Silicone God

“I wrote (more or less, for promises are always hard to keep, even those made to oneself ) for five days a week for a year. I wrote no more than a page, or rather, I wrote only for the length of the analytic hour, fifty minutes (though I also practiced the variable session at times)… I followed Freud’s model of train travel for his theory of free association, acting ‘as though, for instance, [you were] a traveller sitting next to the window of a railway carriage and describing to someone inside the carriage the changing views which [you] see outside’. As for my characters, many of their names begin with A. Some of these women exist or existed, others are from fiction, or write fiction. Some are friends or acquaintances. None are credited but a keen reader could recognise many of them. I invented nothing. I am the aleph.”

When Jean, a young translator of French and Russian, receives a mysterious commission, she leaps at the chance to escape her current life—and husband—and relocate to Montréal. Marriage has destroyed her sense of self, but work offers a way to rebuild it, as Jean slowly rediscovers her identity via a series of literary encounters (as well as lots of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll). With nods to the Situationists and Oulipo, JEANNE is an experimental yet at the same time intensely readable novel about gender, alterity, and linguistic insecurity. Will translation always be seen as an act of betrayal? Or does one's willingness to speak through and with the other yield its own rewards?

Malory walks home after an ordinarily gruelling night out, having escaped the company of her associates. Something ripples in the darkness. The shape of a figure. So begins a chain of events with the texture of dream plasma. A story of persecution mania. Professional ignominy. A sudden disappearance. The terror of seeing oneself too clearly...

Part horror story, part tragicomic nightmare, Ghost Driver is a slim shudder of a novel about a woman who has taken every wrong turn available to her.

Know Thy Audience, Nadia de Vries’ third poetry collection, disavows the platitude from which it takes its name and makes the reader complicit in both her aggression and her submission, sparked by a history of domestic abuse that escapes all euphemism and metaphor – but not poetry altogether.

Speaking—or rather, singing—as a ‘battered woman’ from a working-class neighborhood, De Vries’ aphoristic writing belies a vengeful reversal of roles in which the author—and not her perpetrator—pulls the strings. Who is the victim in these poems? Can violence be redeemed through esthetic metamorphosis? Or can powerlessness only be transferred as fetish? Know Thy Audience investigates the extent to which a victim can share their wounds, and to what degree an audience can—sensibly, ethically—be burdened with painful knowledge.

Dark Rides is like the best carnival dark ride you've ever been on: funny and frightening, short and shocking. Dark Rides is a collection of stories about gay teenagers growing up in a small city in Canada in the 1950s. There's a different kid in each of the stories: the kid that loves Hank Williams, the kid that works at a haunted hayride, the kid that thinks he's Caligula and so on. They don't meet, but they share similar attributes: they're all named Derek McCormack, and they all fall for the wrong people in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Published for the first time in 1996, Dark Rides was Derek McCormack's first book. This thirtieth anniversary edition features new illustrations and a foreword by Lisa Robertson.

‘A fresh, thrilling, perfect book.’ — Dennis Cooper

‘Derek McCormack is a genius of prose that is driven and artificial. In Dark Rides, homo-hormones ask our teen hero Derek the questions and deliver the answer—SEX. Derek’s small-town hardscrabble world is suffused with sparkling off-hand clarity as he undergoes the tender and menacing rituals of the high school closet.’ — Robert Glück

‘Welcome to the perverse and innocent world of Derek McCormack. The mystery of objects, the lyricism of neglected lives, the menace and nostalgia of the past—these are all ingredients in this weird and parallel universe.’ — Edmund White

‘Way back when, when I first read Derek McCormack's books, I thought that I'd like to be his twin, to share his brain and soul matter—his writing was that important to me and it still is.’ — Miriam Toews

Derek McCormack is a writer and artist who lives in Toronto. Among his previous books are the novels Castle Faggot and The Well-Dressed Wound and a collection of essays about fashion and death titled Judy Blame's Obituary. The Shithole Opry Collector's Guide, a monograph about the hillbilly jewellery he designs, is forthcoming from Cushion Works/DAP. Dark Rides was his first book.

30th Anniversary Edition 
with a foreword by Lisa Robertson

What do you worship? What claims your time, your faith, your silence? What are the icons you carry, the relics you protect, the devotions that define you?

For our inaugural issue, we invite you to reflect on the objects, ideas, rituals, and obsessions that shape your devotion. Worship is not confined to temples or texts, it flickers in longing glances, whispered prayers, silent routines, and fervent beliefs. It can be sacred or profane, communal or solitary, chosen or inherited.

We encouraged our writers and artists to interpret this theme freely, critically, emotionally, playfully, or abstractly. Whether they explored worship through fiction, nonfiction, poetry, visual art, or hybrid forms, we were looking for work that comforts, commands, or consumes.

This issue features art and writing from: Triinu Silla, Michel Krysiak, Anna Tracey, Antonina Anna Kubicka, Ari Wentz, Jonathan David Sijl, Renacuajo Sánchez, Florence Hutchinson, Marta Calero Segura, Eden Ridout, Artémis Toumi, Simone Viola, Zoe Pappouti, Laura Soto Sánchez, Autumn Anderson, Woodkern, Cathal McGuire, Nena Pawletko, Ignacio Aguilera, Marine Victoria Lobos Garay, Andreea Luță, Isabel Ferreras González, Rafael Torrubia, Emilia Tapia, KC Willis, Simon Jin, Jacky Weerman, Róisín Gallagher, and Rin Anishchanka. 

The power of Sabahattin Ali comes from beyond his words. It is his sense of observation, insight and commitment to fight for a fairer society that have carried his voice into the modern day.

The four tales in this book - Death of the Giants, A Tale of Love, A Tale of Sheep and The Glass Pavilion - were compiled and published in Sırça Köşk [The Glass Pavilion] in 1947. At the time Sabahattin Ali penned these tales, the young Turkish Republic was still struggling to establish a proper democracy with one sole party in parliament. In 1948 the Turkish Council of Ministers decided to ban Sırça Köşk, and all remaining copies were swiftly confiscated. Even after his death, the words of Sabahattin Ali were deemed as a governmental threat and for decades publishers were reluctant to print his work.

Almost eighty years later, these political and social tales remain just as poignant. Does this showcase Sabahattin Ali’s visionary spirit or a general lack of vision within our societies?

Raphaëlle Milone's first novel, a dive into the heart of desires, acclaimed by Simon Liberati as well as by Jean-Luc Nancy.

Raphaëlle Milone (born 1991 in Riom) is a French writer.