyes, upwards, away from the red and orange concentric circles across the carpet), upper arm preparing to negotiate the swing doors, nudging myself and the soup carefully slowly slowly through   I must walk as if I am not checking whether the sofa and table are free, I have no purpose, nonchalantly wandering, with my soup that is not too hot and my spoon that is just in my hand for whenever I fancy using it, purely making a casual parade of the office, bearing to the left, towards the kitchen area where a certain sofa resides, not that I’m hoping to get that exact sofa and table I use most days, just after the fridge, hidden behind the coffee station, and which may or may not be occupied, no no, just walking, just scheming at how, if someone has their lunchbox firmly on the table, how I can walk (not dejected, not me!) as if I am only passing by, not turning around,   (approaching now, scanning for a foot sticking out, a coat draped on the side) I will keep walking, I decide, walking, and just go

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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Interview

Issue No. 19

Interview with Álvaro Enrigue

Thomas Bunstead

Interview

Issue No. 19

Álvaro Enrigue is a Mexican writer who lives and teaches in New York. A leading light in the Spanish-language...

feature

April 2017

Symbols Made Me Hardcore

Joe Bucciero

feature

April 2017

‘A Sound System, like the property of any system, is the interaction of the sum of its parts.’ —...

Interview

February 2014

Interview with Patrick Keiller

David Anderson

Interview

February 2014

Patrick Keiller, an architect ‘diverted’ into making films, is principally known for his Robinson series, which began with  London (1994)...

 

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