Tuesday, October 13, 2026

‘Sometimes she publishes notes she’s scribbled on her hand’ / Édouard Louis on 10 reasons to love Anne Carson

Carson doesn’t try to ‘make literature’ … Louis on the Nobel-winning writer. Photograph: Golli/

‘Sometimes she publishes notes she’s scribbled on her hand’: Édouard Louis on 10 reasons to love Anne Carson

The French author discovered Carson on a bus while stranded in a snowstorm and has been enthralled by her fearless imagination ever since



Édouard Louis
Friday 9 October 2026


1. Anne Carson is one of the greatest writers of our time. I discovered her work on a Peter Pan bus from New York to New England. I’d bought Antigonick in a bookstore a few days earlier, almost randomly. From the very first lines, I was enthralled. While we were on the bus, a snowstorm suddenly blanketed the roads, and the other passengers and I found ourselves stuck for 10 hours in rural America, surrounded by an entirely white landscape. I took my computer out of my backpack and started to translate Antigonick into French. Spontaneously. I was so absorbed by the power of Carson’s text that I didn’t notice the hours pass.

2. One of Carson’s greatest strengths is that, unlike so many other contemporary writers, she doesn’t try to “make literature”. She writes. Sometimes clouds do the speaking, in her work, and sometimes monsters do; sometimes, in the middle of a collection of poems, she lets an imaginary Catherine Deneuve take over the narration. Sometimes she writes a letter to her own sleep and sometimes she publishes notes she’s scribbled on her hand. She writes about Homer, but also Rosalía; about Brecht, but also Marilyn Monroe.

3. In Carson’s work, time is upside down – out of joint, as Shakespeare writes in Hamlet. This is one of the strangest aspects of her work and it has fascinated me from my first reading. In her rewriting of Antigone, in the first scene, Antigone and her sister Ismene talk about Hegel. And yet, in Carson’s play, the conversation happens as if entirely normal, as if the ancient Greek Antigone and Ismene really had discussed Hegel together. One day, my friend Ivo van Hove decided to put on Sophocles’ Antigone and called Carson to ask her if she would do a new translation. Carson responded, “I already did a translation, titled Antigonick.” Ivo said, “Of course, but that’s not a literal translation of Sophocles – in the first scene, the two sisters talk about Hegel.” Carson responded, “That’s what’s written in Sophocles’ text. All I did was translate.”

A tribute to Carson’s brother … Nox. Photograph: Sarah Lee/The Guardian

4. One of Carson’s most wrenching texts is called Nox. In it, she tells the story of her brother, or rather, the story of her brother’s absence. When he was very young, her brother was convicted by a Canadian court. Rather than go to prison, he fled. He hid in Europe and Asia for decades under false identities. During the time of his disappearance, he would sometimes send his family a brief letter, or a postcard with quick phrases scribbled on the back. On a few occasions he called, just for a few minutes. One day, the Carson family received a call informing them of his death in Copenhagen. Carson gathered the photos she had of this brother who had just died and whom she hardly knew, and also the letters he had sent her, and she wrote fragments about her memories of him interspersed with an analysis of a poem by Catullus. She added in reflections on Herodotus and history, and very personal notes on pain and loss, reminiscent of Barthes’s Mourning Diary. Then she put all these notes into a box. And later Nox was published in the form of this box, with a single sheet of paper folded accordion-style inside bearing all the notes and images and fragments that she had accumulated. Never had a book looked like this – a shoebox with an enormous accordion foldout inside.

5. Carson thus spurns the limits of what a book is; her work Float is made up of several booklets on different subjects gathered together in a plastic envelope. Nox is indeed a box. H of H Playbook is a wide rectangular facsimile edition, impossible to put on a bookshelf. Lots of writers across history have tried to reinvent writing. Very few of them have also had the idea of reinventing what a book is, or transforming the book-object itself. Anne Carson did.

