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Megan Nolan is a writer of essays, criticism and fiction born in Ireland and based in London. She writes a fortnightly column for the New Statesman.
He saw people like the ones he knew – market traders, small-town people – on the stage, and said to himself, “I’m going to do that.”
I first came to Greece in September 2016, burned out from my life of temping and sub-letting in London, with nothing but a small amount of money I wanted to force a long way and a book to write.
I thought getting older would allow me to look back and put a definitive frame on those dynamics. As with most of my hopes of reaching unambiguous emotional clarity, I have been disappointed.
For all the pig's association with disgust, there is liberation in the idea of a creature that refuses to apologise for its appetites.
Taddeo, an award-winning American journalist, spent eight years exploring the sex lives of three women.
In a black-and-white world of chaos or redemption, alcohol problems in between rarely reach the page.
I used to be embarrassed by my lack of drive, until I realised that the strange moral value we place on overwork is sapping our lives of joy.
The difficulty in writing about rape is the simultaneous existence of two truths. One: sexual violence shouldn’t be normalised. Two: sexual violence is normal.
I love the abstract idea of sisterhood, but one of my worst qualities is the way I look at other women.
What makes Pet Semetary so uniquely awful is not an undead child – it’s the novel’s painfully precise portrait of grief, desperation, and madness.