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Minor Literatures Stuttering culture[s]

Kerber had taken to using only four words: North, South, East and West. Hypothetically, a full and comprehensive languag...
01/06/2023

Kerber had taken to using only four words: North, South, East and West. Hypothetically, a full and comprehensive language could be formed from this quartet, using a combination of repetitions, compounds and inflections. Kerber didn’t go so far as that, but where he went was enough. Depending on any number of contexts or circumstances, each word might mean: good or bad; yes or no; certainty or indifference; pleasure or pain....

Kerber had taken to using only four words: North, South, East and West. Hypothetically, a full and comprehensive language could be formed from this quartet, using a combination of repetitions, comp…

Not alone, not alone, not alone. Wherethere is an and, we follow it. Or they, ifyou're on the outside. And means moretha...
30/05/2023

Not alone, not alone, not alone. Wherethere is an and, we follow it. Or they, ifyou're on the outside. And means morethan one and more than one means notalone, not alone. This is the mostmunicipal, but not a metaphor. And doesn't stand for anything. It loops us together and enough loops make a city....

Not alone, not alone, not alone. Wherethere is an and, we follow it. Or they, ifyou’re on the outside. And means morethan one and more than one means notalone,  not  alone.  Th…

In ten years I’ve never written an editorial in the first person — this is my first and last one. The time has arrived f...
26/05/2023

In ten years I’ve never written an editorial in the first person — this is my first and last one. The time has arrived for me to step aside and let Minor Literature[s] continue without me. I do it knowing it’ll be in good hands. I started to toy with the idea of a magazine called Minor Literature[s] around May 2013....

In ten years I’ve never written an editorial in the first person — this is my first and last one. The time has arrived for me to step aside and let Minor Literature[s] continue without me. I d…

I myself am neither an émigré nor a refugee nor an asylum-seeker. I am a writer who at one point decided not to live in ...
25/05/2023

I myself am neither an émigré nor a refugee nor an asylum-seeker. I am a writer who at one point decided not to live in her country anymore because her country was no longer hers. Dubravka Ugrešić, “The Writer in Exile” The 2016 documentary My Escape/Meine Flucht by director Elke Sasse, produced by German public broadcaster WDR, consists entirely of cellphone videos shot by refugees on the way from their homelands to Europe the year before....

I myself am neither an émigré nor a refugee nor an asylum-seeker. I am a writer who at one point decided not to live in her country anymore because her country was no longer hers.Dubravka Ugrešić, …

In 1925, just as things were beginning to decline, Robert wrote a short text about himself. It begins by informing the r...
25/05/2023

In 1925, just as things were beginning to decline, Robert wrote a short text about himself. It begins by informing the reader that they’re going to hear the writer, Walser, speaking; but the addressee is in fact himself, Walser, the writer. As though opening a letter addressed to himself, Robert considers the text before him; but considers it as though he’d opened a letter from one of those people concerned about his more recent accomplishments and, therefore, his future prospects in the writerly profession (for example, his own family)....

In 1925, just as things were beginning to decline, Robert wrote a short text about himself. It begins by informing the reader that they’re going to hear the writer, Walser, speaking; but the addres…

1. Thin grey light before dawn; thrum of raindrops on the window and the clouds low over the trees the cold outside seep...
23/05/2023

1. Thin grey light before dawn; thrum of raindrops on the window and the clouds low over the trees the cold outside seeping in through a cracked window the crackle and hiss of the radiators; it is six o’clock emerging into the day and gradually eyes opening becoming aware of a slow vibrating pressure somewhere just almost not quite as though behind the head a slow dull vibrating jarring rattle there as if there is a refuse collection vehicle just there next to the ear but no there’s not—there—there is—it is there inside or just back there up next to the flesh of the earlobe meeting the head and there in the bones at the top of the neck so trying to stretch or crack the joint always stiffening but meet a limit and the suggestion of pain so stop; make coffee waiting and look again at the light (thin grey cold winter light) gradually filling space drifting into the living room as though trying to cling to some warmth under a thin blanket the rain continues to thrum over the cracking radiators the fridge whines blankly sipping coffee wait for the time to go, contemplate breakfast but since at this time of morning it is difficult to stomach much even the thought, shrinking back down deeper and squeezing into the body for a few more minutes a third alarm at last bestirring; out, down, into an empty damp street, up through the bare red-tipped branches the top of the lime trees a smeared softness in the air while the rain fades to a murkier dampness; bus empty city centre empty train station, in the process of repair for weeks but with no progress made yet other than a constant rearranging of various barriers and signs funnelling the now insistently non-existent one-way foot traffic through erratic and opaque routes, the train station empty the automated announcements a pang for elsewhere through there—crossing tramlines (always a rat here sometimes two or three; crows a blackbird once or twice a wren in the overgrown dull grey green brambles) up one hundred and fifty one steel stairs past the muddy so-called amphitheatre (right) and the regenerated social housing project (left) (monumentalised with public verse both printed on billboards and carved into steel and concrete plinths set against the vibrant splashes of the contemptuous neoliberal architectural puke-greens and puke-yellows designed to offset the duller yellow-beige-grey of pressure-hosed concrete (a dirtied and degraded monument to a temporary and faded utopian impulse) there is often an ambulance here waiting while the paramedics drink from their flasks) a few discarded needles unswept cigarette butts bins overflowing every week or so fly-tipped mattresses; the top of the steps: the tramlines the train tracks the closed cinema cranes high rises almost the minarets on the Medina mosque just about the stadium the hospital then out into across the pennines stretching grey unfurled, the sky grey and close closed condensation the thin air smeared with grey light....

