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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....

To Lilia Lardone Summer was ending The air already smelled like smoke, but it still looked clear, sunny The women swept their sidewalks and burned the first dry leaves on the corners When classes began, so did the girls’ fifteenth birthday parties It hadn’t been long since I’d seen my first dead body Tolchi Pereno threw herself under the train because she was pregnant We sat at the same desk, and during geography class she burst out crying, though no one had said anything to her Blanquita Calzolari had called on Tano Buriolo to present his homework, and Tano tried to explain that thing about meridians and parallels They say that meridians are lines that divide the world into halves, Tano said, and Blanquita Calzolari agreed   They say that the two halves are equal and the dividing line is a very fine line, so fine that you can’t see it, Tano said, and Blanquita Calzolari agreed They say that the parallels are the same lines, but in reverse They say that if you change hemispheres and you pass over a meridian or parallel, it sends shivers down your back Blanquita Calzolari lifted her gaze, her eyes suddenly alert   Who says that? she asked   Tano Buriolo retorted immediately, The wise say so   No, that’s wrong, Blanquita Calzolari declared Return to your seat Then Tolchi Pereno burst out crying Blanquita looked at her and asked what happened   Nothing happened, Tolchi said I’m having a nervous attack, that’s all, she said, and started to scream and took my hand, which was next to hers, and rested my hand on her chest   Feel this, feel this, she said Feel how my nerves are turning over inside   I noticed the edge of her bra under her knit sweater and something like termites over Tolchi’s heart I blushed   Go drink a glass of water and come back, Blanquita Calzolari said   Tolchi let my hand go and kept hiccupping in silence, sitting on her bench We looked at her She got up and left and returned after a while with red eyes and a swollen face Early that evening, she threw herself under

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

August 2017

Interview with Ottessa Moshfegh

Yen Pham

Interview

August 2017

Ottessa Moshfegh’s first two books are, as she tells me, very different from one another. But despite the contrast...

poetry

September 2012

Moscow - Petrozavodsk

Maxim Osipov

Anne Marie Jackson

poetry

September 2012

  Mark well, O Job, hold thy peace, and I will speak. Job 33:31     To deliver man...

feature

Issue No. 11

Climate Science

McKenzie Wark

feature

Issue No. 11

Welcome to the Anthropocene, that planetary tempo in which all the metabolic rhythms of the world start dancing to...

 

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