Books

A canary flies in Golestan Palace of the Qajars in Tehran, IF, unfolding through fragmented, interwoven narratives that consider the possibility of a bird narrating what it sees: three famines forced upon Iran; the forced unveiling of women; the partitioning of the country between dominant powers; and the nationalization of oil leading to the coup against Mohammad Mosaddegh all appear as fragments left unresolved rather than explained, as if the bird were saying: you will not understand me, let’s keep it that way.

This pamphlet is a section of a longer book that moves across a specific historical juncture in Iran, from the Iranian Constitutional Revolution (1906–1911) to 1953, when a joint CIA–MI6 coup d’état disrupted and set back years of gradual effort toward democracy and independence in Iran. Much like the rest of Mosadeq’s work, this piece is shaped by misunderstanding, distance, and misreading. IF, mirroring the territory it explores, resists a coherent narrative.

STARTING POINT: ALL GROUPS HAVE AN UNCONSCIOUS

This project developed from a shared experience: groups we believe should exist and succeed, from mutual aid collectives to communist cadres, struggle with difficult and often unexamined inter-psychic group dynamics. We take it as a starting point that groups, by their very nature, elicit and enact painful and confusing states, like over-dependence on a leader or fear of contamination. We believe that these dynamics play out beneath the surface and alongside whatever the group is trying to do together. In other words, any group, like any individual, has an unconscious.

OUR BIG QUESTION: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR GROUPS DOING POLITICAL WORK?

Groups break down for all kinds of reasons; political organizing is often brutal, exhausting, disappointing work. Feelings of heartbreak and betrayal, resentment and shame, are common. These can be painful, difficult aspects of group life to discuss. They are also often dismissed as ancillary to the real work of political struggle, especially in times of unabating crisis, genocide, and war.

Although interpersonal drama can be taken up in excess–and distract from our work–group dynamics are not mere distraction, and our hesitations about discussing them do not make them disappear. Ironically, in fact, when groups treat relational dynamics as merely superficial or deleterious, they often wind up mired in confusion about what any given internal conflict is “really” about. Often the confusion is posed as not being able to discern what is interpersonal strife and what is political disagreement—an aggravating situation that, we’ve observed, comes up constantly in groups’ narration of their own breakdown. There are no easy formulas for working through these dimensions of group life, but we believe that being undisciplined about them makes it harder for groups to work together productively—or, for that matter, to separate “well.” This pamphlet offers concepts and questions that you can bring to your own group to perform a group inquiry, to think about what might be happening below the surface.

Groups Group is a collective of clinicians, organizers, writers, artists, and scholars interested in group dynamics in the everyday life of all forms of left social movements. We also do internal process work, popular education, and consult with groups.

To be in a group is to submit to a form of disorganizing organization that hangs on careful balance: to be devoted to a collective without being engulfed, to be disciplined by it without sleepwalking to the tune of a leader’s will, to integrate without dissolving into it. As infants born into a sexual union from which we are then necessarily excluded, the yields and limits of assembly are evident from the outset. Before we arrived in the bloc, we lived our lives in other groups: the family, the religious order, the cafeteria table clique. You can sit with us. You can’t. Some groups we remember entering. Others we didn’t elect, but deselected.

As a form of critique whose object of analysis is suffering, psychoanalysis understands the pains of the group. Its full task is to make sense of them as a condition of the many as much as of the one. As the psychoanalyst Didier Anzieu glosses the problem of thinking about groups, the “commonplace” assumption is that the group “is a pooling, a sharing” through which “the energies, enthusiasm and capacities of individuals who freely assent to the discipline of the group” coalesce into a unified forcefield. Yet, as Anzieu stresses, this idealized description eats itself. It collapses union with sharing, with collectivity. We know that groups rely on sharing. He asks, “a sharing of what?”

Psychoanalytic cults. Cowboy churches. The Epstein Class. Iranian monarchists. Fascist liberals. Clinics and their radicals. Discipline and holding. Getting together, falling apart.

Essays by Séamus Malekafzali, Tracy McNulty, Richard Seymour, Zahid Chaudhary, Danny Hayward, Eri Linsker, hannah baer, and more.