6. But Carson’s formal inventiveness should not lead us to forget the powerfully political dimension of her work. In Autobiography of Red, she takes inspiration from the ancient poet Stesichorus to tell the story of the monster killed by Hercules during his 12 labours. She chooses to tell the story of the monster, the victim, rather than repeat the tale of the hero, the executioner. She imagines a story in which a young Hercules and Geryon have a devastating homosexual affair. In her books, Carson often places herself in the position of the defeated.

7. For a long time she identified with Oscar Wilde, to the point of having a Wilde outfit that she regularly wore during her adolescence.

8. Women are also at the heart of her work, and always have been. In Norma Jeane Baker of Troy, one of her most beautiful texts, she makes Marilyn Monroe and Helen of Troy into one and the same character: two women who, despite the centuries between them, remain the object of the same masculine violence, the same dictates of obligatory beauty. Carson has also translated Sappho’s poems. And in her version of Euripides’s Bacchae, she gives an unheard-of psychological depth to the female characters.

9. On a more personal level, I can say that Carson has a distaste for the kind of social interaction that tends to come with a literary life. I sincerely believe that she likes nothing more than to be at home, writing. One day when we were signing copies of our books side by side, she said to me, “I really hate this!” Another time, after a performance we did together at the House of Literature in Oslo, she proposed that we quickly head for the restaurant in order to avoid the small talk.

10. Recently, we were talking about a trip I’m getting ready to take to Iceland, where she lives. I suggested to Anne that we do a performance together, with two voices, like we had done in the past. Then I felt bad about adding work to her life and so I sent her a follow-up message saying, “But we don’t have to do something public. We can just relax and enjoy ourselves.” Anne responded: “I prefer working. That way I don’t have to think about the world. Or myself.” How better to sum up the greatness of Anne Carson?



  • Translated by Josh Cohen

THE GUARDIAN





Digested week / Don’t worry about the plague, go and read some Anne Carson


‘I went hiking with the Nobel prize winner Anne Carson in Iceland last year … OK, it was a short walk up a rocky incline.’ Photograph: TT News Agency


Digested week: Don’t worry about the plague, go and read some Anne Carson


Emma Broockes
Friday 9 Octobre 2026

Monday

“Anyone worried about pneumonic plague?” This is a friend – a medic – texting me after reading reports at the weekend of the 28-year-old Russian woman who died while working at a “plague research lab” in Siberia. Relying on details from the famously open Russian state guaranteed the presence of a certain dark subtext to the tantalisingly short news item. Namely: lab-grown disease cultivated for reasons unknown and with a 100% mortality rate escapes Russian facility into general population, eight hours’ flying time from London. In other words, we’re all going to die.

My first thought was: is this better or worse than the time that guy who’d been exposed to Ebola took the subway to go bowling in Brooklyn? The answer to which of course is that post-Covid, it’s worse: we know exactly how these things go, how they start small, with a news in brief buried 20 pages deep in the paper, moving glacially up the news list every few days until a lonely death in a Siberian laboratory leads, step by incremental step, to the zombie apocalypse.

Meanwhile, the word “plague” remains outlandishly unrelaxing, despite the best efforts of the New York Times to contextualise it. Elucidating the various different types of plague that can kill you – pneumonic, septicemic and bubonic – I have to say my money would have been on bubonic as the worst, what with the Black Death and all. Apparently, however, the most virulent form of plague is the one in question, pneumonic, spread by a cough or a sneeze and causing “a severe rapid-onset lung infection” that can kill within a few days. Advice from my medic friend in New York: “Get antibiotics for everyone.” Alternatively, invest in a sense of proportion.

Tuesday

I did not have “let’s have more firing squads” on my bingo card of talking points this week, but that is the serious discussion under way in the US after the horrific, botched execution of Christa Pike, the convicted murderer on death row who regained consciousness and started talking on Tuesday after the state of Tennessee failed to kill her.

