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Skye Arundhati Thomas
Skye Arundhati Thomas is co-editor of The White Review.

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Interview with Bani Abidi

Interview

Issue No. 33

Skye Arundhati Thomas

Interview

Issue No. 33

In the three-minute short Mangoes (1999) by Berlin-based Pakistani artist Bani Abidi, two women sit next to each other on a white table, each with...

Art Review

February 2019

Simryn Gill, Soft Tissue

Skye Arundhati Thomas

Art Review

February 2019

I walked into Simryn Gill’s exhibition SOFT TISSUE at Jhaveri Contemporary on one of the worst days of an...

The day’s third hotel suite faced westwards across the harbour, its picture window looking down over the boats and yachts of the marina, up to the minarets and phone-masts of the old town No curtains or blinds; instead, a console set into the wall Routh touched an icon, and the boats and cupolas disappeared He touched it again and the minarets and phone-masts faded back in There again, gone again, in a slow-blinking eye Were there not responsibilities, Routh would have stayed there for hours, robed and tapping the console The things he could see, the things he would miss He stroked the console one last time The harbour looked gleeful in the evening light He took off his robe and walked to the bathroom   The bath was kidney-shaped, the colour of ewe’s milk, the walls tiled with what looked like flint The shower had room for two, the bath for three Another picture window, this time facing eastwards, looked out over the business district, its red-tipped towers, its white-light blinks, the names of banks as tall as cathedrals Routh turned off the water and climbed into the tub There were bubbles, so many bubbles, like a child’s wild dream Routh closed his eyes He relaxed The other suites – at the Juniper Sky Hotel and the Clavier – had disappointed: the Juniper’s decoration was too fussy for Menah’s taste, the Clavier’s rooms strangely narrow But the Excelsior would meet her expectations He could see Menah there, disrobing, bobbing in the water, lying back and closing her eyes   After nineteen minutes, Routh got out The key to success is practice and routine The longest Menah ever spent in the bath was nineteen minutes, the shortest sixteen He had asked her, years ago, to time her bathing She had been surprised to discover she had such an unconscious consistency, but he’d told her this was normal, that we know nothing of the rules that silently bind us: the internal timings, the very grammar of them Over the years of their association, he’d told her many things were normal, of which most, he

Contributor

February 2018

Skye Arundhati Thomas

Contributor

February 2018

Skye Arundhati Thomas is co-editor of The White Review.

Bani Abidi & Naeem Mohaiemen, I wish to let you fall out of my hands (Chapter 1)

Art Review

February 2018

Skye Arundhati Thomas

Art Review

February 2018

Loneliness is mostly narrative. It also has an aesthetic: an empty tableau in which the lonely act is performed. In Naeem Mohaiemen’s Tripoli Cancelled...
The characters in We That Are Young reside at ‘The Farm’ – a sprawling house in New Delhi complete with its own topiary of fat peacocks, bulbous pink flowers with English names, Fendi furniture, and a room in which it snows at the press of a button It’s not far removed from reality – Antilla, the world’s first billion-dollar residence for a single family of four, is a 40-storey building that towers over the suburbs of South Mumbai, replete with a staff of over 600 people, its own electrical power grid, ten-storey parking for a collection of unusable vintage cars, and a room, of course, where it snows on demand In dialogue with Shakespeare’s King Lear, Taneja’s debut novel explores the lives of a family that owns a multinational conglomerate, ‘The Company’, to which each character’s fate (and inheritance) is inextricably tied We have our patriarch, the Lear figure, Devraj; his three daughters Sita, Radha and Gargi; and his right-hand man Ranjit’s two sons, Jeet and Jivan The embarrassment of riches makes for an irresistible, if outlandish, setting; Taneja vividly indulges our intrigue in the way the rich conduct their daily lives, letting her words ooze out their luxury – filthy, yet so desirable After a particularly gruesome scene in which Radha administers the plucking out of a man’s eyes, she steps back into her suite and calls for a pot of first flush Assam, and rose macaroons   A reinterpretation of Shakespeare is the perfect postcolonial conquest: he remains the epitome of the Western canon, patriarchal, and repeatedly failing to include representations of the ‘other’ without recourse to parody Mainstream appropriations of Shakespeare in South Asia, such as Bollywood filmmaker Vishal Bharadwaj’s trilogy Maqbool (Macbeth), Omkara (Othello), and Haider (Hamlet), have generally taken us to rural settings, wherein tragedy is relegated to a matter of the lower castes Taneja, a Shakespearean academic and human rights activist, eschews such stereotypes, and goes straight for the jugular: the innate hypocrisy of the Indian class and caste system ‘It’s not about land, it’s about money,’ states the first line of the book, taking
Preti Taneja’s ‘We That Are Young’

Book Review

October 2017

Skye Arundhati Thomas


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fiction

Issue No. 14

Beetle

Joanna Kavenna

fiction

Issue No. 14

SKITAFLIT, DAY 49   704 Dawn Breaks above the grey-dusted grey-fronted houses 903 Well the office is looking just...

Art

Issue No. 8

A Fictive Retrospective of the Bruce High Quality Foundation

Legacy Russell

Art

Issue No. 8

Here are some details of art history that may or may not be true:   In 2008 I was...

feature

Issue No. 19

Editorial

The Editors

feature

Issue No. 19

‘A crisis becomes a crisis when the white male body is affected,’ writes the philosopher Rosi Braidotti, interviewed in...

 

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