Oh yes, you’re having a great time. You’re drunk again. You’re lying very still in the dark in a rented apartment in downtown New York City and suffering from all sorts of decadent ills. Summer in this romantic, filthy city is oppressive and congested but you endure it oddly, madly, feverishly even.
New Grub Street – Part I, Chapter 7'Marian's Home'
Three weeks after her return from the country – which took place a week later than that of Jasper Milvain – Marian Yule was working one afternoon at her usual place in the Museum Reading-room. It was three o’clock, and with the interval of half an hour at midday, when she went away for a cup of tea and a sandwich, she had been closely occupied since half-past nine.
After one thousand years of sleep Brutus wakes in furs under a blood red moon in his high castle. His servant Halford carries the Count’s mahogany coffin to the high-vaulted antechamber and prepares a feast of pigeon gizzards and sour goat’s milk sauté with chilled owl’s blood to wash it down.
I’m sorry Dora, I was asleep. I never would have done it to you if I was awake. This is what I told her. When she sleeps she isn’t there. I don’t feel a warm presence next to me. She doesn’t dream. She barely breathes. I remember pulling her into me when she wasn’t so cold to touch.
We’re excited to announce our program of Late Night Library events for City of Sydney. Join us at Haymarket Library for a lot of fun, creativity, and a spot of ranting, at the following free events:
Wednesday 3 September, 8–9pm Got something to get off your chest? Then get up on that soapbox! Join professional ranters, writers and comedians as they tell us what they really think. Hosted by David Henley, who may have a few grievances of his own to share, and featuring Benjamin Law, Lauren Beukes, Alice Fraser and David Hunt. Book here.
On the last day of his freedom, the great Grygory Vrevca went to visit his daughter. The authorities had traced him to the basement of a building in Prague, a damp apartment with bare brick walls below a hosiery shop. The police surrounded the place, but Grygory predictably escaped – he and his bodyguard Kovac knocked through the ceiling, prized up the floorboards, and swung themselves into a scattering of startled customers in the shop above. He bought a pair of the best silk stockings for his daughter then walked calmly out of the shop, right past a line of officers who were watching their colleagues hack through the apartment door with an axe.
Burying PabloStories of Sydney
By Stephen Pham
I slip on a white shirt just as the phone starts buzzing. It’s mum. She says, ‘The cat just died.’
I reply in Vietnamese. ‘Huh? Happened which that – no have thing, child come down now. Mother don’t do thing stop, okay?’
She agrees and hangs up. I do up my shirt. My fingers fumble with each button. When I’m done, I head down to Newtown station and catch the next train to Cabramatta. It’s a tin can, with doors that rattle open. I step inside and it smells like sweat. I go downstairs, tiptoeing my way through the spilled coffee on the floor, and pick a shady seat. I look out the water-stained window and, as I get further away from the city, the people standing on the platform become less young and more colourful.
Viva La Novella 3 is Open!Come ye merry writers
Today we announce that submissions are open for our Viva La Novella 3 competition. Once again we are inviting authors from Australia and New Zealand to submit manuscripts of between fifteen and fifty thousand words for the opportunity to win $1000 and a publishing deal with Seizure.