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Rose McLaren

Rose McLaren is an artist in London.



Articles Available Online


Talk Into My Bullet Hole

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July 2015

Rose McLaren

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July 2015

‘Someday people are going to read about you in a story or a poem. Will you describe yourself for those people?’ ‘Oh, I don’t...

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May 2014

Art Does Not Know a Beyond: On Karl Ove Knausgaard

Rose McLaren

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May 2014

Karl Ove Knausgaard’s My Struggle has an oddly medieval form: a cycle, composed of six auto-biographical books about the...

& we say to her what have you done with our kin that you swallowed? & she says that was ages ago, you’ve drunk them by now — Danez Smith, ‘dream where every black person is standing by the ocean’   The atoms of those people who were thrown overboard are out there in the ocean even today — Christina Sharpe, In The Wake: On Blackness and Being   of / water / rains & / dead — M NourbeSe Philip, Zong! #5   The beaches of Benin are empty From Cotonou to Ouidah I have never seen beaches so empty before From the windows of our minivan, the coastline is a wide expanse of sand beginning just beyond the road, on and on, and then water Palm trees here and there, but emptiness, mostly Nobody, no livestock, just sand As for us, we are eight women and we have just arrived Three of us – myself included – flew in from London, with the five others coming in from the States All of us have flown in from winter It is January, and on our first full day together, our bare skin re-colouring in the light, we ask the driver to take us to a restaurant for lunch We are seeking the kind of seafood of which we are all so starved, and when our dishes arrive they don’t disappoint Each platter careens with fried plantain, grilled fish, yam, rice, and prawns so large they’re not prawns any more but gambas, instead Gambas or langoustines or crayfish or crawfish, depending on which of us is speaking, or who cares to know the difference Whatever any of it is called, we resolve that we would like to return to eat it again, here, at this terraced balcony from which we watch the sea The restaurant sits on a beach that is vacant as far as our sight can reach There is a mutedness to the expanse of the sand, and though it looks no different now than it would at any other time, the staff tell us that yesterday a boy drowned nearby   The beaches of Benin

Contributor

August 2014

Rose McLaren

Contributor

August 2014

Rose McLaren is an artist in London.

The Prosaic Sublime of Béla Tarr

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Issue No. 6

Rose McLaren

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Issue No. 6

I have to recognise it’s cosmical; the shit is cosmical. It’s not just social, it’s not just ontological, it’s really huge. And that’s why we...
Stalker, Writer or Professor? Geoff Dyer's Zona and Genre

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February 2012

Rose McLaren

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February 2012

‘So what kind of a writer am I, reduced to writing a summary of a film?’ wonders Geoff Dyer half way through Zona. Such...

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poetry

April 2017

Two Poems

Fady Joudah

poetry

April 2017

EUROPA AND THE BULL   The boat was loaded on a truck. The truck took me to the border....

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Issue No. 16

Editorial

The Editors

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Issue No. 16

The political and internet activist Eli Pariser coined the term ‘Filter Bubble’ in 2011 to describe how we have...

fiction

April 2013

Fairy Tale Ending

Stacy Patton

fiction

April 2013

Rodeo Cowboy You meet him at a rodeo dance on the Fourth of July. You are 17. He is 20;...

 

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