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Rosanna Mclaughlin
Rosanna Mclaughlin is an editor at The White Review.

Articles Available Online


The Pious and the Pommery

Essay

Issue No. 18

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Essay

Issue No. 18

I.   Where is the champagne? On second thoughts this is not entirely the right question. The champagne is in the ice trough, on...

Essay

April 2019

Ariana and the Lesbian Narcissus

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Essay

April 2019

‘Avoid me not!’ ‘Avoid me not!’                                   Narcissus   Let me describe a GIF I’ve been watching. A lot....

‘Suite’ was born of an invitation Pierre Senges received to contribute to an anthology on the future of the novel (Devenirs du roman, published by Inculte/Naïf in 2007) That impetus goes some way to expain the essay’s programmatic aspects: ‘Suite’ is an ars poetica, a droll demonstration of its author’s daringly agile imagination If one were looking for a prickly rejoinder to the calculating candor of autobiographical fictions, or a riposte to the purveyors of a narrowly conceived realism, these 4,500 words of ludic vitriol might do the trick in spades —J S   *   Prelude   The bookstore overrun by the charming singers: here they come, they are superb, they’ve crystal-clear eyes and faces chiseled by experience, twenty years old almost; they’re not glabrous, only a baby would be so naïve, they are not bearded, but rather endowed with the elegance of some Greek aristo-platonic ancestor, or with some elusive trait by which two old readers of Proudhon recognise one another — neither glabrous nor bearded, but in an intermediate state of charming singer, of beautiful abandon, disheveled hair, and virility, to which are added, if you can believe it, veritable pearls of sweat The face of the lover, perfect the morning after his exploits, rolling out of bed, wild and natural, still feeling the effects of his efforts, not more vain for that though, seeming to confer the status of exception upon the ordinariness of routine, but languid with a handsome, manly languor (we see there his abandonment to the forces of nature): the charming singer should appear to have been pulled from his bed at noon, and appear before his admirers in pyjamas, which grants him the right to take his breakfast in public, like the Sun King He is suave, he’s a crooner, a crooner without coffers but a crooner all the same, a tenor of songs that susurrate near the microwave since he is unable to project his voice to the other side of the proscenium; and since his couplets are of the intimate sort (stories of flings, of regrets following the fling, of regret’s end

Contributor

July 2016

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Contributor

July 2016

Rosanna Mclaughlin is an editor at The White Review.

Ten Years at Garage Moscow

Art Review

November 2018

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Art Review

November 2018

When I arrive in Moscow, I am picked up from the airport by Roman, a patriotic taxi driver sent to collect me courtesy of...
Becoming Alice Neel

Art

August 2017

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Art

August 2017

From the first time I saw Alice Neel’s portraits, I wanted to see the world as she did. Neel was the Matisse of the...

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Interview

December 2013

Interview with Tess Jaray

Lily Le Brun

Interview

December 2013

In the light-filled rooms of The Piper Gallery is a painting show that features no paint. Brought together by...

poetry

February 2011

Mainly about Roth

Aidan Cottrell Boyce

poetry

February 2011

From the start he was thrown in at the deep-end when the head keeper just handed him a pail...

fiction

July 2012

The Pits

FMJ Botham

fiction

July 2012

Sometimes he would emerge from his bedroom around midday and the sun would be more or less bright, or...

 

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