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Skye Arundhati Thomas
Skye Arundhati Thomas is co-editor of The White Review.

Articles Available Online


Interview with Bani Abidi

Interview

Issue No. 33

Skye Arundhati Thomas

Interview

Issue No. 33

In the three-minute short Mangoes (1999) by Berlin-based Pakistani artist Bani Abidi, two women sit next to each other on a white table, each with...

Art Review

February 2019

Simryn Gill, Soft Tissue

Skye Arundhati Thomas

Art Review

February 2019

I walked into Simryn Gill’s exhibition SOFT TISSUE at Jhaveri Contemporary on one of the worst days of an...

On a pale marble fountain in Dubrovnik, I posed I pretended I too was a stone figure, water gushing from my smooth, full breasts A focal point in a crowded square of coffee drinkers and nuns, radiating from within I couldn’t wait for my vision of a woman to emerge In my grandmother’s wooded garden, I wore my red plaid dress backwards, playing at having a bust, three buttons undone My collarbones would be something beautiful, I knew Like me, my friends rehearsed womanhood One friend would lead me to her mother’s closet and pull out the silks and laces for us to wear Another drew a brassiere, stockings and garters on her Barbie doll Barbie and Ken slept naked I pressed them together and held them still I imagined this cool, dry embrace was the path to ecstasy The hair jarred me out of this fantasy I was dreaming in the dusk of a blanket fort, my arm behind my head Springing from my underarm was crooked, pale brown wire I felt too old for my t-shirt – painted birds in puffed, bright colours If I ignored the strands, would they disappear? My first menstruation came on Easter Sunday And the next at Christmas Then again at Easter, Christmas and in some years at high summer I felt connected to something great, God or otherwise, yet wanted nothing to do with the blood I wanted only to be an effigy Now, I tried to will it away I thought the dry time between bleeding meant I was succeeding ** My father and I hiked up the hill behind our house, past where the fires burned, past the horse stalls, past the fire roads and to the strip mall where I took karate lessons I felt strong, free, free again Free as one can only feel in suburban Los Angeles when one realises it is possible to live without a car I loved my breasts, small, nonetheless there, my strong legs The way the fabric clung to me, the yellow dust and sweat on my skin My

Contributor

February 2018

Skye Arundhati Thomas

Contributor

February 2018

Skye Arundhati Thomas is co-editor of The White Review.

Bani Abidi & Naeem Mohaiemen, I wish to let you fall out of my hands (Chapter 1)

Art Review

February 2018

Skye Arundhati Thomas

Art Review

February 2018

Loneliness is mostly narrative. It also has an aesthetic: an empty tableau in which the lonely act is performed. In Naeem Mohaiemen’s Tripoli Cancelled...
The characters in We That Are Young reside at ‘The Farm’ – a sprawling house in New Delhi complete with its own topiary of fat peacocks, bulbous pink flowers with English names, Fendi furniture, and a room in which it snows at the press of a button It’s not far removed from reality – Antilla, the world’s first billion-dollar residence for a single family of four, is a 40-storey building that towers over the suburbs of South Mumbai, replete with a staff of over 600 people, its own electrical power grid, ten-storey parking for a collection of unusable vintage cars, and a room, of course, where it snows on demand In dialogue with Shakespeare’s King Lear, Taneja’s debut novel explores the lives of a family that owns a multinational conglomerate, ‘The Company’, to which each character’s fate (and inheritance) is inextricably tied We have our patriarch, the Lear figure, Devraj; his three daughters Sita, Radha and Gargi; and his right-hand man Ranjit’s two sons, Jeet and Jivan The embarrassment of riches makes for an irresistible, if outlandish, setting; Taneja vividly indulges our intrigue in the way the rich conduct their daily lives, letting her words ooze out their luxury – filthy, yet so desirable After a particularly gruesome scene in which Radha administers the plucking out of a man’s eyes, she steps back into her suite and calls for a pot of first flush Assam, and rose macaroons   A reinterpretation of Shakespeare is the perfect postcolonial conquest: he remains the epitome of the Western canon, patriarchal, and repeatedly failing to include representations of the ‘other’ without recourse to parody Mainstream appropriations of Shakespeare in South Asia, such as Bollywood filmmaker Vishal Bharadwaj’s trilogy Maqbool (Macbeth), Omkara (Othello), and Haider (Hamlet), have generally taken us to rural settings, wherein tragedy is relegated to a matter of the lower castes Taneja, a Shakespearean academic and human rights activist, eschews such stereotypes, and goes straight for the jugular: the innate hypocrisy of the Indian class and caste system ‘It’s not about land, it’s about money,’ states the first line of the book, taking
Preti Taneja’s ‘We That Are Young’

Book Review

October 2017

Skye Arundhati Thomas


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Interview

Issue No. 7

Interview with Keston Sutherland

Natalie Ferris

Interview

Issue No. 7

Said by the New Statesman to be ‘at the forefront of the experimental movement in contemporary British poetry’, Keston...

feature

May 2013

Haneke's Lessons

Ricky D'Ambrose

feature

May 2013

‘Art is there to have a stimulating effect, if it earns its name. You have to be honest, that’s...

Interview

May 2014

Interview with Eimear McBride

David Collard

Interview

May 2014

Eimear McBride’s first book, the radically experimental A Girl is a Half-formed Thing, was written when she was 27 and...

 

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