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Rosanna Mclaughlin
Rosanna Mclaughlin is an editor at The White Review.

Articles Available Online


The Pious and the Pommery

Essay

Issue No. 18

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Essay

Issue No. 18

I.   Where is the champagne? On second thoughts this is not entirely the right question. The champagne is in the ice trough, on...

Essay

April 2019

Ariana and the Lesbian Narcissus

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Essay

April 2019

‘Avoid me not!’ ‘Avoid me not!’                                   Narcissus   Let me describe a GIF I’ve been watching. A lot....

Listen to the silence, let it ring on (Joy Division, Transmission) I It is not yet dawn The city is a distant murmur Laid out on the desk before him are the tools of his nightly excursions, boxed in metal, wired together, patiently waiting He places the headphones over his ears, flicks the switch at the side of the machine Outside, through the window, he can see no people, no passing cars It is raining Clouds turn queasily in the sky A bird begins singing, somewhere out of sight   The first rush of sound welcomes him back; that familiar fuzz of static that sluices through his ears, engulfs his brain, and plunges him into the flux He reaches for the dial and brushes its ridged edge with his fingertips, letting his ears adjust to the nuances of the night Hiss Crackle Warmth Wondering briefly what he is about to discover, if anything, he closes his eyes Sometimes the nights are barren, sometimes not   Rain falls more heavily, patters against the window with a sound like soft applause A quick bite of his lip, a scratch of his neck Everything is ready He turns on the tape machine, presses Record The heads spin in their plastic window     2   Lightning whitens the road for an epileptic second Pavements, cars, gutters and shops: everything’s bleached by the light ‘That’s what, the hundredth time this hour?   Jimmy smiles   The café is the only place open along this long, dark, featureless road, and it’s packed People are loitering among the tables in clothes so wet that liquid shadows are gathering around their feet None of them wants to be marooned in this low-lit, white-tiled little place on a Friday night But here they are, imprisoned by falling water   ‘Is your phone still fucked?’ I ask   Everything stopped working once the storm began Mobiles, the internet, the wall-mounted TV: all of them paralysed The only means of communication with the outside world – albeit one-way

Contributor

July 2016

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Contributor

July 2016

Rosanna Mclaughlin is an editor at The White Review.

Ten Years at Garage Moscow

Art Review

November 2018

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Art Review

November 2018

When I arrive in Moscow, I am picked up from the airport by Roman, a patriotic taxi driver sent to collect me courtesy of...
Becoming Alice Neel

Art

August 2017

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Art

August 2017

From the first time I saw Alice Neel’s portraits, I wanted to see the world as she did. Neel was the Matisse of the...

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Interview

July 2013

Interview with Paul Muldoon

Alice Whitwham

Interview

July 2013

A major figure in English-language poetry for decades, Paul Muldoon has enjoyed one of the most successful careers of...

poetry

September 2016

Two Poems

Sun Yung Shin

poetry

September 2016

  Autoclonography   for performance   In 1998, scientists in South Korea claimed to have successfully cloned a human...

Interview

May 2015

Interview with Catherine Lacey

Will Chancellor

Interview

May 2015

Catherine Lacey is a writer who came to New York by way of Tupelo, Mississippi. She is a New...

 

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