I Remember Nightfall, the first comprehensive collection of Uruguayan poet Marosa di Giorgio’s work to be published in English translation, is made up of her first four book-length poems: The History of Violets (1965); Magnolia (1968); The War of the Orchards (1971); and The Native Garden is in Flames (1975). Di Giorgio’s writing transforms everything it touches—a lily, a head, a hare, a ghost, a porcelain cup. All becomes beautifully and violently intertwined, dead and alive. Boundaries are blurred: an eagle drinks tea with a mother, a flower puts on the longest pearl necklace or kills you. Di Giorgio’s obsessive, magical gardens serve as a stage for the ongoing encounter of nature and the supernatural. These serial prose poems explore memory, family relationships, erotic desire, and war, animating a world that is always on the verge of explosion.

Marosa di Giorgio was born in Salto, Uruguay, and raised on her family’s farm. Di Giorgio (1932-2004) is one of the most prominent Uruguayan poets of the twentieth century. She began writing in her childhood and published her first book of poems at the age of twenty-two. She then went on to publish a total of fourteen books of poetry, three collections of short stories, and one novel. While some critics have categorized her as a surrealist, she herself denied membership in any literary movement or school. Although she was relatively unknown outside the Southern Cone during her lifetime, she is now becoming more and more widely read throughout Latin America and Europe.

This is a bilingual edition, with cover art by Basil King.

The fourth volume of a new series of publications by the collective Wages For Wages Against, acting for better work conditions in the visual arts and against all forms of discrimination, on the topics of accessibility in the arts and ableism.

Wages For Wages Against has been doing pioneering work for the fair remuneration of artists in Switzerland since 2017. It is committed to social and economic justice for all artists. This volume brings together texts by artists who create spaces—fields of possibility. Texts that seek to amplify moments of struggle and negotiation. Texts that speak of interdependence, trauma and adaptations. Texts driven by a desire and a sense of urgency to address the accessibility of spaces where art is created and experienced.

Wages For Wages Against (WFWA, wfwa.ch) is a a militant collective and a campaign for the fair remuneration of artists in Switzerland, better work conditions, and an alternative economy of the arts.

Edited by Wages For Wages Against.
Contributions by Michaëla Danjé, Quiplash, Park MacArthur, Lari Medawar & Ostensible, Sabrina Röthlisberger Belkacem.

First Meeting is the first monograph on Argentinian artist Santiago de Paoli. Covering de Paoli’s oeuvre from his early, experimental projects to his most recent explorations, the book delves into his innovative approach of painting on unconventional materials, from plaster to bread, felt to canvas, aluminum to wool, and socks to fur. It features newly commissioned essays by Fernanda Brenner, and Mariano Mayer, as well as a conversation between Christian Rattemeyer and the artist.

Fiction Non Fiction is a series of readers that pairs voices in literary criticism with the material histories of labor, gender, and race. Each volume proposes a close-reading of fictitious and theoretical works to explore how identity politics have been narrativized by liberal institutions across space and time.

Volume II, published on the occasion of Belas Artes, Bruno Zhu’s exhibition at CAM – Centro de Arte Moderna Gulbenkian, Lisbon, is anchored by the centrality of how one looks. Ranging from domestic scenes in the female-owned prazos of Zambezi Valley, the trade of Indian calico, the 19th century British Nonconformist campaign in Southern Tswana, and accounts of Chinese workers by writer Eça de Queiroz, this reader surveys the role of dress in colonial and postcolonial contexts.

Featuring contributions by Jean Comaroff, Simon Gikandi, Stuart Hall, Kate Haulman, Eugénia Rodrigues, Regina A. Root, Victoria L. Rovine, and José Carvalho Vanzelli, Volume II addresses how fashion facilitated idealized images of the Other to serve the unity of the colonial topos.

How to See Rivers in Cracks, an invitation to read through softness rather than certainty. It begins where attention loosens, where listening lingers, and where small cracks let the world in.

