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Rose McLaren

Rose McLaren is an artist in London.



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Talk Into My Bullet Hole

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July 2015

Rose McLaren

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July 2015

‘Someday people are going to read about you in a story or a poem. Will you describe yourself for those people?’ ‘Oh, I don’t...

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May 2014

Art Does Not Know a Beyond: On Karl Ove Knausgaard

Rose McLaren

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May 2014

Karl Ove Knausgaard’s My Struggle has an oddly medieval form: a cycle, composed of six auto-biographical books about the...

When King Carol II of Romania set foot on the tiny Danubian island of Ada Kaleh on 4 May 1931, it was said among the islanders that his arrival had been foretold in a dream The decisions he made after spending two hours there that summer evening were so momentous that his visit would later be marked with an annual festival   About a year into his reign, the king was touring the area and had decided to drop in on this most unusual corner of his realm The island lay in the region known as the Iron Gates, where the river passes through a series of gorges as it descends through the Carpathian Mountains It was a perilous place for river traffic, and boats travelling upstream had to be towed from the bank in order to overcome the current Just above the first set of rapids, on a bend in the river opposite the town of Orşova, stood Ada Kaleh The island was little more than a narrow strip of sandy soil about a mile long and 400 metres wide at its broadest The people on the river’s northern bank were Romanian and to the south Serbian, but the islanders themselves – who numbered about 680 at the time of the king’s visit – were Turks Framed against the dark flanks of the mountains that rose on each side of the Danube, Ada Kaleh’s poplars and chestnuts, the cypresses of its cemetery and the minaret of its mosque, seemed to float like a mirage on the water’s surface   The king – white military uniform dazzling in the sunshine – stepped from his boat at around five o’clock trailed by an entourage of more soberly clad bureaucrats, soldiers, and politicians At that time, the island’s flowers were in bloom, tumbling over the ramparts of the old fortress from which it took its name (ada kale meaning ‘island castle’ in Turkish) and bursting from the whitewashed petrol tins that stood in its cobbled streets The crumbling battlements glowed in the warm, sharp light of the late afternoon sun that broke through the scattered clouds,

Contributor

August 2014

Rose McLaren

Contributor

August 2014

Rose McLaren is an artist in London.

The Prosaic Sublime of Béla Tarr

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Issue No. 6

Rose McLaren

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Issue No. 6

I have to recognise it’s cosmical; the shit is cosmical. It’s not just social, it’s not just ontological, it’s really huge. And that’s why we...
Stalker, Writer or Professor? Geoff Dyer's Zona and Genre

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February 2012

Rose McLaren

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February 2012

‘So what kind of a writer am I, reduced to writing a summary of a film?’ wonders Geoff Dyer half way through Zona. Such...

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poetry

July 2011

Letter of a Madman

Guy de Maupassant

TR. Will Stone

poetry

July 2011

Introduction by the translator In the early hours of 2 January 1892, sensing the approach of insanity, the renowned...

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Issue No. 7

The White Review No. 7 Editorial

The Editors

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Issue No. 7

A few issues back we grandiosely stated ‘that it is more important now than ever to provide a forum...

poetry

January 2016

Two New Poems

Elena Fanailova

TR. Eugene Ostashevsky

poetry

January 2016

(POEM FOR ZHADAN)   This (my) country will be the death of you Its military mathematics Its secret services...

 

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