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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91/92: notes on a Parisian commute (Semiotext(e)/Fugitives) and the UK translator of Simone de Beauvoir's previously unpublished novel, The Inseparables (Vintage).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 am standing in a parallelogram of shrubbery outside London City Airport Ed is twisting a dial on his Mamiya RZ67 and squinting into its viewfinder He is wearing a Berghaus anorak, as standard, with a beanie hat, hiking boots and a flannel shirt His breath is clouding up around his face The camera’s lens is pointing at a factory in the distance, a complex heap of blocks and towers known locally as Sugar Mountain, officially as Tate & Lyle It rises abruptly at the end of the residential street, a gargantuan prison-like structure that might have functioned as a set for the film adaptation of 1984 had they not used the ruinous Beckton Gas Works a few miles east of here It is an architecturally hermetic building, anxious to preserve the final vestige of industrial productivity in an otherwise idle landscape Directly in front of us is a two-lane arterial road Cars zip past like urgent telegrams Every surface has been designed to enclose, repel or separate There are wooden fences embedded in concrete troughs There are concrete bridges and glass walls There are barriers, railings and painted lines—   ‘Excuse me? You’re not allowed to take pictures here!’   We turn to see a man in a hi-vis vest His nylon shirt is of that municipal noncolour that sits somewhere between turquoise and grey An ID card hangs from a branded lanyard at his neck   The best thing to do in situations like these is ignore the non-threats, take the photograph you’ve come to take and defend that tiny patch of civil freedom from the powers that seek to invade The official seems reluctant to break the invisible screen that separates the designated walking space from the decorative shrubs in which we stand It isn’t long before he strides forth, stepping through the plants in standard-issue boots, to reiterate his demands     * Consciously structured to minimise friction, slowness and delay, airports are places of social and spatial control Their architecture tends towards the abstraction of geometry, lines, lanes, parabolas and arcs; grids across which the traveller moves like a mathematical function Passengers

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

August 2013

To the Woman

Adam Seelig

poetry

August 2013

Art

October 2014

For the Motherboard

Vanessa Hodgkinson

James Bridle

Art

October 2014

Please click on the links below to download, print and assemble (instructions in slideshow above) Vanessa Hodgkinson’s For the Motherboard:...

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March 2016

Behind the Yellow Curtain

Annina Lehmann

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March 2016

Notes from a workshop   At first, there is nothing but a yellow curtain at the back of the...

 

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