Written as a shifting sequence of notes, exercises, and reflections, the publication moves through Moerwijk, The Hague, Antwerp, and in-between spaces, tracing how soil, sound, and urban surfaces remain porous and in constant transformation. Cracks are not treated as damage but as openings where relation becomes visible~ where matter, bodies, and environments co-compose one another.

The text resists a fixed interpretation. Instead, it unfolds as an instruction that can be followed, misread, or left open. In this sense, it does not hold itself steady. Without the reader, it does not fully take place, remaining dependent on attention, proximity, and the act of reading itself.

toi, moi, la pluie is a sequence of cards that can be assembled into three-dimensional configurations. The cards present two sides of the same moment: rain falling outdoors, and an art exhibition taking place indoors.

With humour and a sense of casual abandon, Sara Graça reduces the exhibition space to a dry place offering shelter from the rain. Despite a moment of intense intimacy—a passionate kiss—the space is largely inhabited by figures who do not seem to know one another, or to get along. The same kiss takes place outdoors; lovers, after all, do not care about the weather. Drawn in a caricatural style, recalling Ad Reinhardt’s How to Look series, these characters speak English, French, and Portuguese. We cannot tell whether they are visiting or staying; we do not know where they are.

The cards are accompanied by a small cut-out horse that can also be assembled and added. A memory of a past life, a lingering presence, a sense of “other”, the horse becomes the final piece of the puzzle. It acts as an exclamation point to these otherwise trivial human exchanges—cutting across inside and outside, shelter and rain, intimacy, cohabitation, and distance.

The publication is disguised as a book, revealing its playful nature only once opened, and inviting the reader to assemble, rearrange, and make choices of their own.

Sara Graça (Lisbon, 1993) lives in London and works in interdisciplinary ways, mainly using sculpture, drawing, photography and video. Her practice often questions ideas of value, authenticity and impermanence.

All copies are numbered & signed.

In Arabic, the word for love حب is one letter shorter than the word for war حرب

Here, translators gather to perform an intimate labour, moving words from Arabic into English, or reversing such direction as language dissolves into cities, landscapes, or portals that open to rubble, or only air.

These poems reverberate in the space between there and here, silence and voice, original and translation, and the polarities of war and love.

George Abraham, Eman Abukhadra, Omar Aljaffal, Norah Alkharashi, Lamia Abbas Amara, Nour Balousha, Samar Diab, Najlaa Osman Eltom, Miled Faiza (& Karen McNeil), Zeena Faulk, Ibrahim Fawzy, Daad Haddad, Yasmine Haj, Mayada Ibrahim, Rana Issa, Ali Mahmoud Khudayyir, Hiba Moustafa, Suneela Mubayi, Mariam Naji, Ibrahim Nasrallah, Nashwa Nasreldin, Kamal Nasser, Nofel, Qasim Saudi, Lena Khalaf Tuffaha, & Fadwa Tuqan.

May the poems gathered here––in translation, and in their original voice––spark introspection, remedy, and acts of imagination in between. ––Yasmine Haj, “To Speak to Each Other” (introduction)

trace: translating [x] invites readers to think about writing, place, and community; and to consider what is gained, lost, or missing, in processes of translation.

It is 1974. American and English expatriates, artists, writers, and eccentrics find their home in a quiet town on the island of Crete. Among them is Horace Vaughn, a sixty-five-year-old gay American writer who has long been at work on Household Gods, his attempt at the Great American Novel, and who in the meantime supports himself by dashing off detective stories.

Horace’s young Greek lover often annoys him, provides little satisfaction, and Horace idles his time away with alcohol, friends, and machinations. That is, until a young, enigmatic nineteen-year-old American woman named Helen arrives, another outsider. In Helen, Horace discovers someone brilliant, beautiful, and stubbornly mysterious. He is fascinated by her punk style and elusive pose. In this small town, gossip spreads fast, and Helen’s past begins to follow her to Crete: a suicidal ex-lover appears without warning, and there are whispers of her long-dead sister. The Henry Moore crowd dislike her, and a Greek waiter’s wife threatens to murder her.

When Helen vanishes, Horace is determined to follow her, to find her, especially her diary. His journey around Crete in his beat-up VW bug is funny and poignant, and for Horace, the mystery continues.

