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Johanna Hedva
JOHANNA HEDVA is the author of the novel, ON HELL. Their collection of poems and essays, MINERVA THE MISCARRIAGE OF THE BRAIN, will be published in September 2020. Their essay, ‘Sick Woman Theory,’ published in MASK in 2016, has been translated into six languages, and their writing has appeared in TRIPLE CANOPY, FRIEZE, BLACK WARRIOR REVIEW, and ASIAN AMERICAN LITERARY REVIEW. Their work has been shown at The Institute of Contemporary Arts in London, Performance Space New York, the LA Architecture and Design Museum, and the Museum of Contemporary Art on the Moon. Their album, THE SUN AND THE MOON, was released in March 2019, and they’re currently touring BLACK MOON LILITH IN PISCES IN THE 4TH HOUSE, a doom metal guitar and voice performance influenced by Korean shamanist ritual. Their novel, YOUR LOVE IS NO GOOD is out in May 2023 from And Other Stories.  

Articles Available Online


‘They’re Really Close To My Body’: A Hagiography of Nine Inch Nails and their resident mystic Robin Finck

Essay

Issue No. 27

Johanna Hedva

Essay

Issue No. 27

‘We possess nothing in this world other than the power to say “I”. This is what we must yield up to God.’ — Simone...

Book Review

October 2019

She, Etcetera

Johanna Hedva

Book Review

October 2019

Every brainy queer of my generation, especially those born under the sign of Saturn, went through a phase where...

Growing up, the joke in my family was that I could sleep on broken glass if I had to  Back then, I often slept for 11, 12, 13 hours at a time  If I woke to a quiet house I would turn over and go back to sleep, no matter how long I’d been in bed for  If I woke again and it was still quiet I would go downstairs to see if my father had killed my mother in the night, or the other way around   I stopped sleeping some time before my final year in school, when I was 16 or 17  I can’t remember exactly when  At first I was bemused by it  I would lie in bed and wait patiently for sleep to come  I burned vanilla scented candles and read huge novels, The Count of Monte Cristo, Great Expectations, War and Peace, Middlemarch  Nothing worked  When I realised I was never going to sleep again I was furious  What had I ever done?  So I stopped trying  I drank hot chocolate late into the night and wrote stories about girls who were dying to be saved, but in the end just died  Afterwards, I ripped them into tiny pieces that my mother wouldn’t be able to read when she was going through my waste basket and searching under my bed   I’ve tried all the cures for insomnia – counting sheep, counting numbers, warm baths, hot showers, warm milky drinks, chamomile tea, sleeping pills, magnesium, going to bed at the same time every night, herbal remedies, massage, sex, drunkenness – but the only thing that really works is to stop being miserable   *   As a rule, I don’t do well at parties, but I went along with it to seem good humoured and young, or at least as young as I was pretending to be  I’d been searching for somewhere to live for weeks when Kate’s ad appeared  ‘If you like books and music, we’ll get along’, it said, ‘Must like cats’  I’d read hundreds of ads by then and was sure no one in Dublin wanted to live with a 37-year-old proofreader, not even the 37-year-olds  In my

Contributor

March 2018

Johanna Hedva

Contributor

March 2018

JOHANNA HEDVA is the author of the novel, ON HELL. Their collection of poems and essays, MINERVA THE MISCARRIAGE...

Jonah

Fiction

Issue No. 21

Johanna Hedva

Fiction

Issue No. 21

After The Eliza Battle, I went to Berlin to recuperate, to nurse my pride. I had been there many times at that point, since...

READ NEXT

feature

Issue No. 16

Scroll, Skim, Stare

Orit Gat

feature

Issue No. 16

1.   This is an essay about contemporary art that includes no examples. It includes no examples because its...

Interview

January 2017

Interview with Barbara T. Smith

Ciara Moloney

Interview

January 2017

Californian artist Barbara T. Smith (b. 1931) is something of a performance art legend. It was in the 1960s...

poetry

May 2013

Ad Tertiam

Saskia Hamilton

poetry

May 2013

Rows of pines, planted years ago – so many, were you to count them on your fingers, you would...

 

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