Junket Tweets
They're removing the books from Kensal Rise Library today. From the archive, @PeteJRScott on this battle of the books http://t.co/8fTAtNKn
16th May 2012 02:25pm
'We will never read the novel he wrote': we like the first entries in The Biographical Dictionary of Literary Failure http://t.co/NxFRXmVx
16th May 2012 01:51pm
Hell is lego people: Dante's Inferno recreated in plastic bricks http://t.co/gS33O7Dj
15th May 2012 04:10pm
Kerouac and crayons: Rodney Phillips on writers' childhood relics, from the archive at Cabinet Magazine http://t.co/lRMswJfS
14th May 2012 10:15am
About The Junket
In a letter to Leigh Hunt in May 1817, John Keats wrote that composing Endymion felt like ‘a continual uphill Journeying’. ‘John Keats alias Junkets’, he signed off, as if to remind us that, however tortuous it may be to find oneself writing, writing itself has that rich and strange ability to disguise the graft of its making behind the impish mischief it continues to make. Just so, the idea of a junket, of an unabashed bean-feast carried off on somebody else’s time and money, craftily conceals its own more functional linguistic heritage. For, as the OED suggests, in spite of its ‘somewhat obscure history’, junket finds ways to reach back to the Pontine marshes south-east of Rome, to their fenland yield of juncus or rushes, to the medieval juncata, the rush-basket for catching and carrying fish, and to the creamy juncade or jonquette, the cheese named for the basket it was prepared in. If from there it becomes a sweetmeat or kickshaw, if it spreads to merrymaking and banqueting and more capricious jaunting, then it seems appropriate to let it represent what The Junket should aspire to: modest materials that are worked with care, before taking on an errant, boisterous life.
From the Archive
James Purdon
On Orford Ness
Late September on the coast of Suffolk, with the sky curdling into low cloud. From the mainland pier, Orford Ness is a low flat slate-grey spit, tapering to a wire of horizon at each end. Between h… Read article
From the Current Issue
Peter Scott
Smoking Ban
This is not a confession. This is not a story or a parable, a manifesto or a warning, a love letter or a fantasy, self-help or recruitment drive. If it mattered when I first tried a cigarette, I coul… Read article
James Purdon
Castles in the Air
In a university town on the west coast of America, tents are floating in the sky. First one, then another is lofted into the air, each held up by its own rig of white balloons. In front of of the plaz… Read article
Kristen Treen
Print Culture
When I talk about what I do, the index finger of my right hand automatically enacts a scrolling motion. The finger bends into a hook; it straightens; it repeats, a mid-air gesticulation. Each time t… Read article
Olivia Laing
The Lonely City
There’s a painting halfway up the pristine snail shell of the Guggenheim Museum in New York of a - but already I’m beginning to fumble. There’s a painting halfway up the pristine snail shell of … Read article
Jordan Savage
Feet! Feet!
For dancing’smy soul delight (Feet! Feet!)- Frank O’Hara. Beginning Stories start at the end of things. The Odyssey began at the end of the Trojan War. This morning snuck up before I’d quite s… Read article
John Gallagher
Language Turned Convict
Heere I set before thee (good Reader) the lewd lowsie language of these loytering lusks, and laysie lorels, wherewith they buy and sell the common people as they passe through the countrey. – Thoma… Read article