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Chris Newlove Horton
Chris Newlove Horton is a writer living in London.

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DATE NIGHT

Prize Entry

April 2016

Chris Newlove Horton

Prize Entry

April 2016

He said, ‘Tell me about yourself.’ He said, ‘Tell me about you.’ He said, ‘Tell me everything. I’m interested.’ He said, ‘I want to...

fiction

April 2015

Heavy

Chris Newlove Horton

fiction

April 2015

It is a two lane road somewhere in North America. The car is pulled onto the shoulder with the...

The first contact I had with Mary Ruefle was through her website Against a black landing page, five headings in yellow serif font float, suspended in HTML darkness Clicking on the ‘contact’ link redirected me to a cruel joke: ‘Surprise! I do not actually own a computer The only way to contact me is by contacting my press, Wave Books, or by running into someone I know personally on the street’ This message hovered next to an image of an empty stone font resembling a bird bath, over whose basin had been taped the words ‘The Unknown’ Since Ruefle lives in Bennington, Vermont, a chance encounter seemed unlikely Instead, I got in touch with her ‘people’ Doing so marked the beginning of a generous correspondence unfolding over several months, all via ‘snail mail’ A reflection of her devotion to the materiality of writing, Ruefle writes almost exclusively by hand, a habit which does nothing to inhibit her productivity She has published eleven books of poetry, two volumes of prose and one comic, alongside a collection of lectures She has also made some ninety-nine erasure books, a ritual to which she dedicates herself daily I was reminded of this each time she returned the transcript of our interview, cross-hatched with red ink, and little white shadows of Tippex   ‘Wite-Out’ forms a kind of scar, evidence of one formulation of thought deleted at another’s expense; it is also a gesture of illumination, of ‘burying and bringing to light’ Ruefle’s writing pinpoints little snags in the fabric of the ordinary – a woman suddenly too fearful of the light inside her refrigerator to access a pitcher of water, or that ‘feeling of frightening abundance’ that descends when you realise there is altogether ‘too much shampoo and too much toothpaste, too much pollution, dirt, rocks and grass’ in this world Rote gestures, like sweeping crumbs from the kitchen counter, gain dimensions of tenderness wilfully repressed in everyday life As Ruefle confesses: ‘I like to turn ordinary actions into an encounter’ A preoccupation with dust, dishcloths and petroleum jelly is a political preoccupation, with the

Contributor

August 2014

Chris Newlove Horton

Contributor

August 2014

Chris Newlove Horton is a writer living in London.

James Richards: Not Blacking Out...

Art

December 2011

Chris Newlove Horton

Art

December 2011

Artist James Richards appropriates audio-visual material gathered from a range of sources, which he then edits into elaborate, fragmented collages.   But whereas his...

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Prize Entry

April 2015

Smote, or ...

Eley Williams

Prize Entry

April 2015

To kiss you should not involve such fear of imprecision. I shouldn’t mind about the gallery attendant. He is...

Interview

March 2017

Interview with Rodrigo Hasbún

Enea Zaramella

Rodrigo Hasbún

TR. Sophie Hughes

Interview

March 2017

Rodrigo Hasbún (born Cochabamba, Bolivia, 1981) has published two novels and a collection of short stories; he was selected...

fiction

January 2015

Judge Sa’b

Uday Prakash

TR. Jason Grunebaum

fiction

January 2015

Nine years ago, after thirteen years of living in the Rohini neighbourhood of north Delhi, I moved, and came...

 

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