This was the second botched execution by the state this year, and one of the apparently 7% of all executions in the US since 1972 that have not been effective, among the most common reasons cited being expired drugs and untrained executioners, but also malfunctioning electric chairs that set fire to their occupants.

As a result, the single method of executing a prisoner in the US that has resulted in no failed attempts whatsoever is the firing squad, a phrase that raises images, incomprehensible in a supposedly modern world, of a semicircle of shooters, none bearing sole responsibility, firing in the direction of the condemned’s head. For the first time in the US military since 1945, one such execution is due to happen at Fort Hood, Texas, in December, which this week Pete Hegseth, the US defence secretary, promised to livestream in defiance of anything resembling normal human behaviour.

Wednesday


There’s likely a joke about the failure of the Tory party to lie down and accept its fate after so many lethal injections, but I can’t quite bring it home. Instead, at party conference this week in Birmingham, we saw a chipper-seeming Kemi Badenoch step out on stage to perform her pantomime version of common sense, smartly referring to the Reform party as “that” – as in “we are not uniting with that”. The Tory leader does an extremely good job of appearing to be a plain-spoken and regular human in contrast with Reform, on the one hand, and what might delicately be called the unusual makeup of the Greens on the other.

It’s worth remembering what Badenoch looks like when the mask slips. If Boris Johnson’s real face was the rictus of an underbriefed, overconfident man white-knuckling his way through government while chuckling to himself like a toy in a horror movie, Badenoch strikes me as someone who is stuck on the gimlet-eyed setting of victory at all costs. Meanwhile, footage of Young Conservatives partying at conference never gets old, offering a strong rival for most embarrassing moment to the 30,000-word policy document the Tory leader – hide your face – has self-christened “Kemistry”. Someone tell her you can’t coin your own nicknames.

Thursday

Anne Carson has won the Nobel prize for literature and, forgive me, but very occasionally when life gives you the opportunity to be insufferable, you can’t not take it. So, in response to this news, I would like to say that when I went hiking with the Nobel prize winner Anne Carson in Iceland last year the thought struck me …

There was no thought; I just wanted to get it on the table about the hike – OK, it was a short walk up a rocky incline – it was with the Nobel prize winner Anne Carson, who I have loved forever and have known since we met in Michigan many years ago. She is brilliant and funny and wise, and I could cite so many lines from her poetry but one of my favourites is this, from the poem Lines in her 2005 collection Decreation: “To my mother / love / of my life, I describe what I had for brunch.” I feel the same way about this line that Madonna used to say she felt about Frida Kahlo’s self-portrait, which is that if you don’t feel it vibrate through your system, I can’t ever really be your friend. (I’m aware most people would be fine with that.)

Friday


Sublime to ridiculous, Carson to Elon Musk, who is the subject of Alex Gibney’s four-hour documentary that launched this week and which I can’t wait to see. Pre-publicity has focused on the contributions to the film of Justine Wilson, Musk’s ex-wife, who along with MacKenzie Scott (formerly Bezos) is part of the tech titans’ first wives club via which one can measure the journey taken by very rich men from marriage to regular women to women with no apparent interior lives. “He was constantly remarking on the ways he found me lacking,” said Wilson, who also told Gibney her ex-husband once said to her: “If you were my employee, I would fire you.” No amount of money in the world, am I right?

Digested week in pictures

The Tories demonstrate how they can ruin ordinary pleasures like dogs and beer just as efficiently as Reform. Photograph: Ian Forsyth/Getty Images
‘I write the songs that make the whole world cry, I write the … ’ Photograph: Stefan Rousseau/PA
‘The key is only to make eye contact when it’s not being returned.’ Photograph: Finnbarr Webster/AFP/Getty Images

https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2026/oct/09/digested-week-plague-nobel-prize-anne-carson


THE GUARDIAN





Nox by Anne Carson / Family Album

 