Sea-oath is a catalog of internal and generational mythologies, a procedural formalist poetic experiment, and a transcript of an internal trial between the speaker and God. 

Alter approaches the central theological reckoning of the collection through constructed metrical forms, neologistic indexing, and paratactic syntax in an attempt to articulate and organize memories and histories that had originally been buried by dissociation, self-punishment, and mental and physical escape. 

What kind of God permits and witnesses the cyclical transmission of suffering, and how can I understand my life and my path within my inheritance?

And death shall have no dominion / Killing ‘The Mother’ charts death inside healthcare bureaucracy through brutal, surreal and fragmentary poetic prose, grappling with the capitalist devastation of systems of social care and how writing might enact forms of conception in the face of such conditions. Victoria Guerrero-Peirano has been recognized as one of the most singular and powerful voices of contemporary Peruvian poetry.

I am still transitioning, but I am unsure into what.

Who are all these Evas? They puncture and disrupt the domestic space and equilibrium of the narrator, who alternately relies upon them or administers their care. Foam is the latest boundary-blurring, genre-resistant, strange and speculative new fiction from Kate Zambreno, the inimitable and relentless literary stylist and conceptualist. Inspired by the absurdities of Eva Hesse and other soft sculpture, these are speculative art essays and textures, a document of precarity and slippery time—mischievous, moody, estranged—a masterwork of tone and atmosphere.

Told through contradicting, unreliable narrators and almost entirely in dialogue, Seyed Qader Hedayati's GABOR fuses the experimentation of George Saunders with the absurdist satire of Joseph Heller to deliver a seldom explored portrait of friendship and boyhood under the anarchy of occupation.

In a Kurdish village under military occupation, a group of boys scrape together their savings and buy a hand-stitched football to prove they aren't losers to the other kids. When it lands inside the opposing military base, Karim sneaks in and takes it back—only for the soldiers to burn the neighborhood to the ground looking for it. Streets are bombed, homes are raided, snipers take aim at pedestrians, residents are dragged off and imprisoned. As the casualty rate skyrockets, Karim and his friends retaliate by firing junkyard scraps from their slingshots while raging bulls escape slaughterhouses to stampede into warfare.

Aesthetical Relations is a constellation of essays on art, fashion, cancer, comedy, Los Angeles, and your mom. Martinez whips elements of fiction and stand up material into bits and pieces addressing such concerns as: how many times you may kiss an art-world acquaintance, the theoretical stakes of sexting, and why German performance art is like French clowning. Aesthetical Relations is titled after Martinez’s ongoing conceptual comedy talk show of the same name. This new revised and expanded third edition includes new essays written from 2020-2025. 

Christina Catherine Martinez (Mexican American, b. Bellflower, CA) lives and works between Los Angeles, Mexico City, and New England. She was named both a Comedian You Should Know by Vulture and a Comic to Watch by TimeOutLA, and is a recipient of an Andy Warhol Foundation Arts Writers Grant for her varied approaches to art criticism, published in platforms such as The Los Angeles Times, Aperture, Frieze, Artforum, Bookforum, e-flux criticism, DOCUMENT Journal, Dirt.fyi and Texte Zur Kunst.

Gathering 13 amazing essays by artist and writer Dena Yago, co-founder of K-HOLE, That Figures retraces more than a decade of reflections on the creative industry—digging into topics such as Sporespace, Billie Eilish, LARPing, corporate cafeterias, ketamine, precarity, poetry, and the internet’s lures and failures. Yago exposes the contradictions of living amidst the sugarcoated deals of the attention economy, and further proposes a new lexicon to address the numbing and disorienting effects of late stage capitalism. Absorbing but refusing to metabolize the language of commercial culture, she opens a space where critical thinking can still happen.

That Figures also features a selection of artworks by Yago, in which the combination of conceptual legacies with pop cultural elements creates new poetical arrangements.

