Quote of the Day
It is impossible to imagine literary life in Britain without Carcanet.
William Boyd
|
|||
Book Search
Subscribe to our mailing list
|
|||
News
Sinéad Morrissey to Receive the 2024 Seamus Heaney Award, Japan
Many congratulations to Sinéad Morrissey, who has been announced as the recipient of the 2024 Seamus Heaney Award, Japan! read more
Jorie Graham Shortlisted for 2024 Griffin Poetry Prize
We're delighted to share the news that after being longlisted for the 2024 Griffin Poetry Prize, Jorie Graham has made it onto the shortlist with her collection To 2040! read more
Jason Allen-Paisant Shortlisted for the Jhalak Prize 2024
More good prize news for Jason Allen-Paisant and his second collection, Self-Portrait as Othello, which has made it onto the 2024 Jhalak Prize shortlist! read more
Featured Audio
Elaine Feinstein reads '8th Lyric of The Poem of the End' by Marina Tsvetaeva (4:30 mins) Listen
Welcome to Carcanet Press, one of the outstanding independent literary publishers of our time. Now in its sixth decade, Carcanet publishes the most comprehensive and diverse list available of modern and classic poetry in English and in translation, as well as inventive fiction, Lives and Letters and critical writing.
Shipments outside the UK will be sent via courier, duties unpaid. Please note that customs and duty fees may be charged by your national postal operator or courier service.
Poem of the Day
Actaeon
Some names are words for grief,
Taken from 'New Poetries V'...graceless words for failure. Actaeon was a crowd, a lonely man, and in the end nothing, awaiting his descent into simple witlessness, cold beside a river of fire, who, the story goes, either wandered into a grove sacred to Artemis and saw her bathing naked or boasted he was the greater hunter. And so, enduring the deep wrath of god, thinking, No way out of this, about to surrender it came to him that, like any hound or creature in this world, he too had yearned and hunted. Later on in the underworld, he began to wonder about symmetry, his cousin, unborn heirs to the throne of Cadmus and whether or not he’d been forgiven: a crowd, a lonely man, nothing, awaiting his descent into witlessness, and so cold near Phlegethon, boundless river of fire. Some men have grief in place of dreams. How cold and sad an end those men will come to: white caps over the blue, no linden trees or red acorns under which to find shade, and not one god to pray for mercy to. |
Share this...
Quick LinksCarcanet PoetryCarcanet ClassicsCarcanet FictionCarcanet FilmLives and LettersPN ReviewVideoCarcanet Celebrates 50 Years!
The Carcanet Blog
Not a Moment Too Soon: Frank Kuppner
read more
Coco Island: Christine Roseeta Walker
read more
that which appears: Thomas A Clark
read more
Come Here to This Gate: Rory Waterman
read more
Near-Life Experience: Rowland Bagnall
read more
The Silence: Gillian Clarke
read more
|
||
We thank the Arts Council England for their support and assistance in this interactive Project.
|
|||
This website ©2000-2024 Carcanet Press Ltd
|