In our monthly subscriber-only essay Daniel Spicer has a Proustian rush listening to Elvis Presley's career concluding single Way Down, is reminded of the fragility of existence and is catapulted back into a childhood of ageing teds, biker gangs and wyrd Cornish magic...
Part-way through completing a translation of Gregor Hens’ Nicotine, our resident translation columnist Jen Calleja finds herself asking questions about authenticity and exactitude and whether or not translation is creation. (Illustration by Richard Phœnix)