Get Rid of Meaning: A Journal of Interdisciplinary Writing is a biannual periodical by Sticky Fingers Publishing, exploring how and where meaning is produced, maintained and distributed. Through its first three issues, Get Rid of Meaning has become a site for interrogating the material conditions and affective systems of meaning-making, and strategies for surviving an intentionally nonsensical political landscape, through experimental non-fiction. This fourth issue builds on this by uncovering forms and methods of fugitive knowledge, from the heat of the land and the vibrations of the night, to the stoney rumblings of rivers and rock.

Featuring contributions from Alberto Álvarez, e v, Florence Hannah Evans, Lucy Petersen, Mark Sauter, mars k margetson & teresa amrita braggs.

LOOK HERE FOR: BLOOD BOILING, WHAT DEBT DOES, SEEING PURPLE, A PING-PONG BALL BENEATH THE RUBBLE, PSYCHOPOLITICS, ALIEN GOO, A ROD UP YOUR ASS, STONE SUMMONING FORTH, A MIRACLE, & THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

The love child of The L Word and Brontez Purnell’s 100 Boyfriends, with a disaffected flair all its own.

It’s San Francisco in the early aughts, and Howie Song is floundering. His failed projects—as a professional ballet dancer, as a boyfriend, as a friend—have left him forever the “third wheel.” But maybe he likes it that way? Leaping wildly between lovers, centuries, and an ever-changing cultural landscape, Howie might just feel most himself in the fracture. 

Delicious, poetic, and delightfully pornographic, Tricyclist is an ode to the “abnormal angles” of people and art. As Howie overcomes his own ambivalences—in large part thanks to two suitors, and a circle of supporters who happen to be lesbians—Joon Oluchi Lee portrays, with his signature flamboyance, all of life’s joys, pitfalls, and pirouettes.

Joon Oluchi Lee is one of my favorite writers. A quick-change artist with a blazing intellect, he startles with his wicked wit and mix of rawness and sophistication. In Tricyclist, vexed, sexed, and indexed types orbit the narrator Howie Song, offering all kinds of distractions and attractions. Identity is a flipbook of possibilities, malleable in a way that excites and also threatens dissolution (which is maybe a relief). Raunch, philosophical asides, and a scavenger hunt for connection and love are all propelled by Lee’s masterful maverick style and brilliant humor. - Nate Lippens

Across lush hangouts with friends and hookups with lovers, Joon Oluchi Lee’s Tricyclist paints shimmering portraits of the most beautiful blouses and bars and bodies laid bare alongside our hopelessly alluring narrator. Through Howie’s careening sex drives and death drives, sensuality is everything, and with Lee’s keen attunement to life’s viscera, Tricyclist aches gorgeously. What a rhapsodic balm to my 2026. - Benedict Nguyễn

Tricyclist is a sex-forward, strikingly original story of queer life in San Francisco that feels so fresh it left my fingers wet. Joon Oluchi Lee’s eye is as sharp as his prose, rendering characters and scenarios with gossipy frankness. Kinetic and true and hyper-alive. - Michelle Tea

Sarah Schulman, fervente militante pour les droits humains, livre dans cet essai une brillante analyse des défis sociaux et psychologiques inhérents à tout mouvement de solidarité. En prenant appui sur plusieurs exemples historiques (lutte pour le droit à l’avortement dans l’Espagne postfranquiste, lutte contre le VIH/sida dans le New York des années 1990, mobilisation contre le génocide à Gaza…) ainsi que sur sa propre expérience de femme queer et juive, l’autrice décortique les rouages de la solidarité et entreprend de questionner les fantasmes qui y sont traditionnellement associés. 

En filigrane, cet ouvrage pose une question fondamentale : quelle place pouvons-nous prendre dans un monde de plus en plus polarisé, et comment agir en solidarité avec les populations opprimées à l’échelle mondiale, locale ou individuelle ? L’autrice analyse les conditions nécessaires à tout mouvement de solidarité et montre l’importance de l’écoute active, la nécessité d’intervenir lorsque l’on est confronté à une injustice, la capacité à tolérer l’imperfection, ou encore la reconnaissance du coût moral et social inhérent à toute mobilisation. 

