Mailing List


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91/92: notes on a Parisian commute (Semiotext(e)/Fugitives) and the UK translator of Simone de Beauvoir's previously unpublished novel, The Inseparables (Vintage).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:  ...

feature

Issue No. 8

Barking From the Margins: On écriture féminine

Lauren Elkin

feature

Issue No. 8

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

You won’t be able to do it It is a call, and it is something you only know how to do by doing it over and over Birds practise their musical tunes Cows practise their ‘moo’ as they stroll through the fields But persons don’t know how to make a call, and so you will never be able to do it   ‘Oh you’ is sung It starts out a little bit lower and ends a little bit higher like the call for a Bob White bird, only slower You hold on to it longer And like the call of the Bob White bird, you do it over and over and over again The more you do it, the more you have to do it And you have to think of a 1% solution of WC Fields and little bit of bursting at the end ‘Oh you,’ ‘Oh you’   But anyway, you can’t do it You can’t do it because you hardened your voice around some sounds you heard once And now you can’t change it   You thought it would sound good to hold on to the ts at the ends of words with a breathy whistle that is held until the beginning of next word You make that whistle for every single word that ends with a t You like it, and your head jumps a little bit every time you say it You say ‘but’ or ‘but-uh’ a lot so that you can make that t sound a whole bunch more times You put it in everywhere: But-stah-aah But-stah-aah You put it in between words, at the end of sentences, and at moments when other people would have a chance to talk   Or you say ‘Sure, sure, sure’ while other people are talking like you already thought of everything they were saying a thousand years ago Sometimes you say the name of someone and then ‘Sure, Sure, Sure’ Then sometimes you repeat the name several times together with ‘Sure, Sure, Sure’ while holding your finger in the air so that they will stop talking and you can say all of your sentences

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

feature

Issue No. 2

Lauren Elkin

feature

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

Art

June 2016

Art and its Functions: Recent Work by Luke Hart

Rye Dag Holmboe

Art

June 2016

Luke Hart’s Wall, recently on display at London’s William Benington Gallery, is a single, large-scale sculpture composed of a...

poetry

May 2013

Ad Tertiam

Saskia Hamilton

poetry

May 2013

Rows of pines, planted years ago – so many, were you to count them on your fingers, you would...

Essay

Issue No. 18

The Disquieting Muses

Leslie Jamison

Essay

Issue No. 18

I.   In Within Heaven and Hell (1996), Ellen Cantor’s voice-over tells the story of a doomed love affair...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required