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

Articles Available Online


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...

 1 PhD   Blue bedroom, Grandma’s house, Aigburth, Liverpool   I gave birth to one hundred thousand words Tessellated, affectless, still   I was in a pair of stirrups, draped in black Behind me were cascades of water and municipal marble, people sitting inanimately I printed me out on acetate for the overhead projector   Vagabond pronunciation, vigilant renunciation, off with her head   Brashness and redness and badness and rudeness and leaving and wasting and waste   Fat lowly bearable extrapolation, fine gradations of change   Grandma came in and turned the big light on, offered photographs Women in terracotta silk, cars parked outside garage doors, Mum shoving an apple in Jeremy’s mouth She put a cup of Douwe Egbert’s on the side Was I sad because I wanted a boyfriend? I turned away, rinsed in salt     Hornsey, London   Matthew was in the kitchen, glancing with accusation at a Bolognese tidemark in the sink His grey jogging bottoms were tucked under his heels, nestling in his arches He switched off the little lights underneath the kitchen cupboards and turned it into the sort of conversation that is a prelude to an unlit room I don’t like those sorts of conversation He wished me luck   On the train a little boy was talking at his dad, who was thumbing his screen with maniacal grace They started a game of what five things the little boy would put in his supermarket basket Cucumber, ice cream, tomato, all the puddings, and trifle   Lunch with Paul He kneaded his sandwich with his fingers It was doughy and airless at the perimeters and the butter and salmon fattened into triangular pouches, a sophisticated solution to refrigerated bread His teeth were translucent   We spoke for ninety minutes, the foetus on my lap He gave me a gift, his book I asked him if he wanted to sign it My cheeks were hot Let me look at it No I need to see it No Can’t you blog it?     Rose’s, Bristol   We went to a café in the rain Children ate sausages from Falcon enamel The goats at the petting zoo had their horns zapped off If Rose were an animal she would be a fox Not

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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feature

July 2013

Love Dog

Masha Tupitsyn

feature

July 2013

11 22 2011 – LOVE DOG     For months Hamlet has been floating around. Its book covers popping...

feature

February 2011

Novelty and revolt: why there is no such thing as a Twitter revolution

Nadia Khomami

feature

February 2011

The world is seeing an increase in the use of social media as a tool for mobilisation and protest....

Art

October 2015

Licence to Play

Thirza Wakefield

Art

October 2015

In his 1992 essay ‘In Search of the Centaur’, the writer and critic Phillip Lopate described the essay-film as...

 

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