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Lauren Elkin
Lauren Elkin is most recently the author of No. 91/92: notes on a Parisian commute (Semiotext(e)/Fugitives) and the UK translator of Simone de Beauvoir's previously unpublished novel, The Inseparables (Vintage). Her previous book Flâneuse: Women Walk the City (Chatto/FSG) was a finalist for the PEN/Diamonstein-Spielvogel Award for the Art of the Essay, a New York Times Notable Book of 2017, and a BBC Radio 4 Book of the Week. Her essays have appeared in Granta, the London Review of Books, Harper’s, the New York Times, and Frieze, among others. Her next book, Art Monsters, will be out in July 2023 (Chatto/FSG). She lives in London.

Articles Available Online


Maria Gainza’s ‘Optic Nerve’

Book Review

May 2019

Lauren Elkin

Book Review

May 2019

In his foreword to A Thousand Plateaus, on the pleasures of philosophy, and of Deleuze and Guattari’s philosophy in particular, Brian Massumi writes:  ...

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Issue No. 8

Barking From the Margins: On écriture féminine

Lauren Elkin

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Issue No. 8

 I. Two moments in May May 2, 2011. The novelists Siri Hustvedt and Céline Curiol are giving a talk...

Early in Judith Schalansky’s An Inventory of Losses, the narrator describes the way an ancient form of writing survived oblivion The soft clay tablets on which the proto-ancient Greek script known as Linear B were written, detailing the income and expenditure of the Palace of Knossos, were hardened by a fire that destroyed nearly everything else around them, including most of the palace itself If not for the fire, the survival of that early practice of record-keeping by inscription is doubtful Such an irony seems central to Schalansky’s work Her new book is about what we have lost, but also what remains: in her case, not through fire but through imagination   Translated from the German by Jackie Smith, An Inventory of Losses is an attempt to confront what has been destroyed, either by time or human hand How can writing, it asks us, help us remember or mourn the inevitable destruction of things? In this series of prose pieces that mix essay, memoir and fiction, Schalansky describes a variety of objects that have disappeared from the world Her sense of what an object is – maybe ‘thing’ is a better word – is expansive, including animals, films, and buildings Each piece begins with a factual description of the item, and the accompanying text expands on it either by reconstructing the world in which the thing existed or sometimes imagining a scene that somehow resonates with it in a less direct way Whether she is describing a particular breed of extinct tiger, the lost poetry manuscripts of Sappho, or monumental buildings from Schalansky’s own East Berlin childhood, her book is part Wunderkammer, part memento mori   The book calls itself an ‘inventory,’ and although the term is wonderfully evocative, it is somehow limiting to what An Inventory of Losses actually is, the title being another example of Schalansky’s irony According to the Society of American Archives, an inventory is, ‘A list of things, or a finding aid that includes, at a minimum, a list of the series in a collection’ There are other works of literature that resemble this more

Contributor

August 2014

Lauren Elkin

Contributor

August 2014

Lauren Elkin is most recently the author of No. 91/92: notes on a Parisian commute (Semiotext(e)/Fugitives) and the UK...

The End of Francophonie: The Politics of French Literature

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Issue No. 2

Lauren Elkin

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Issue No. 2

I. We were a couple of minutes late for the panel we’d hoped to attend. The doors were closed and there was a surly-looking...

READ NEXT

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July 2013

The New Writing

César Aira

TR. Rahul Bery

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July 2013

The way I see it, the avant-garde emerged at a point when the professionalisation of artists had consumed itself...

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Issue No. 15

Translation in the First Person

Kate Briggs

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Issue No. 15

IT IS 1 JUNE 2015 and I am standing outside no. 11 rue Servandoni in Paris’s sixth arrondissement. I...

poetry

September 2011

The Cinematographer, a 42-year-old man named Miyagawa, aimed his camera directly at the sun, which at first probably seemed like a bad idea

Michael Earl Craig

poetry

September 2011

Last night Kurosawa’s woodcutter strode through the forest, his axe on his shoulder. Intense sunlight stabbed and sparkled and...

 

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