Literature

A Cheap Flight After Discharge by Leonie Lacey Our mother's worry echoes in his every footstep, a slush of wet sock meeting frayed insole. A teaming fog of talk to me talk to me trails his slighter frame, chokes our hello in the…

I first heard about ‘paralysis’ and ‘epiphany' as a  student in secondary school. Those words echoed around my mind, enveloped in a veil of mystery. It was my English teacher who talked to us about Ulysses - a massive book set on a unique…

Wabash Banner Blue  by Bill Ratner Listen to Bill Ratner reading Wabash Banner Blue A night of trees and winds  mangled sparrows  a dreamless sleep  a shutter opens  nursing in brumal air  moans of the slowing Wabash…

Moving by Ruth Quinlan There is little of me here now. The final days of sweating, bleaching  erase all but coffee rings on the table,  blushes of wine on the couch,  Blu Tack stains on walls from seven calendars. This slate…

COVID-19 has given us more of a taste of an apocalypse than we have ever had, emptying our streets, shops, and pushing family and friends away from one another and into their own bubbles. Mark O’Connell’s award-winning book, To Be a…

Of all David Cronenberg’s work, it’s his 1990 ad for Nike Air 180 that captures the spirit of his project most succinctly. ‘Transformation’ is only a thirty second footwear promotion but it packs a guttural punch that stays with you, that…

Astronomer Seal by R.P Moran Torpedo snouted, gazing up to  battleship-grey skies. Scanning for what? Sonar singing through clouds,  fishing for stars; hungry for answers. Arria after the roadside sculpture by Andy…

Vanessa Wye was fifteen when she first had sex with her English teacher, Jacob Strane. At thirty-two, some of Strane’s students come forward to accuse him of abuse, something that horrifies Vanessa. She doesn’t remember him abusing her.…

Female child narrators are rare in Irish Literature, while the notable presence of the male childhood is enough to form a genre of its own.  Thus when Christine Dwyer Hickey’s Tatty was published to great acclaim in 2004, it was breaking…

Tuesday Night by Sarah O'Neill Sometimes I feel like we are two sailors lost at sea. Stranded for days, bodies slowly dissolving in salt, Overwhelmed by thirst, our lips a distant memory, We look at each other and it’s like, Jesus it…