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91/92: notes on a Parisian commute (Semiotext(e)/Fugitives) and the UK translator of Simone de Beauvoir's previously unpublished novel, The Inseparables (Vintage).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

‘World finance had, in 2008, a near-death experience’   The words belong to a partner of a renowned international law firm The partner was standing at the podium, looking over a sea of bearded faces within which bobbed a scattering of men and women without any facial hair, some of whom (those from firms that were days away from collapsing) were jotting down every word as if the speech were a newly unearthed Gospel The partner was trying his best to kill time before the introductory speaker showed up It was already 08:30 and he had yet to arrive The partner therefore ad-libbed into the dark sea, praying that nobody was really listening to what he was saying   The introductory speaker – a Revenue Recognition Analyst for the redundantly named Halal Islamic Bank (HIB) – reached the office of the renowned international law firm at 08:32, two minutes after the time he was supposed to have started the address for the Gillette-sponsored Islamic Banking Roadshow He was late because this was his first time at that particular law firm’s offices and the blue GPS-dot on his mobile phone had been bouncing about erratically in the City which had led him to take a taxi, which should have been faster than walking but wasn’t His face was covered in a film of sweat, lubricating his nose and making his glasses slide down The woman who greeted him at the reception was pretty, then, until he pushed them back up She gave him a concerned look, then checked him off the list and opened the little glass gate that led to the elevators The elevator mirrors confirmed what he had feared ever since he got into the taxi: his left underarm was covered in sweat   He had a tendency to sweat profusely, so much so that it would seep through not only his undershirt, but also his shirt and in extreme cases such as today, even his jacket The reason his right armpit was dry was because he had received a Botox®-injection to stop the sweating three days ago They had called it an injection,

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...

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poetry

September 2013

Poems

Osip Mandelstam

TR. Robert Chandler

TR. Boris Dralyuk

poetry

September 2013

Osip Mandelstam was born in Warsaw to a Polish Jewish family; his father was a leather merchant, his mother...

Prize Entry

April 2015

How things are falling.

David Isaacs

Prize Entry

April 2015

i.   Oyster cards were first issued to members of the British public in July 2003; by June 2015...

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Issue No. 2

Gay Madonnas in Montevergine: The Feast of Mamma Schiavona

Annabel Howard

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Issue No. 2

We are crowded into the medium-sized piazza before the sanctuary of Montevergine. There is no town or village; it...

 

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