En dressant des parallèles entre différents mouvements sociaux, Sarah Schulman met en lumière certaines dynamiques transversales à tout acte de solidarité et montre l’importance de la convergence des luttes dans un contexte mondialisé. Ode à la libération des populations opprimées, cet ouvrage apparaît aujourd’hui indispensable pour quiconque souhaite oeuvrer à la construction d’un monde plus juste. 

Toxicité coloniale revient sur les programmes nucléaires français menés entre 1960 et 1966 dans le Sahara algérien. Ce programme secret, qui s’est déroulé pendant et après la guerre d’indépendance algérienne (1954-1962), a permis au régime colonial français de mettre à feu quatre bombes atomiques atmosphériques, treize souterraines et de mener d’autres expériences nucléaires dans le désert. Alors que la grande majorité des documents d’archives sont toujours classés secret aujourd’hui, Toxicité coloniale rassemble une variété de sources permettant de documenter l’histoire violente des activités de la France en Algérie. Le livre constitue un corpus de choix à l’intersection de la justice spatiale, sociale et environnementale pour ceux et celles qui s’intéressent à l’architecture, au paysage et aux pratiques d’archivage dans une démarche décoloniale.

Alors que ces bombes ont eu des conséquences durables pour les populations et les environnements locaux ainsi que pour les vétérans français, le manque de contrôle des explosions, les lacunes de sécurité et l’utilisation des Algériens comme main- d’œuvre sur des chantiers particulièrement dangereux apparaissent comme des faits coloniaux d’une importance majeure.

La même en pire est un roman d’amour enchâssé dans un roman noir, un huis clos dans lequel les confessions de chacune deviennent le procès des autres. Elles sont toutes coupables, toutes victimes, toutes témoins, toutes innocentes de ce qui est arrivé à Madison. Et qu’est-ce qui est arrivé ?

Madison a disparu, Madison a été assassinée, Madison s’est suicidée. Huit femmes se retrouvent dans un appartement et reviennent sur ce qui les avait rassemblées des années auparavant : une maison délabrée que Madison louait et dans laquelle elle avait installé des caméras pour streamer H24 et monétiser son existence. Elles avaient toutes vécu dans cette maison et avaient toutes fini par la déserter. Sophie la poète mariée au terroriste, Cécile la détective privée, Hilary la bourgeoise militante, Lola l’adolescente tiktokeuse muette, Alexandra l’entrepreneuse, Eva la mauvaise mère, Kamila la mère aimante, et la narratrice.

Préface : Lou-Andréa Benzacar

« On ne bombardera jamais ma voix » est un recueil de poèmes écrits depuis le génocide en cours à Gaza. Yahya AL Hamarna y documente les brutalités de la guerre ainsi que les rituels fragiles de la vie quotidienne : étudier, se promener dans le parc, lire de la poésie, préparer du thé, pleurer, survivre. De l’intimité exiguë des tentes de déplacés à la sérénité imaginaire des cours universitaires et des matchs du Réal Madrid, AL Hamarna élabore une poétique de la survie : une poétique qui refuse le désespoir et insiste sur la dignité invincible du peuple palestinien. 

Préface : Elissa Kayal
Postface : Alycia Dufour

Pieds en l’air, loin la terre rassemble les poèmes et paroles de chanson de Yanka Diaghileva (1966-1991), poétesse et musicienne au sein de l’un des premiers groupes de Punk sibérien. Imprégnées d’éléments de folklore sibérien et de mythologies slaves, les quatre-vingt-cinq textes qui composent ce livre évoquent à la fois l’univers du conte, l’esprit no future et la vie quotidienne en Sibérie à la fin des années 1980. S’ils sont marqués par une certaine forme de désespoir, ils témoignent surtout d’une profonde révolte existentielle et d’une insoumission au pouvoir soviétique. Extrêmement ciselés sur le plan sonore, ils sont nourris par les différents -ismes de la poésie russe (symbolisme, acméisme, futurisme). Mais Yanka Diaghileva ne revendiquait aucune filiation, elle faisait du punk: « Ce sont des étoiles qui tombent du ciel / En mégots des étages du dessus ». « Trouer la brume du paradis », un essai littéraire de Marina Skalova, complète cette éditions.