Deborah Levy

Last summer I had my 50th birthday. Fifty, which Victor Hugo called the youth of old age and is, according to George Orwell, the age at which everyone(...)

As darkening clouds of disbelief continue to gather over the US, anything can now happen. We know that for certain; the great Bob Dylan insists on pre(...)

It is a fact, two words appear to dominate literary prize shortlist assessments these days; “big”, as in big name, and “indie”, as in independent publ(...)

Heralding the customary groans, cheers, sighs and gnashing of teeth the 2016 Man Booker shortlist has been announced and with it the six remaining gla(...)

Who cares about the Man Booker Prize? For most people, if the name is recognisable at all, it’s an award for the snooty elite – “posh bingo”, as Julia(...)

Once the initial dust settles, that would be the slight cloud created by feet racing off to the nearest bookstore because this year’s Man Booker priz(...)

Last year the writer and illustrator Joanna Walsh created a series of hand-drawn bookmarks of some of her female literary heroes. Among them were G(...)

A seductive menace has always shaped Deborah Levy’s elegant, intelligent and devastatingly realistic vision. Her reworking of her long poem, An Amorou(...)

(For the full how to write series click here) Last week’s article dealt with inspiration, but deciding on the right form for an idea may help f(...)

When he wasn’t writing very short stories or novels about war, Ernest Hemingway also came up with pithy remarks about being an author. “There is nothi(...)