THROUGH PROSE TO SEE THE WORLD MORE CLEARLY
The Bohemian Writers Club is an experiment in writing courageously, creatively, uncomfortably.
"It was like two unsolvable riddles imprinted on my mind: how can humans be so violent, and how can humans be so sublime?”
(Han Kang, 2024 Nobel Prize in Literature)
About the boo
It responds to Ottessa Moshfegh’s call for stories that live in an amoral universe, past the political agendas on social media. We have imaginations for a reason. We need characters in novels to be free to range into the dark and wrong. How else will we understand ourselves?
It is thus a space for story truths more than happening truths: stories designed to catch-and-release the firestorm that is our world. Of what it feels like to be caught up in something you don’t control. For stories judged not by factual accuracy but by their resonance: stories that restructure worlds and make people feel stuff.
And it can be a space for intelligent polemics and behind the scenes confessionals on the experience of fieldwork and theorising. A space for the psychedelic and ruminative — beautifully rendered, always.
This then is where we promise to write thoughtfully, candidly, experimentally about whatever it is which we have come into this world to say — and damn the consequences.
Want to be a member?
Consider yourself one.
- London Pride Banner by STIK, 2016. STIK is a sculptor and painter known for his emotive stick-figure style and dedication to radical social causes. The Hackney based artist has painted some of the largest public artworks across Europe, Asia, and America since emerging from the British street art movement of the early 2000s. STIK’s artwork is now in many major international museums and collections.
Fiction Stories
by Erik Dane For an American like me – a born-and-bred East Coaster, a headstrong, pensive brand manager, a heartbreak-escaping, late night jogger – you’d think the hardest part of living in Paris would be the language. Until today, I…
by Markus Hällgren One motherfucker. Grey-man takes his keys from his right pocket and moves them to his left hand. His mind is set on one thing only. Two motherfuckers. The man with grey hair on his temples takes two…
“Salman Toor, Bar Boy, 2019”
“Jenna Gribbon, A piss that’s not abject, 2021”
Nonfiction Stories
(for Odie, who went for us, and William, who inspired me to tell of it) by Richard O’Quinn Things were already underway by the time I arrived. Word had made it back of the explosion, injuries, and deaths and the…
by Loïc Wacquant A dark-skinned, broad-shouldered, African American with searching eyes and a slight stutter, Jake “the Snake” Torrance resides in a depressed neighborhood of the depressed industrial town of East Chicago, Indiana. He rents an unfinished basement in the house…
by Chase La Rosa Nav always had to take a shit twenty minutes into his Officer of the Deck watch, which was funny to everyone except Weps, who had to stop eating his off-going meal and re-take the watch. This…