Mailing List


Orlando Reade

Orlando Reade is writing a Ph.D. on English poetry and cosmology in the seventeenth century. His interview with Lynette Yiadom-Boakye can be read in The White Review No. 13.



Articles Available Online


Wildness of the Day

feature

December 2016

Orlando Reade

feature

December 2016

One day in late 2011, waiting outside Green Park station, my gaze was drawn to an unexpected sight. Earlier that year a canopy of...

Interview

Issue No. 13

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye

Orlando Reade

Interview

Issue No. 13

Modern philosophy is threatened by love, whose objects are never only objects. Philosophers have discovered in love a lived...

Jamie sat alone at the edge of the dance floor and wondered how long it would be until Nigel arrived The band had been upping the tempo as the night wore on, keeping pace with the room’s rising alcohol level, and even the dance-shy souls were shaking their limbs by the speakers Jamie closed his eyes and the room pulled into focus To the left, his uncle was regurgitating insights from the morning’s sports pages; Tom, one of his distant relations, was attempting to seduce a girl with jokes about statutory rape; and somewhere near the bar his sister was giggling uncontrollably A throat was cleared in front of him, and he opened his eyes   There, wearing the same old double-breasted suit as always, was Nigel Jamie looked up at his shapeless face, with its doughy peaks and sallow creases His skin was so speckled and drawn it looked photocopied   ‘Hullo James,’ said Nigel A half-chewed canapé churned in his parted lips ‘Good spread’ He flicked a tartlet into his mouth and glanced at the low tables ‘Nice venue’   ‘It’s alright,’ Jamie said He glanced at his watch Nigel had said he would arrive before midnight   ‘The band are pretty good’ Nigel’s knee began to jostle in time with the snare ‘That’s real music, that Course you’re in to all that mindless drug music Umph umph umph Mind if I sit down? I’ll just take that chair Or is it a stool? I never can tell with this modern shit’ Nigel slumped down with a sigh ‘Been chasing the girls much? I’d say you’re not prohibitively ugly’   ‘So where are we going?’ Jamie asked   ‘Who said I was taking you anywhere?’   ‘I just…,’ Jamie began, looking puzzled ‘You want to talk? No weirdness?’   ‘An honest-to-goodness chat Is that too much to ask?’   Earlier that year, without ceremony, Jamie had passed into his twentieth year, but when he frowned he looked double that age His forehead bunched at the bridge of his nose, and there was weariness in the downturned mouth ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you something,’ he said ‘About the presents’ He saw the shrouded heaps

Contributor

August 2014

Orlando Reade

Contributor

August 2014

Orlando Reade is writing a Ph.D. on English poetry and cosmology in the seventeenth century. His interview with Lynette...

Life outside the Manet Paradise Resort : On the paintings of Lynette Yiadom-Boakye

feature

November 2012

Orlando Reade

feature

November 2012

*   A person is represented, sitting in what appears to be the banal and conventional pose of a high street studio portrait photographer:...

READ NEXT

poetry

August 2013

Poem from fortune: animal spiral

Sarah Lariviere

poetry

August 2013

xi. inside friend friend is not the landscape: to turn into the water wears and deposits rock, time friend,...

fiction

January 2016

The Bees

Wioletta Greg

TR. Eliza Marciniak

fiction

January 2016

On Sunday right after lunch, my father began preparing muskrat skins and cut his finger on a dirty penknife....

Art

December 2013

When We Were Here: The 1990s in Film

Masha Tupitsyn

Art

December 2013

‘I remember touch. Pictures came with touch.’ -Daft Punk, ‘Touch’   In the 1990s, three important pre post-reality films...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required