Michael Marett-Crosby | Contributors to Slightly Foxed literary review magazine

- Search for:
0
0

Michael Marett-Crosby writes when he is not reading. His first novel, Two Thirds Man, is doing the rounds of agents.

The numbers in square brackets refer to the issue of the quarterly in which the article appears.
The unbracketed numbers refer to the starting page of the article.
For entries in multiple issues of the quarterly, the occurrences are separated by semi-colons.

articles by, [22] 66; [37] 64

Browse articles

Mr Pye’s Dilemma

Michael Marett-Crosby on Mervyn Peake, Mr Pye

Our boat journey from Jersey to Sark passes through a dangerous past. The rocks between the two islands are called in Jersey slang the Pater Nosters, for it is said that if a ship were to get too close to them, then prayer was all the mariners had left to save themselves. We notice how Jersey is well defended from the sea: an Elizabethan castle, another fort and then the grinning mouths of German fire-control towers, cadavers of wartime occupation. Jersey has always judged itself worth the effort to defend.

June News: In search of the thing itself

Inspired by the thought of fleeing the scaffolding of Hoxton Square, we’re steaming into the Slightly Foxed archives, travelling back to the spring of 2013 and stopping off in Brazil, via Ukraine, to meet one rather extraordinary writer in this month’s article from a back issue . . . ‘Her name is Clarice Lispector, one of the most original and fascinating writers of the twentieth century.’

Hurricane Clarice

Michael Marett-Crosby on Clarice Lispector

The sleeper lounge is old-fashioned British Rail, all tartan carpet, smeared tables and microwave cuisine. Tonight it contains a gathering of solitaries, all of us making separate journeys to London. The man beside me is still working, though it’s nearly ten o’clock. By chance we order the same whisky. We raise our plastic glasses, embarrassed in a very British way. I want to encourage him. He is at war with a pile of papers. But he is wishing me good luck as well. He has been glancing at the author’s face on the back cover of my novel. She does rather stare . . .

Buy related issues of Slightly Foxed