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an admirable concern to keep lines open to writing in Ireland, Scotland, Wales and America.
Seamus Heaney
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News
Isabel Galleymore Shortlisted for Gladstone's Residency
We're pleased to share the news that Isabel Galleymore has been shortlisted for the prestigious Gladstone's Library Residency next year, for her debut collection, Significant Other , which is currently shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Best First Collection . Now into its ninth year and approaching a decade of awards, the successful Gladstone's Library Writers in Residence programme was established in association with Damian Barr (saloniere and author of You Will Be Safe Here ) to support contemporary novelists and poets, and publishing industries in the UK. read more
Dunya Mikhail is the PBS Autumn Wild Card!
We're really pleased to share the news that Dunya Mikhail 's In Her Feminine Sign has been chosen by the Poetry Book Society as their Wild Card in the Autumn 2019 Selections! read more
Fawzi Karim (1945-2019)
We were deeply saddened to learn that Fawzi Karim, well-known Iraqi poet, painter and writer, has passed away at the age of 74. read more
Featured Audio
Sinead Morrissey reads from T S Eliot Prize-winning Parallax at the Royal Festival Hall
Listen
Welcome to Carcanet Press, one of the outstanding independent literary publishers of our time. Now in its fifth decade, Carcanet publishes the most comprehensive and diverse list available of modern and classic poetry in English and in translation, as well as a range of inventive fiction, Lives and Letters and literary criticism.
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Featured News
Carcanet win Northern Small Press of the Year Award!
Carcanet are thrilled to announce that we are the winner of the British Book Award for Small Press of the Year in the Northern region! The winners were announced lat night (13th March) at the London Book Fair with Wild Things Books winning the inaugural overall Small Press of the Year award. We were honoured to be shortlisted last month alongside our friends at Comma Press, Smokestack Books, Dead Ink and Bluemoose Books, and so grateful to have been given this award. We'd like to thank the judges, The Bookseller, all of our incredible, hardworking authors, editors and translators and our team here in Manchester. Independent publishing is vital, and the creation of this award category is a victory for all small presses. This is an honour; we are very thankful. A special mention to Comma Press who were highly commended at the awards last night too - we're proud to work alongside you, and of all the work you do. read more... |
Featured Author
Lucy Burnett
Lucy Burnett is from south-west Scotland, and in recent years has been based in the north of England. She currently lives in Cockermouth, where she gets out in the fells at every opportunity, and works as Senior Lecturer in Creative Writing at the University of Cumbria. Previously she has worked at...read more |
Poem of the Day
and Pierre?
With his ripe face like one of those pale freckled pears
you hold in your hand and his mind shuddering across it
like a bruise – he’s legible to all the world. With his great legs,
broad and strong as the trees, he walks in and out of chapters
smelling of eau de cologne, or an animal that sleeps in a barn.
With his long fingers running across the stubble on his jaw,
he listens to the black Russian rain before he picks up his pen.
With his eyes so blue you’d think he’d drunk the sky down
with all that champagne, he watches the soldiers (red epaulettes
and high boots) drag that boy to the place where they shoot him.
He watches the boy pull his loose coat tight before he sags and slides
down the post. And when it’s all over, he watches them roll him
gently into the hole with the others and before he can look away
he sees, there in the earth, the boy’s shoulder still moving.
Taken from 'New Poetries VII'...you hold in your hand and his mind shuddering across it
like a bruise – he’s legible to all the world. With his great legs,
broad and strong as the trees, he walks in and out of chapters
smelling of eau de cologne, or an animal that sleeps in a barn.
With his long fingers running across the stubble on his jaw,
he listens to the black Russian rain before he picks up his pen.
With his eyes so blue you’d think he’d drunk the sky down
with all that champagne, he watches the soldiers (red epaulettes
and high boots) drag that boy to the place where they shoot him.
He watches the boy pull his loose coat tight before he sags and slides
down the post. And when it’s all over, he watches them roll him
gently into the hole with the others and before he can look away
he sees, there in the earth, the boy’s shoulder still moving.
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