Kat Lister

Jan 18, 2025 | thequietus.com | Bobby Barry |Kat Lister

Around thirty pages into Elaine Kraf’s 1979 novella, The Princess of 72nd Street, we encounter our narrator, Ellen, riding up and down in her apartment elevator, embracing anyone who enters it: “sweet people, the mean ones, old, young, the pushers, heroin addicts, cocaine snorters, drunks, married men.” In Ellen’s eyes, this ordinary lift has been transformed into a magical box “with blue lights gleaming from its roof and walls of flaming orange.” It is, on this particular evening, a conduit...

Dec 28, 2024 | theguardian.com | Kat Lister

In the 18th century, physicians went looking for a nostalgia bone, as though a person’s yearning for a past time or place could be assigned to a chunk of tissue. But for me, writing in the 21st, the stimulus can be found not in the body I’m in, but the memories I carry. And in particular, as I edge further into my 40s, the memories of coastland I visited in the 1980s: a four-mile stretch in south-east Cornwall where my family and I summered each year with my grandmother.

Dec 1, 2024 | msn.com | Kat Lister

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Dec 1, 2024 | theguardian.com | Kat Lister

The 2cm wound to the right of my bellybutton had been oozing for days. A syrupy weep in the well of my abdomen. A surgical pothole so small that it felt almost indulgent to photograph it in my bathroom mirror. As if these tiny keyhole incisions dotted around my swollen stomach – one, two, three, four, five of them – bore no relation to the magnitude of the plunder beneath. Magnitude. Or, should I say: weight.

Oct 24, 2024 | theguardian.com | Kat Lister

Julia Greenberg was in a friend’s car, driving through New England, when a playful ballad about a Hollywood down-and-out came on the stereo. Who is this, shewondered. “She sounded so wholly unique,” Greenberg says, 15 years later, on a video call from her home in New York.