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Kaleem Hawa

Kaleem Hawa has written about art, film, and literature for the New York Review of Books, The Nation, and Artforum, among others.



Articles Available Online


Hating it Lush: On Tel Aviv

Essay

May 2023

Kaleem Hawa

Essay

May 2023

I   They made the desert bloom, tall sparkling towers and clean Bauhaus lines, and apple-ring acacias, and teal blue shuttle buses, and stock...

Poetry

Issue No. 28

Three poems from issue 28

Sarah Barnsley

Valzhyna Mort

Kaleem Hawa

Poetry

Issue No. 28

Valzhyna Mort, ‘Music for Girl’s Voice and Bison’   Sarah Barnsley, ‘Virginia Woolf Has Fallen Over’   Kaleem Hawa,...

 I Two moments in May May 2, 2011 The novelists Siri Hustvedt and Céline Curiol are giving a talk at Shakespeare and Company in Paris The shop is filled to bursting, and the audience spills onto the sidewalk outside The topic of their discussion, they announce, is the ‘strange bias against fiction in general and fiction by women in particular’ Men don’t read books by women, they lament; women’s writing seems only to appeal to other women ‘Would you have written the same book if you were a man?’ Curiol reports having been asked on numerous occasions The question, she implies, has become so banal as hardly to be worth answering: ‘Yes, no, maybe,’ she says Both authors dismiss the idea that men write as men, and women write as women ‘Novels do not have a gender,’ says Curiol One audience member, an emissary from the French feminist group La Barbe (‘The Beard’) berates them, quite aggressively, for turning literature into a battlefield Hustvedt protests: ‘You’ve misunderstood entirely what we were trying to say’ Meanwhile the bookshop’s owner, Sylvia Whitman, shakes her head in bafflement as she’s asked to account for the actual ratio of male to female authors on the shop’s shelves   May 20, 2011 I’m at an academic conference in Paris A graduate student gives a paper on a novel about partition by the Pakistani writer Bapsi Sidhwa, making what seems to me to be an innocuous yet perceptive argument on the vexing ways in which gender and colonialism intersect in the novel During the discussion period, the student is dressed down by the two (female) faculty members chairing the panel ‘Do you really think Sidhwa has anything to say about partition that’s different from Salman Rushdie just because she’s a woman?’ The student is silent ‘Don’t work only on women’s writing,’ one professor, a placid blond with an immobile page boy haircut counsels her ‘That goes for all of you,’ she says ‘It’s been done, and by people much older than you It’s over Find something else to work on’   I’m gobsmacked I’ve just defended my PhD on British women’s

Contributor

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa

Contributor

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa has written about art, film, and literature for the New York Review of Books, The Nation, and...

after Mahmoud Darwish    Why is a boy an exclamation,  and why are his dead a period?,  why do his sinews tighten when he sees  a Palestinian body? Does his vision narrow  because of their flight,  or because their world is raining with salt?  Why is a boy with a gun different  from a boy with a jail cell?,  if the tools of rupture are our arms for  repurposing the body, and the arms of  the state are our means of repurposing the male,  are we finally useful and breathing and nervous…?  Does the white mean Night’s arrival?,  or does night signal the white’s escape?,  and when that white city boy becomes  a White City man,  does the hate in his heart subside?,  or does it become an ellipses,  a Bauhaus history of stories started  and left unfinished 
You Arrive at A White Checkpoint and Emerge Unscathed

Prize Entry

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa


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Art

Issue No. 6

Interview with Edmund de Waal

Emmeline Francis

Art

Issue No. 6

As we speak, Edmund de Waal, ceramicist and writer, moves his palms continually over the surface of the trestle...

Feature

November 2017

Small White Monkeys

Sophie Collins

Feature

November 2017

Small white monkeys stretch around in the dirt beneath a tree but do not get dirty. They pick themselves...

fiction

April 2014

Biophile

Ruby Cowling

fiction

April 2014

– I’m down maybe five feet. I take a moment to thank the leaf-filled rectangle of sky, and with...

 

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