Granta

21 articles
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Whale Fall

On the slow death of a beached humpback whale.

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Fiction Pick of the Week: "Delira"

A depressed young woman takes a serving job alongside ominous, creepy co-workers.

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Boys in Zinc

Testimonies about the Soviet war in Afghanistan, reported by the 2015 recipient of the Nobel Prize for Literature.

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Frankenstein’s Mother

Sometimes your mom keeps the monsters at bay, and sometimes, she is one.

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A Thousand Splendid Stuns

Growing up Afghan in the era of the Afghanistan War.

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Lagos Must Prosper

The hopes, dreams and failures of Nigeria’s commercial capital.

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Patna Roughcuts

Old India and new, viewed through the prism of the writer’s hometown.

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The Fixer

A man in a small town in India builds local power by owning the only computer in his village.

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Birdie

A woman's involvement in an unstable Detroit activist movement.

"The houses we set out to destroy had already been inscribed by the city. The city had earmarked them as tear-downs during the first stage of a larger urban planning initiative – a large ‘D’ for Demolition had been written in white chalk on the front doors of the dilapidated multi-family structures, veterans of a time when Detroit was still a factory town, a place where the music of Motown fumed larger than the gusts of exhaust unleashed from the chains of cars which tumbled off the assembly lines at the auto factories and straight onto those glistening American freeways. The electric streetcar line along Woodward Avenue had been replaced by gas-powered buses. There’d been the great race wars. Even still, at the time those houses had been erected on that tender Northern riverbed which skirted the Canada border, the word future seemed more a promise than an urgency."

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Jill

Girlhood in the 1970s. An excerpt from Steinke's forthcoming novel, Sister Golden Hair.

"I crossed my arms in front of my chest and angled my head. From practising, I knew the pose I wanted to present when I stepped on the bus. My chin had to have a delicate look and my lips had to be relaxed and slightly parted. I wanted to look mysterious like a Victorian heroine, with pale cheeks and sunken, glittering eyes. In Philadelphia I’d blown the first day of sixth grade by acting friendly and wearing a shirt I’d tried to sew myself out of calico fabric. I swore I would never let that happen again. I had a new persona I’d been planning to introduce the first day of school: a girl wise beyond her years who was not at all nerdy or spastic or prone to crying jags."

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Brass

An Arizona family unwittingly approaches the cusp of tragedy.

"He looks up at me quick and decides to be pleased. Usually he won’t look at a person direct. He says eye contact is counterproductive to comprehension and communication. He’s got any number of ways to justify himself, that’s for sure."

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A Walk to Kobe

The author walks to his hometown after the Great Hanshin earthquake of 1995.