Reportage - Page 6 of 8

Diamonds in the Dark

Rachel Lichtenstein on the hidden lives of Hatton Garden

'It is a secret, private, hidden world that operates under a strict set of unspoken internal laws: never screw a partner and once a deal is done it is a 'mazen brucha' and it must be adhered to.'

Syria Calling

Robin Yassin-Kassab re-experiences the complexities of an ancient land

A document from another time: Robin Yassin-Kassab's diary of his 2008 return journey to Syria, and a Damascus hazed by diesel fumes but still standing.

On Handwriting

Writing can be a series of marks, says Aislinn Hunter, impressions that locate a site of having been

'Only his handwriting seemed to locate him exactly, to ground his body in the act of writing and thinking and breathing; each stroke of the pen a black ink tether that tied me to him and him to me.'

That Life of Sexual and Sybaritic Abandon

Alexander Larman heeds the words of Lord Rochester and exits London

'Inspired by his loathing of the hypocrites and knaves who surrounded him, Rochester aimed to show his friends (and enemies) that he was a serious and considered thinker.'

The Freedom Writer

Seventy-nine authors stepped forward. Liberty needed one more

To mark their 80th anniversary, the advocacy group Liberty delved into their sizeable list of contacts and got hold of 79 of the world’s best writers, then aske... Read more

Untitled

by Peter Jackson

I think I can say, with perfect confidence, that Liberty, the organisation, is rubbish. I can, I can say that. I can also say that the Prime Minister is rubbish... Read more

The Pain Machine

How does one parent a mood ring? By Heidi Julavits

I ignored her pain. This was not difficult to do; her pain was rarely justified. To wear special seamless socks was to stick her feet in an iron smelter. To wear a soft acrylic scarf was to be garroted by a scroll of razor wire.

‘You endured life. You didn’t live it.’

Georges Simenon’s message to his mother

When I left for Paris at the age of nineteen, you were still a stranger to me. Come to think of it, I never called you Mama; I called you Mother, just as I never called my father Papa. How did that come about?

Wind, Storm and Cloud

Denoting the land and nature and weather, one definition at a time. By Robert Macfarlane

A flinchin is a deceitful promise of better weather. Skub is hazy clouds driven by the wind. And a ciabhar is a slight breeze, just enough to stir the hair.

Becoming Westerly

Could a powerful wave incite a surfer’s transformation? By Jamie Brisick

'It’s funny how the ocean calls out to you. It’s not about checking wave cams on the Internet, or reading the surf forecast. It’s a feeling in your bones and blood, something like the way dogs sense earthquakes.'

On Kate Bush

Katherine Angel listens to a voice of uncomfortable beauty

'There is something about Kate Bush’s voice – her physical voice, as well as her voice in a literary sense – that has often struck me as heroic. Heroic because it is reckless, stubborn.'

Give It Up

Great works demand sacrifice? Perhaps we should resent them. By Erik Hinton

'I try to guess the book’s big idea and decide, well in advance of criticism or comprehension, whether or not the writing will be rich enough to entertain my friends when they ask, "Read anything good lately?"'