Photo: Hannah Whitaker/New York Magazine

Family Album

Few things in this world have the power to make me clean my desk. One of them, it turns out, is Anne Carson’s new book-in-a-box, Nox. Before I even opened it, I felt an irresistible urge to spend twenty minutes purging my worktable of notes, napkins, magazines, forks, check stubs, unpaid bills, and fingernail clippings. The urge struck me, I think, for a couple of reasons. For one, Nox is unwieldy. It is, very deliberately, a literary object—the opposite of an e-reader designed to vanish in your palm as you read on a train. It comes in a box the size of my external hard drive, and its pages fold out, accordion-style, to colonize all your available space. More than that, though, the book radiates a kind of holy vibe that seems to demand some gesture of ritual cleansing. It’s a public facsimile of a deeply private object: a scrapbook Carson put together as a memorial to her older brother, Michael, who died unexpectedly in 2000. New Directions has reproduced this unique collage lushly, in full color, with such thorough devotion that some pages show nothing but the backs of staples. Processing it, as a reader, seems to require several acres of clear space—mental, physical, emotional, attentional—every inch of which Carsonfills, immediately, with her own special brand of clutter.

Monday, October 12, 2026

On Rosalía by Anne Carson


On Rosalía

Anne Carson


10 September 2026

 

Ihave​ a Rosalía hangover. We climbed a giant day to reach her, all twenty thousand Chicago fans. Strutting and grinning and asterisking her eyes she held their shrieking out around her like a magic cloak and changed them all to rabbits or a vase of tulips inside its folds. The white crinolines. The shrieking. So much to understand. At her every inhalation of breath the entire audience screamed as if she were raking their individual spines with her fingernail, each spine. That voice can do anything. And the persona blooms out to contain it. Imagine seducing twenty thousand people like this every night on a tour of God knows how many cities, I can’t.

Gloves on! by Anne Carson

 

Anne Carson


Gloves on!

Anne Carson


15 August 2024

So,​ your life. There it is before you – possibly a road, a ribbon, a dotted line, a map – let’s say you’re 25, then you make some decisions, do things, have setbacks, have triumphs, become someone, a bus driver, a professor of Indo-European linguistics, a pirate, a cosmetologist, years pass, maybe in a family maybe not, maybe happy maybe not, then one day you wake up and you’re seventy. Looking ahead you see a black doorway. You begin to notice the black doorway is always there, at the edge, whether you look at it or not. Most moments contain it, most moments have a sort of sediment of black doorway at the bottom of the glass. You wonder if other people are seeing it too. You ask them. They say no. You ask why. No one can tell you.

Sunday, October 11, 2026

Fox and Hedgehog / The myths of Anne Carson

 

Illustration by Lily Qian.

Fox and Hedgehog

The myths of Anne Carson

EMILY WILSON
4 June 2024


Be Canadian. Be zany. Be moody. Be relatable. Write about your mother. Write about desire. Write about trauma. Write about loneliness. Write about grief. Write about nature. Write about the body. Invoke universals. Make it mythic. Tell it slant. Do not use rhyme. Do not use meter. Use short lines. Leave a lot of space on the page. Juxtapose your words with quivery line drawings in ink or paint or collage.

Friday, October 9, 2026

‘Infinite genius’ / Yiyun Li on Anne Carson

‘She does not subjugate or manipulate her words. She lets them be’ … Anne Carson. Photograph: TT News Agency

‘Infinite genius’: Yiyun Li on Anne Carson

When her sons died the Book of Goose author turned to Grief Lessons, Carson’s translation of four plays by Euripides. She reflects on the ‘life sustaining’ work of an extraordinary writer


Yiyun Li

Friday 9 October 2026


It is preposterous to agree to write a short piece on Anne Carson’s work. The task is impossible, akin to that of solving the mathematical problem of dividing zero by zero. If one had the power to solve it, perhaps one would have some confidence in attempting to write about Anne Carson’s work. Attempting, I say, not succeeding. In attempting to do so, I shall emphasise that all words fall short in extreme situations, which not only include unfathomable losses (of children, in my case) but also include articulating anything about Anne Carson’s work.