Anne Enright’s damaged lives
In The Wren, The Wren, the Irish author rigorously traces the line between love and trauma.
ByNew Times,
New Thinking.
In The Wren, The Wren, the Irish author rigorously traces the line between love and trauma.
ByThis series tracks attempts at immortality from vampire myths to a global industry now worth $25bn. Is it any more…
ByDebates about Britain’s colonial legacy are not just a product of Brexit or woke politics – empire has always been…
ByThe psychologist on Sea State by Tabitha Lasley, Andrew Yang and regulating Big Tech.
ByWhen a friend told ChatGPT to write an article in my style, I first found it mildly amusing – then…
ByAs we walked to a pub, a group of boys and girls emerged to yell at us – and then…
ByWhy a church in Harlow New Town has been recognised for its architectural importance.
ByThis debut film of lost love is full of material that is clearly important to her. Why should it matter…
ByIts pious concern masking voyeuristic excitement, the in-depth trial coverage is typical “true crime entertainment”.
ByBuilt on imperial amnesia and competing nationalisms, the EU has never been the beacon of inclusion it claims to be.
ByPlease email zuzanna.lachendro@newstatesman.co.uk if you would like to be the New Statesman’s subscriber of the week.
ByThe wars between Finland and Soviet Russia in the 1940s hold lessons on how peace might be achieved today.
ByAlso this week: A close encounter with Labour luvvies, and chaos at the British Museum.
ByIt is useless to pretend that in a world of high public debt voters can be spared increased taxes.
ByYour weekly dose of gossip from around Westminster.
ByEven with the Prem to distract me, I am still anxious about how the England women’s team are coping.
ByThis column – which, though named after a line in Shakespeare’s “Richard II”, refers to the whole of Britain –…
ByAlso featuring National Dish by Anya von Bremzen and Metropolitan by Andrew Martin.
ByWrite to letters@newstatesman.co.uk to have your thoughts voiced in the New Statesman magazine.
ByHiding among waxy coats and mud-encrusted boots, I spent two blissful hours without my phone and the internet.
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