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David Isaacs
David Isaacs has recently completed a PhD about the ethics of rewriting at UCL. He is coming to the end of a first novel and is at the early stages of a new project about the present tense.


Articles Available Online


Interview with Namwali Serpell

Interview

December 2020

David Isaacs

Interview

December 2020

Namwali Serpell is a rarity: an academic and novelist whose criticism is as vital as her fiction. Since we first spoke, in September 2020,...

Book Review

June 2018

Christine Schutt’s ‘Pure Hollywood’

David Isaacs

Book Review

June 2018

There is a certain kind of American novelist of the late twentieth century whose fiction fetishises plant names. The...

Balanchine, the Wilis, and Collective Female Anger in Ballet   Growing up in ballet, I occasionally trained with a visiting instructor who had danced for George Balanchine in his glory days at New York City Ballet She went by only her first name and titled her dance accordingly, perhaps in an attempt to mythologise herself in the same way she mythologised ‘Mr B’ – when she spoke of him, her eyes took on a cultish glaze I came to associate that mesmerised expression and a near-erotic love of dance with Balanchine dancers, many of whom never seem to have got over having been touched by The Master   When she warned us that ageing as a dancer was an accelerated process, as though we were deteriorating in dog-years, I felt let in on a secret that connected me with a grand tradition of dancers But she was also a cautionary tale: as I would imagine her preparing for her goddess-like descent on our class – brushing her wispy, waist-length white hair into a severe bun, wrapping her frame (which had no loose skin to indicate that she had ever gained weight or strayed from a balletic body) in tights and a chiffon skirt as though she were still a student – I felt unsafe from myself, as though I was quickly approaching a day when there would be nothing I could change about my life, either Wanting could become an end unto itself   Like many young dancers, I devoured former NYCB principal Gelsey Kirkland’s 1986 autobiography, Dancing on My Grave, which chronicles her rise from star student to principal dancer, her drug addiction, physical deterioration, and the pitfalls of being locked into Balanchine’s closed system of instruction I read the book between classes in the crumbling building of my ballet school, breathing the characteristic scent of rosen, sweat, and Jet glue while the other girls stretched and tittered as the boys struggled to balance in their pointe shoes For many, these interactions were their earliest flirtations, branded by the slightest betrayal of the strict balletic gender divide: women wear pointe shoes, extending their limbs

Contributor

August 2014

David Isaacs

Contributor

August 2014

David Isaacs has recently completed a PhD about the ethics of rewriting at UCL. He is coming to the end...

Prize Entry

April 2017

Pylons

David Isaacs

Prize Entry

April 2017

Once upon a time, Dad would begin, I think, focusing on the road, there was a man called Watt....

Seasickness

Prize Entry

April 2016

David Isaacs

Prize Entry

April 2016

‘How would you begin?’   She puts a finger to her lips, a little wrinkled still from the water, and hesitates. She says, ‘Maybe:...
How things are falling.

Prize Entry

April 2015

David Isaacs

Prize Entry

April 2015

i.   Oyster cards were first issued to members of the British public in July 2003; by June 2015 they will have been replaced...
by Accident

fiction

April 2014

David Isaacs

fiction

April 2014

[To be read aloud]   I want to begin – and I hope I don’t come across as autistic or anything like that (and...

READ NEXT

poetry

November 2016

Gentle

Harriet Moore

poetry

November 2016

Forgive me Sister for I have sinned it’s been seconds since my last confession. I sit in the dark...

fiction

Issue No. 17

Boom Boom

Clemens Meyer

TR. Katy Derbyshire

fiction

Issue No. 17

You’re flat on your back on the street. And you thought the nineties were over.   And they nearly...

poetry

October 2012

Saint Anthony the Hermit Tortured by Devils

Stephen Devereux

poetry

October 2012

  Sassetta has him feeling no pain, comfortable even, Yet stiffly dignified at an odd angle like the statue...

 

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