ArticleMary Lavin's stories subtly suggest that the rural idyll that De Valera dreamed of cannot materialise. The past plays heavy on the modernity promised, and through Lavin's ecocritical eye, it creeps in to each of her stories like the ‘powdery gre[...]
Article‘Every night, she grew. Not just in size but in heat …’
ArticleDate, date, date, date, date, Timothy.
Article‘She stared up at me like it was my fault, which of course it was.’
ArticleA man and a woman ‘in the opening gloom, among distant, mysterious noises’.
ArticleCrossed wires at a mother–son reunion.
ArticleBoyfriend with a baby.
ArticleGuilt-honeyed lops of memory.
ArticleA boy and his father spend a day together
ArticleGoing back to where the bad thing happened
ArticleA woman, her cat, and various guys
ArticleHelping refugees land in Greece [personal history]
Article‘I felt that something permanent was less worrying than something new and strange’
ArticleWith some trophies in the boot of her car, a woman visits an ex [short story]