David Szalay reflects on the elusive moral terrain of his Booker Prize–winning novel FLESH—and why, from the very beginning, he set out to express things "obliquely, because to express them directly was, in a way, beyond the power of words."
We’re delighted to share the latest in our collaboration with @yalereview.bsky.social And, if you prefer your interviews channelled directly into your ear holes, the podcast dropped today too.
podcasts.apple.com/fr/podcast/t...
Honestly, Davies is one of our most undervalued writers and whoever gets this trilogy is in for a treat.
Blimey, London. Get to this!
It’s a good day when you hear that a new @kandasamy.bsky.social novel is on the way.
Forget Danny Boyle, they should get *us* to artistic direct...
We need another UK Olympics so Danny Boyle can integrate both of these into the opening ceremony.
Goodbye to our dear friend, Fred Wiseman. What an oeuvre he leaves behind.
www.nytimes.com/2026/02/16/m...
👇💔
The South Park movie is an inspired choice...given, well, everything.
Feels like a good time to repost episode when the brilliant
@salomesaque.bsky.social was a guest on our podcast. podcasts.apple.com/fr/podcast/t...
Look what's happening at the bookshop tomorrow... 🤩 #booksky
Look what's happening at the bookshop tomorrow... 🤩 #booksky
Great news!
This is the stranger’s case,
And this your mountainish inhumanity
Well, *one* person will... @kermodemovie.bsky.social committed to reviewing it in the last episode of @kermodeandmayo.bsky.social . Very much in a "so you don't have to" capacity, of course. I'm not sure we'll ever have heard a review quite like it.
Well, *one* person will... @kermodemovie.bsky.social committed to reviewing it in the last episode of @kermodeandmayo.bsky.social . Very much in a "so you don't have to" capacity, of course. I'm not sure we'll ever have heard a review quite like it.
Also "quietly" is doubly redundant. As if anyone might think "But does he mean whisper it quietly or stage whisper it?"
👁️See It, Say It, Sorted: Jonathan Coe’s Genre-Bending Novel🔍
On the podcast this week, Adam welcomes @jonathancoe.bsky.social to Paris for a rich, funny, and wide-ranging conversation about his novel The Proof of My Innocence.
pod.fo/e/3743b7
Recorded this with Adam in November last year. No memory of what I said, but it was certainly fun on the night! (And he’s a great interviewer)
👁️See It, Say It, Sorted: Jonathan Coe’s Genre-Bending Novel🔍
On the podcast this week, Adam welcomes @jonathancoe.bsky.social to Paris for a rich, funny, and wide-ranging conversation about his novel The Proof of My Innocence.
pod.fo/e/3743b7
Join us for an evening with the brilliant David Szalay, discussing his 2025 Booker Prizewinning novel Flesh. In association with Editions Albin Michel.
Good start to 2026... www.shakespeareandcompany.com/events/david...
It’s a snowy Twelfth Night here in Paris ❄️
What better way to spend it than reading—or rereading—one of the greatest stories ever written: “The Dead” by James Joyce.
And if you’d like to dive deeper into the story, have a listen to our special Bloomcast episode on “The Dead": pod.fo/e/210cf6
This Thursday...
It’s a snowy Twelfth Night here in Paris ❄️
What better way to spend it than reading—or rereading—one of the greatest stories ever written: “The Dead” by James Joyce.
And if you’d like to dive deeper into the story, have a listen to our special Bloomcast episode on “The Dead": pod.fo/e/210cf6
This: 🤷♂️
That moment when Chris makes us jealous of his book post again, already?!
Snow at Notre Dame through the window of Shakespeare and Company
A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
Snow just in time for our annual epiphany, as we reread The Dead…
Just finished editing a podcast interview with George Saunders about his new novel VIGIL. He is on *sparkling* form. In your ears February 5.
@bloomsburybooksuk.bsky.social