1.Thin grey light before dawn; thrum of raindrops on the window and the clouds low over the trees the cold outside seeping in through a cracked window the crackle and hiss of the radiators; it is s…

Claremont Asylum was a brooding presence in a suburb of Perth, managed by the Lunacy Department under the stewardship of...
18/05/2023

Claremont Asylum was a brooding presence in a suburb of Perth, managed by the Lunacy Department under the stewardship of the Inspector General of the Insane, administering the Lunacy Act of 1903. It was a new facility, with a farm, an orchard and pleasant grounds, but the two-storey building, constructed of red brick and Donnybrook stone, was secure as any gaol....

Claremont Asylum was a brooding presence in a suburb of Perth, managed by the Lunacy Department under the stewardship of the Inspector General of the Insane, administering the Lunacy Act of 1903. I…

After an arduous process of trying, and failing, to find a publisher, in 2021 Melbourne-based writer Michael Winkler dec...
16/05/2023

After an arduous process of trying, and failing, to find a publisher, in 2021 Melbourne-based writer Michael Winkler decided to self-publish his novel Grimmish. Two years later, having cultivated a committed readership and become the first self-published novel to be shortlisted for the Miles Franklin Award, not only does the book have an Australian publisher, it has also been released in the US and UK....

After an arduous process of trying, and failing, to find a publisher, in 2021 Melbourne-based writer Michael Winkler decided to self-publish his novel Grimmish. Two years later, having cultivated a…

S*x is always monstrous. Blood appears in the air next to the body but nobody asks a question about the body. ‘Please to...
09/05/2023

S*x is always monstrous. Blood appears in the air next to the body but nobody asks a question about the body. ‘Please touch me there. More. Oh god.’ For a hitchhiker, the problem of the bo***ir is transferred to a makeshift, itchy, unsafe space on the verge of a New Mexico highway. It is often the s*x of another era, in which the socks and dress shirt/blouse are not necessarily removed....

S*x is always monstrous. Blood appears in the air next to the body but nobody asks a question about the body. ‘Please touch me there. More. Oh god.’ For a hitchhiker, the problem of the bo***ir is …

The lake was clear. And the sky above the lake. And the stars beyond the sky which had begun to twinkle at the arrival o...
04/05/2023

The lake was clear. And the sky above the lake. And the stars beyond the sky which had begun to twinkle at the arrival of dusk, as though they were posing a question, or perhaps opening a gift. Tomorrow, or night; no rush. A plate of hummus, half-eaten, lay on the kitchen table, a Formica slab whose own surface crudely imitated the galaxy, back home in the cabin....

The lake was clear. And the sky above the lake. And the stars beyond the sky which had begun to twinkle at the arrival of dusk, as though they were posing a question, or perhaps opening a gift. Tom…

Gwynfor Writing against music I try to find the momentum of days. The sound of a political poster being unfurled and put...
02/05/2023

Gwynfor Writing against music I try to find the momentum of days. The sound of a political poster being unfurled and put into my hands. I could be three, could be four. The banner is neon green and reads Gwynfor. I am smiling, is it from understanding or looking to the background? I am held on either side by parental hands....

GwynforWriting against music I try to find the momentum of days. The sound of a political poster being unfurled and put into my hands. I could be three, could be four. The banner is neon green and …

Oh, Mary dressed in water. I followed you into the river. There – a seizure. Thoughts vaulted from me like crows scatter...
20/04/2023

Oh, Mary dressed in water. I followed you into the river. There – a seizure. Thoughts vaulted from me like crows scattering at the sound of a shot. I became shocked meat, flooded with sensations: the heart’s sudden clutch, breath, scarce and precious. There were dangers under the water. Careless hungers that could detain us. All our lives we had been warned about reeds, the possessive caresses of their long, soft fingers....

Oh, Mary dressed in water. I followed you into the river. There – a seizure. Thoughts vaulted from me like crows scattering at the sound of a shot. I became shocked meat, flooded with sensations: t…

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