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91/92: notes on a Parisian commute (Semiotext(e)/Fugitives) and the UK translator of Simone de Beauvoir's previously unpublished novel, The Inseparables (Vintage).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

– I’m down maybe five feet I take a moment to thank the leaf-filled rectangle of sky, and with the muslin settled over my mouth and nose I yank on the tarpaulin and the black mound falls Then I pull the tarp out from under the covering layer, scrunch it down my side, and delicious hunks and crumbles of dug earth say: welcome   I allow a last minute of earthly thought and congratulate myself on this ingenious arrangement The spot in the forest, far from anywhere The tarp and the spade The digging – a long hole, deep enough to work, deep enough to be right – and the piling of the soil on the tarp with a good strip hanging over the edge of the hole for easy tugging The hurried discard of clothes, my body a chilly worm Turns out it starts to get warm quite soon as you go down; a reminder you’re entering a living being   Here’s the idea, which you’ll agree is simple and elegant: stay here, breathing with care, and make a long, long count to five in the glorious black See what happens At some point my wish will come true and I’ll bud; a tendril will burst from me and wrap me into the world From my flat edges, roundness   After a while it will be time to push up and out into the mossy night Ejected from under the skin of the world, I’ll be real again, greener, humming with mitochondria A twig in the nest, a bee in the hive, a member of the family, a body in a body-shaped space –   No three toadstools/porn-fae yet that day, but from spin to spin I’d got a decent number of gnarled oaks coming up on paylines Even one five of a kind Only Qs, but those five Qs brought me even I’d had a celebratory drink at that point I’d had a celebratory jelly snake from the top desk drawer I noted rhythmic splashes coming from outside, so I bent and twisted to raise the blind for a little dose   From the

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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fiction

March 2016

Red

Madeleine Watts

fiction

March 2016

It was the first week of 1976 and she had just turned 17.   The day school let out...

poetry

January 2016

Sex-Desert

Galina Rymbu

TR. Joan Brooks

poetry

January 2016

I’m screaming lying alone in this settlement     everything empty only emptiness sex – is a desert  ...

poetry

February 2017

In Case of Death

David Nash

poetry

February 2017

1. Cessation of Breath: Is He Breathing?   He’s not breathing, and he cannot go on like this. He...

 

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