Journal
Articles
A liability
THE JOURNALIST IS calling again. I don’t know how he got my number. I suppose it couldn’t have been...
Venerable
WHEN WE PULL up outside the block, she is waiting in her best grey skirt and pearl-pink blouse with...
Walking Upside-down Country
life, habitat & ruin / run recombinant // & helical in hurt forms / that keep life going & do...
Mushrooms
In the dark, out of damp black loam, they’ve sprung back in their bonnets and straw hats. Pale arms dusted by the...
A Million Eyes
for Eileen Chong The story has been told over and over: Saigon crossed out on maps in crimson ink, its refugees pleading...
Cinema speaks back
Hind Rajab’s story unfolded four months into the spectacular unleashing of Israeli military violence on the people of Gaza. Hind and her family had been following evacuation orders. She remained trapped in the car with the corpses of her six family members for hours as Red Crescent staff tried to arrange a rescue operation. When emergency workers finally reached her, the IDF used an American-made weapon to shell Rajab and her rescue crew. Three hundred and fifty-five bullets hit the car.
All my friends are getting EVs
I was working out with my friend Matt when he asked if I wanted some coolant. Confused, I quipped darkly that I was depressed, not suicidal. Then I twigged – he’d recently bought an electric vehicle (EV) and no longer needed the half-bottle of Castrol Radicool he was offering. I said ‘yes’, and later – in a group chat we’re both members of – ‘Happy to take it like the internal combustion engine-running schlub that I am’.
The motherload
I recently sent my best friend a document titled ‘The Motherload’: a manual explaining how to be me in the event that I die, am incapacitated or sent to jail for killing my husband. It includes gems such as the food preferences of each of my children, the sunscreen that doesn’t cause rashes and how often they need to see the dentist. The ostensibly trivial items on it are the ones that matter most – catering to kids’ idiosyncrasies makes for a happy family life.
A race to the bottom?
It seems increasingly inevitable to me that two markets will soon emerge from the literary sector: one market for cheap, AI-generated content and another for the current, traditional model of publishing. I believe that publishers must value both to be sustainable. In spite of the evolving marketplace, publishers still have an obligation to guide emerging authors, editors and publishers through the peaks and pitfalls of a career in a notoriously complex and veiled industry.
Talking about generations
Gen X is fed benign time-capsule material: curated accounts and BuzzFeed lists featuring feral perms, lethal playground equipment, rollerskates, cassette recorders, butt-faced Cabbage Patch Kids, View-Masters, Game & Watches and so on, while millennials enjoy montages of neon acrylic phones, Beanie Babies, butterfly clips, Tamagotchis, portable CD players and Polly Pocket.
Gutenberg babble
In his essay, ‘The dawn of the post-literate society’, British columnist James Marriott argues that the recent decline in literacy – and book-reading in particular – amounts to a civilisational crisis. That he does so on Substack, in X-friendly paragraphs that unfurl beneath headings such as ‘World without mind’, ‘The end of creativity’ and ‘The death of democracy’, is not in itself a reason to dismiss his argument. But nor is it an irrelevant detail.
Finer details
The team at GR HQ had some thought-provoking conversations while selecting the cover art for Griffith Review 91: On the Money. Of course, there are obvious symbols that convey this evergreen theme – bulging wads of cash, a bank, gold bullion – but these felt like low-hanging fruit. In the age of Amazon, online shopping and next-day delivery, how could we represent contemporary commerce?
