Burn. The sight of beauty sets me on fire. I once read of the burning tremor of fear which the lover will suffer when the eye perceives a likeness of eternal beauty. Burn. To read Daniela Cascella …

He was born under a cold star. He was told by his mother that she looked out of the window and saw it burning like polished metal, greater than the others in the constellations around it, and that …

Burn. The sight of beauty sets me on fire. I once read of the burning tremor of fear which the lover will suffer when the eye perceives a likeness of eternal beauty. Burn. To read Daniela Cascella …

Burn. The sight of beauty sets me on fire. I once read of the burning tremor of fear which the lover will suffer when the eye perceives a likeness of eternal beauty. Burn. To read Daniela Cascella …

minor literatures ; stuttering cultures. Click to read minor literature[s], a Substack publication with thousands of subscribers.

Denise Rose Hansen is a London-based Danish writer, editor, and founder of the independent press Lolli Editions. Her recent novel, Blue Sunset, is forthcoming from the Dorothy Project. The novel gi…

Denise Rose Hansen is a London-based Danish writer, editor, and founder of the independent press Lolli Editions. Her recent novel, Blue Sunset, is forthcoming from the Dorothy Project. The novel gi…

But even though Hugh’s desire to flee his WG meant that he arrived at the Vibe Check a full 20 minutes earlier than expected, his many, more dedicated-to-the-cult-of-Ramesses colleagues were earlie…

Introduction — David Vichnar Dragan Aleksić’s year in Prague (1920–21) is one of those compressed episodes in avantgarde history where several circuits suddenly touch & spark.† Arriving in Octo…

The chair on the flat roof has created an indent on the melting tarmac during the heatwave. The chair is sinking. I sit on the chair and read most weekday evenings. We are sinking: me, the book, th…

The chair on the flat roof has created an indent on the melting tarmac during the heatwave. The chair is sinking. I sit on the chair and read most weekday evenings. We are sinking: me, the book, th…

Jean Echenoz opens his tribute to his longtime editor and publisher, with an account that many other hopeful, and perhaps naïve, would-be authors might know well.  It is 1979, he has just turn…

Jean Echenoz opens his tribute to his longtime editor and publisher, with an account that many other hopeful, and perhaps naïve, would-be authors might know well.  It is 1979, he has just turn…

Jean Echenoz opens his tribute to his longtime editor and publisher, with an account that many other hopeful, and perhaps naïve, would-be authors might know well.  It is 1979, he has just turn…

I. To hold the relic is to hold a small, silver cylinder of contained space. Suspended from a coiled rope chain, the object rests against the skin, rising and falling with my breath. A pendant that…

I. To hold the relic is to hold a small, silver cylinder of contained space. Suspended from a coiled rope chain, the object rests against the skin, rising and falling with my breath. A pendant that…

I. To hold the relic is to hold a small, silver cylinder of contained space. Suspended from a coiled rope chain, the object rests against the skin, rising and falling with my breath. A pendant that…

I. To hold the relic is to hold a small, silver cylinder of contained space. Suspended from a coiled rope chain, the object rests against the skin, rising and falling with my breath. A pendant that…

By the wine-press house, the road turns offto the right, I see low village roofs through the mountains, on roads burnished blue,I’m a stranger here, for I intrude no one in sight, only acacias, vin…

Emma is four, just old enough to stand on her tippy toes, brace herself against the door and turn the little nipple of the lock to the right, thankful that it doesn’t make a sound. Slowly she slide…

By the wine-press house, the road turns offto the right, I see low village roofs through the mountains, on roads burnished blue,I’m a stranger here, for I intrude no one in sight, only acacias, vin…

By the wine-press house, the road turns offto the right, I see low village roofs through the mountains, on roads burnished blue,I’m a stranger here, for I intrude no one in sight, only acacias, vin…

Adrian Duncan is a Berlin-based writer whose novels are often influenced by his upbringing in Ireland, as well as his formal education and decade of experience as an engineer. His most recent novel…

Adrian Duncan is a Berlin-based writer whose novels are often influenced by his upbringing in Ireland, as well as his formal education and decade of experience as an engineer. His most recent novel…

Adrian Duncan is a Berlin-based writer whose novels are often influenced by his upbringing in Ireland, as well as his formal education and decade of experience as an engineer. His most recent novel…

I’ve been using bibliomancy to start my days. I pull a book at random and open it. Patricia Highsmith’s diary from Dec. 31, 1947: “My New Year’s Toast: to all the devils, lusts, passions, gre…

I’ve been using bibliomancy to start my days. I pull a book at random and open it. Patricia Highsmith’s diary from Dec. 31, 1947: “My New Year’s Toast: to all the devils, lusts, passions, gre…

You said: I’m still here. I just don’t know what to say. But two weeks later, you were gone. And now I sit, words turned stale upon the page. Seems I’ve been here for months, rending sentences into…

What is a mother? A mother is someone who puts plasters on knees and hearts. Your first cradle. Your confessional. Your ally against the world. A warm embrace. Someone who sings away trolls. Someon…

What is a mother? A mother is someone who puts plasters on knees and hearts. Your first cradle. Your confessional. Your ally against the world. A warm embrace. Someone who sings away trolls. Someon…

What is a mother? A mother is someone who puts plasters on knees and hearts. Your first cradle. Your confessional. Your ally against the world. A warm embrace. Someone who sings away trolls. Someon…