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

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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....

Hoda Barakat’s The Kingdom of this Earth turns to the history of Lebanese Maronite Christians, from the Mandate period to shortly before the outbreak of the Lebanese Civil War in the mid-1970s This scene, occurring very early in the novel, precedes a tragedy that will mark the family at the centre of the story, whose history of village pre-eminence puts them at the centre of local rivalries around class, land ownership, water rights, and gender politics The ancestral past remains part of the present, as the children of Muzawwaq struggle to make their future in a society of close ties and deep rifts   — M B         A shower of wet snow The snowflakes were beginning to stick, forming white patches that spread and thickened across the terrain The horizon line between the greyness of the skies and the white ground was blurred now   The bitter edge of the blustery cold softened as the fog dropped over the land, thick as a felt saddle blanket The mountain paths and ravines were no longer distinguishable, making it impossible to guess how much distance remained ahead Features of the landscape known popularly as the Frenchmen’s Chamber, Deaf-mute’s Crevice, St Severin’s Elbow, the Cross of the Sacred Heart, had all vanished After Patriarch’s Point the entire expanse of these heights was submerged in the sour gummy milk Overhead, winds whirling and pounding as though powerful water currents were ravining the skies changed course suddenly, a fierce onrush whipping across the ground to prevent him moving forward   He got off his horse He pulled the saddlebags of lentils off the horse’s back and tossed them to the ground but he kept the sacks of wheat and hay where they were He opened the blade of his penknife and slashed open a sack of hay, bringing it up to the horse’s head But his beloved horse didn’t plunge her snout into the sack She would not eat Mubaraka, eat! For the love of the Virgin, eat – it will give your legs more strength We don’t have a choice, Mubaraka We have to go on   The horse stared

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...

READ NEXT

feature

Issue No. 1

On the Notoriously Overrated Powers of Voice in Fiction or How To Fail At Talking To Pretty Girls

D. W. Wilson

feature

Issue No. 1

On a Tuesday afternoon in July, not too long ago, a friend of mine struck a pose imitating a...

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...

feature

Issue No. 15

A Weekend With My Own Death

Gabriela Wiener

TR. Lucy Greaves

feature

Issue No. 15

We all have tombs from which we travel. To reach mine I have to get a lift with some...

 

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