Josephine Rowe

Nov 30, 2024 | themonthly.com.au | Josephine Rowe |Kath Kenny |Anna Goldsworthy |Margaret Simons

The saint is nameless when she comes to Orrin Bird. By horse float, of all things. Though he cannot say what other mode of transport might have been more appropriate, given circumstances. She could hardly have come by rail, accompanied or otherwise. He supposes she might have come by hearse. Though hearses are scarce enough out here, and to receive a casket, a box of any kind from such a vehicle, would have brought attention, prying in the guise of condolences.

Oct 14, 2024 | blackincbooks.com.au | Josephine Rowe

A mesmerising tale from one of Australia’s literary stars ‘He has no notion of how to care for a saint. Even a small one. Does not even believe … Still. Catholic or not. You don't turn away a saint.’ In the north-western corner of 1950s Australia, a saint arrives at the home of a retired engineer, who unwittingly becomes her custodian. A girl of indeterminate age, her body remains as it was when she died, incorruptible. And though no one knows it, she is conscious, reflecting on past and present.

Feb 12, 2024 | hochparterre.ch | Josephine Rowe

Josephine Rowe wuchs in Australien auf. Als Writer in Residence in Zürich hat sie sich auf Spurensuche nach ihren Schweizer Vorfahren begeben – und auf eine Zeitreise.

Feb 9, 2024 | thesaturdaypaper.com.au | Josephine Rowe

I used to believe you would be able to find me anywhere. Anywhere on this blue-green fluke of a planet, no matter where in the world I had moved since you died. The Earth being so small, after all, and the spirit, once uncoupled from the awkward burden of the body, might be free to travel anywhere, light-years in a blink – Etruscan battlefields, the inscription of Nazca Lines, birdlife returning to Krakatoa after a desolate quarter-century.

Jul 7, 2023 | thesaturdaypaper.com.au | Josephine Rowe

Full moon at the fall of the high season. The houses that stand empty look like old film cameras: Polaroids and Ektralites, the blocky ’80s instamatics of childhood Kodachrome beach holidays – smile, wait, sorry, forgot to wind it on, keep smiling – and maybe this is intentional, an architectural effort at recovery, the lost albums and shoeboxes of negatives flooded or burnt up or left behind. Or maybe it just encourages a certain kind of looking. These are the packed-down, cleared-out places.