Northern Monk in conjunction with British Youth Culture have used a picture of me and my stepfather, Allen Jessop — taken by my late mother on holiday in Jersey, back in July 1981 — to illustrate a beer called Holidays in the Sun. It came out at the end of last year.
‘Celesteville’s Burning: A Work in Regress’ by Andrew Gallix
Sostène Zanzibar, a successful novelist based in Paris, is suffering a midlife crisis and struggling with creative inspiration. When the journalist Loren Ipsum comes to interview him, they embark on a love affair that ends in humiliation for Zanzibar, who then descends into crisis. The prose is beautifully crafted, the story a wonderful mixture of literary satire, erudite references, superb puns and zingy one-liners, and jokes that made me laugh out loud — Zanzibar’s ex “publicly pooh-poohed his cunnilingus technique, comparing the result as a series of ‘indecipherable chicken-scratch squiggles’”. As the story progresses, there is a shift in tone from comic to poignant and the ending is dreamy and bittersweet.
First published in The White Review, and available to read online. Collected in We’ll Never Have Paris, Repeater Books, 2019.
Also Known As Ariel (aka London-based Argentine author Fernando Sdrigotti) has kindly composed this eerie soundtrack for a forthcoming video (by Julie Kamon) showcasing an extract from my novel-in-progress Loren Ipsum. More soon.
I have a short story — “On Mooning Considered as One of the Fine Arts” — in ZenoPress’s latest annual anthology, Zahir: Desire and Eclipse.
Here is the publisher’s blurb:
Zahir: Desire and Eclipse is a new collection of writings including essays, poems, experimental texts and short stories. This issue features works by both established and emerging artists and writers.
The starting point for this new anthology is the short story by Jorge Luis Borges ‘The Zahir’. Zahir is an Arabic word that indicates a concept or object that obsesses man, to the point of making him lose touch with reality. The Zahir at first may appear insignificant, it insinuates itself into the mind and invades it occupying every corner. It becomes an obsession that can only be freed by going to meet it, looking for it and making it one’s own forever.
Within the realms of poetry, essays and short stories, this anthology explores how the Zahir — something both very serious and vaguely absurd — sticks on our minds and refuses to be shaken. The aim is to consider how its cultural meanings are produced and how it shapes and resonates in our imagination, as well as causing consequences in various aspect of life. Each work investigates how the Zahir allows itself to be a screen onto which we project our anxieties and desires and functions as a mirror in which we see ourselves reflected.
Featuring works by:
Andrew Dyer, Andrew Gallix, Annie Q. Syed, Anthony Etherin, C.C. O’Hanlon, David Roden, Emma Bolland, Flowerville, Genese Grill, Geoff Saunders, Iris Colomb, Julia Rose Lewis, Kate Wakeling, Octavia Bright and Rushda Rafeek.
The multi-talented Sam Mills has done my portrait (as part of a series of writers’ portraits). The beauty of it is that she’s actually managed to make me look good! This is the second draft. Sam said, “I found it easier to draw your eyes when I realised you have similar eyes to Lucian Freud, who I’ve also been sketching (his ghost kindly sat for me…)”.
Sam Mills: “Evidence: if you compare this photo of Lucian Freud with you, I think you have a similar profile, with regard to long lashes/slant of lips? Something similar somewhere”.
Sam Mills: “It’s a colourful pic because you look very vital, with a lot of sun and shukra in your skin, but a close look suggests a jaded edge, as though you’ve not had much sleep or you’ve been imbibing or something (!). Anyway, I was struggling with another portrait & found myself drawing it; here is the half-finished sketch”.
I have written a piece in homage to the late Marc Zermati for the Guardian. Great photo by Catherine Faux of Zermati with Joe Strummer in Paris back in 1981.
Marc Zermati, who died of a heart attack on Saturday at the age of 74, was a true underground legend: a national treasure France had never heard of and probably did not deserve. Rock Is My Life — the title of a 2008 exhibition celebrating his career on the radical fringes of the music business — would serve as a fitting epitaph. . . . [A]s one of the earliest champions of punk his importance in rock history cannot be overstated; if cut, he would have bled vinyl…
The ghosts that we hear represent what Jacques Derrida referred to as ‘hauntology’ in his Specters of Marx: The term refers to the situation of temporal, historical and ontological disjunction in which the apparent presence of being is replaced by an absent or deferred non-origin, represented by ‘the the figure of the ghost as that which is neither present, nor absent, neither dead nor alive’, as Andrew Gallix puts it (Gallix, 2011). . . . Many or even ‘all forms of representation are ghostly’ as Andrew Gallix puts it in his article: ‘Works of art are haunted, not only by the ideal forms of which they are imperfect instantiations, but also by what escpes representation’ (Gallix, 2011).
[PS I’m afraid the first quote is actually me quoting Colin Davis.]