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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...

When I was born my mum and the nurses had laughed at my long baby fingernails ‘You were a soft ball with these sudden sharp surprises,’ my mum said, ‘like finding bits of eggshell in your omelette’ I think about this a lot I wedge my thumbnail into the omelette-y skin behind my other thumbnail I do it until red appears like tomato juice   I have always had long and fast-growing fingernails I am getting revenge on the woman who lives upstairs   *   On February 17th I meet Melanie in the foyer of our building To ‘meet’ a person can have three meanings:   To see or talk to someone for the first time To come together with someone intentionally To come together with someone unintentionally   When I ‘meet’ Melanie on 17 February in the foyer for me it is the third meaning   The building is supposed to be called Benson Tower but the first ‘e’ and the second ‘o’ have been gone since before I moved in It has always been Bnson Twer The building is marginally nicer on the inside that it is on the outside Melanie is standing by the fluffy green notice board but she isn’t looking at the flyers, she’s looking at her phone I close the front door behind me and walk past her I wait at the door into the stairwell She hasn’t looked up   ‘Are you coming this way?’   (Now she does look up)   ‘Sorry?’   ‘Upstairs Are you going upstairs?’   ‘Oh Yeah, sorry In a sec’   ‘I can wait’   ‘Do you live here too?’   It is clear that Melanie thinks we are ‘meeting’ in the first sense, even though we’ve met several times I can remember all of the times that we have met Once, we met in the doorway She approached me from behind and we stood side and side, looking at the street It was raining and I said ‘It’s raining,’ and she said ‘Cats and dogs,’ and then she laughed She pulled her scarf over her head and walked out She was wearing tan ankle boots and I wondered if they would fill up with rainwater like two novelty flowerpots   Another

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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Art

June 2013

Ghosts and Relics: The Haunting Avant-Garde

John Douglas Millar

Art

June 2013

‘The avant-garde can’t be ignored, so to ignore it – as most humanist British novelists do – is the...

feature

May 2016

Postcard from Istanbul

Sydney Ribot

feature

May 2016

    Saturday       On March 19, at 1 p.m. in a café off Turnacibaşı St., an...

feature

May 2012

Film: Palestine Festival of Literature

Omar Robert Hamilton

feature

May 2012

Resistance needs to be recorded. Resistance needs symbols: ideas that can travel faster than speech, last longer than memory....

 

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