Dead again

May 6, 2009

2

Bosch. Dante. Blake. Doré. Each had their own teeming and unique visions. For Flann O’Brien, it was a depressing rural village in Ireland where men slowly became bicycles. Will Self had the afterlife as simply a suburb of London. Darran Anderson reviews David Eagleman's Sum.

Posted in: Reading

Outcasts, graphic violence & a bad ending

May 1, 2009

1

"Baise-Moi has nothing to do with 'bad girls', it is a low budget, punk, violent movie. Forget the tits and cunts, for one second. The key words here should be: gun, death, fake blood. Not “pussy pussy pussy”. We did not know people would be so amazed about the “pussy pussy pussy” angle. I don’t care those two characters have cunts. They are archetypes: violent outcasts. Should not be always defined by them having cunts." Alan Kelly interviews Virginie Despentes.

Posted in: Interviews

Four Little Pieces

April 24, 2009

1

Marion Bloom was standing in the middle of Clare Street, in the drizzle, watching them both. She was clearly unimpressed, and frowned, as she slit a steaming scone in two and plastered butter over its smoking pith. On glimpsing her, Stephen tried to make amends and appeal to her more merciful side. He held her steady-eyed gaze. “The heart is capable of great sacrifice. It is able to forgive and repair itself,” he said softly. “It is the same with the vagina,” said Marion Bloom, biting into the last piece of soft scone, hungrily. By Graham Bendel.

Posted in: Fiction

Red Tips

April 20, 2009

0

It was all so friggin simple, wasn’t it, back then. All us young shites, seven year olds running havoc around the estate, putting the craps up the old folks setting our crackers off behind them like that, driving our mams wild walking dogshit into the house, or letting off stinkbombs, not sure which smelled worse, but all the friggin same we were loved. Don’t you think? Or am I remembering it with a bit too much rose tint? By Martin Reed.

Posted in: Fiction

Three Poems

April 20, 2009

1

You mistake my head for a cantaloupe. Your mouth is speed metal against dry chalkboards. I dig your inner thighs out of my ears. I wear what’s left of you. By J. Bradley.

Posted in: Poetry

Not waving

April 17, 2009

0

"There’s a real thrill in finding some home-made personally-put-together comic offering that does outclass the expensive, glossy but often very shallow output of the mainstream. I guess the musical equivalent would be discovering those rare obscure 45’s that you can’t believe aren’t more well known." Darran Anderson interviews Paul O'Connell.

Posted in: Interviews

Dear Michael Kimball

April 15, 2009

2

"I was for a very long time, a big letter writer, a big postcard writer. After college, after I moved away from home, my grandfather and I wrote letters back and forth, and that was an important time in my life. Now I suppose it was after I stopped writing letters and postcards, that they took on a new form — the epistolary novel and the postcard life stories. Anyway, the thing I most love is the intimacy that is conveyed." Susan Tomaselli interviews Michael Kimball.

Posted in: Interviews