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The White Review
No. 29

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The White Review No. 29 features interviews with poet Fanny Howe, novelist and memoirist Scholastique Mukasonga and artist Ingrid Pollard, who also provides the...

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The White Review Poet's Prize 2020
The White Review Poet’s Prize 2020 is now open for entries. The Poet’s Prize was founded in 2017 with support from Jerwood Charitable Foundation, and is for English-language poets...

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fiction

‘Like a pope, at the edge of the well’

Fiction

January 2021

Veronica Stigger

TR. Zoë Perry

Fiction

January 2021

A selection of short pieces by Veronica Stigger   The Bridge   Todo empezó como una broma. When Pedro realised that he’d been living...

Fiction

December 2020

The Custard Factory

Camilla Grudova

Fiction

December 2020

The explosion happened one mid-morning at the Swan Custard Factory. A dust-cloud of cornstarch was ignited, blowing off the...

Fiction

December 2020

Distancing

Jacinda Townsend

Fiction

December 2020

Ruth held out her gloved hands to Clarisse, wiggled her latex-coated fingers. ‘No risk,’ she said, pointing to the...

Fiction

October 2020

Mother and Sven

Line Kallmayer

Fiction

October 2020

  1   Her mother calls. Sven is in hospital and he is not coming back. He will most...

Fiction

September 2020

Deep Brown, Verging on Black

Norman Erikson Pasaribu

TR. Tiffany Tsao

Fiction

September 2020

He turns around and stares straight at me.   We’re walking up the long road leading to his house....

Fiction

July 2020

Caspian Tiger

Judith Schalansky

TR. Jackie Smith

Fiction

July 2020

Ancient Rome CASPIAN TIGER Panthera tigris virgata, also known as Persian, Mazandaran, Hyrcanian and Turanian tiger   * It...
Bright Spaces

Fiction

June 2020

Vanessa Onwuemezi

Fiction

June 2020

The cat’s paws brush through the letterbox, looking for some jellied meat or an opening in the family. Cat pushes a letter through the...
Thanks for joining us today Please, take some time to catch your breath Had you been running to get where you now are?   Just give me a minute I’m such an idiot, I came this close to missing my flight You can’t see, I’m marking a sliver with my index and thumb I arrived at the airport well in advance, strolled towards the departure lounge, telling myself I could take my time They’ve redone that bit when you get through the security checks, to make it just like all the other airports around the world The long snaking path forces you to walk by all the boutiques, where shop attendants hold out trays with perfume samples or plastic cups with shots of whisky It was 10 am, my stomach felt sick at the thought I remember looking up at the sign marked ESCAPE LOUNGE, thinking to myself, escape, yes please, that’s what I’d like to do I was drifting slowly, zoning out, under the glare of the artificial light, the clashing rhythms of the different pop songs as

Prize Entry

May 2020

Questionnaire

Ewan Gass

Prize Entry

May 2020

Thanks for joining us today. Please, take some time to catch your breath. Had you been running to get...

My job during the war was to administer beatings This didn’t make me better than anyone else, particularly not the people I beat To ensure that I never forgot this, I was periodically beaten myself I, Laura Grimsey, a White, beaten quite roughly but within official boundaries by a Brown A team of Browns was retained expressly for this purpose: to beat the beaters   I celebrated my two-year work anniversary the week the war circus arrived This was by chance also the ten-year anniversary of the war effort itself The economy was soaring To celebrate in a traditional manner, the Bureau had received a shipment of commemorative tin helmets and tin flasks, and at the entrance to the war circus’s big top tent, spectators were handed tiny tin keyrings fashioned in the shape of a nuclear warhead with every circus programme Whites and Browns flocked to the war circus together, flush with anniversary bonuses and promotions In tribute to the unsinkable camaraderie of our army, the Whites and Browns bought each other pails of popcorn from the clown shuffling between the stands with a plastic tube of fluffy kernels braced like a sandbag across her shoulders   #   The War Machine Speaks with a Liquorice Tongue   Immigration, boy Can’t fault the Browns, far better off as they were loping through deserts and savannahs Hunting that big game under their own God-given sun Unafraid of what sails down from the sky But here we are Here we are We can only get on with it Come together, all of us patriots White Brown No matter We know our bombs the way we know our lovers The Annabelle The Betsy The Claudette In the armament factories we bellow out love songs Hands percuss metal shells We forget whose voice is White Whose Brown We’re lucky to have steady jobs What’s more, bonuses Britain Britain First Britain first  

Prize Entry

May 2020

Sweet Sting

Sara Saab

Prize Entry

May 2020

My job during the war was to administer beatings. This didn’t make me better than anyone else, particularly not...
Woman with a White Pekingese

Prize Winner

Issue No. 29

Elizabeth O’Connor

Prize Winner

Issue No. 29

The women in her family have always shown dogs. They keep pictures of the dogs on the wall beside the staircase, a line-up in...

 

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