PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Mark FordLetters And So It Goes
Letters from Young Mr Grace
(aka John Ashbery)

(PN Review 239)
Henry Kingon Toby Martinez de las Rivas
(PN Review 244)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Tim Parksin conversation with Natalia Ginzburg
(PN Review 49)
Next Issue Sharif Elmusa on Mourid Barghouti Lorna Goodison Christmas Poem Brian Morton Now Patricia Craig Val Warner: a reminiscence John McAuliffe Bill Manhire in Conversation
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Welcome to PN Review, 'probably the most informative and entertaining poetry journal in the English-speaking world' (John Ashbery)

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Anticipated publication dates for 2021:

Issue 257 January/February - published
Issue 258 March/April - published
Issue 259 May/June
Issue 260 July/August
Issue 261 September/October
Issue 262 November/December
PN Review 258
Featured Article
Vienna Marius Kociejowski A green Tyrolean hat with a feather tucked in its side was the reason I swore never to go back to Vienna. Also there had been the man at the cash till in the shop of the Kunsthistorisches Museum who, when I bought some postcards, took each one and slowly bent it, not so much that it would cause a crease but enough to indicate his opinion of me while at the same time putting himself just beyond the reach of accusation. Pettiness is the functionary’s most finely honed weapon and against it there is very little by way of defence except, perhaps, pretending not to notice. I rack my brain for a likeness of him, a single detail, a broken button or an unruly eyelash, anything to give him a voice, a presence, but it was all such a long time ago and, if my calculations are correct, the silly fool is in his grave. Why, though, this ridiculous exercise of power? Did he not, as I do, have to bow down to tie his shoelaces? Are we not, by this act alone, made humble?

Another reason for my intense dislike of Vienna was that not a single B&B would give us a bed for the night, every enquiry we made met with a sharp nein even when rooms were advertised as available. It was almost as if there were some network of spies, warning people in advance of a suspicious, roving couple. It would be the same story, a day later, in Salzburg where finally we got a room in a small hotel owned by an Italian couple. These are the only times in my life ... read more
‘Grodzinksi’s Kosher Bakery’ and Other Poems
Michael Brett Tomorrow it will all run backwards

Tomorrow, it will all run backwards:

The steel tsunamis will froth back upwards
And become solid again.
The planes will be pulled out like javelins
And slide backwards, swallowing their vapour trails.

Tomorrow, everyone will be fine.

Tomorrow, everyone who died will come home.
They will sit again at the tables of home
And rejoin life’s fellowship, its snapshots
... read more
In Conversation with John Ash
Jeffrey Kahrs This interview is taken from a series of conversations I had with John Ash in the spring of 2010. We met several times and always chatted around four or five in the afternoon for an hour to an hour and a half, when the sunlight would come through his windows for a short while. This was the best time to catch him because he usually read and wrote in the early afternoon, sipping on his rakı, so by the time we spoke later he was lubricated but still cogent, which often meant he was feeling contrary. Interviewing John took patience. He hated to be photographed, refused to sell his manuscripts – even though he certainly could have used the money – and rarely acquiesced to even the shortest of interviews. I persevered because I knew his health was more fragile than he was willing to admit and ... read more
Selected from the Archive...
in conversation with Natalia Ginzburg Tim Parks After a hopeless night in a couchette the train was two hours late arriving. I had to rush across a Rome I don't know to get to my appointment on time. My tape recorder had already decided not to work and I was relieved. My motive, anyway, in arranging this interview had been more to have an excuse to meet a writer whose work I admire than to achieve a journalistic scoop, and tape recorders are embarrassing. Thus the interview was noted down immediately afterwards between showers of spring rain on the steps of Piazza di Spagna.

Ginzburg was not disappointing. Small, white-haired, bright-eyed and modestly dressed, she met me in her office at the publishers Einaudi. Forthright in general and self-effacing as far as her own work was concerned, she was quick to say she didn't know as ... read more
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