I am a writer and editor based in London. My work has appeared in the Guardian, FT Weekend, New Statesman, Times Literary Supplement, Huff Post UK, White Review,  LA Review of Books, The Calvert Journal, Coda Story and TANK. I write predominantly about literature, culture and the Caucasus – often all three at once.

  • Dubravka Ugrešić: a droll genius with an unwavering devotion to literature

  • In conversation with Geoff Dyer

  • Rombo by Esther Kinsky — oral histories of an Italian earthquake

  • Where You Come From by Sasa Stanisic – fragmented lives

  • The Censor’s Notebook by Liliana Corobca – an intimate exposé of totalitarian Romania

  • My Soul Twin by Nino Haratischvili review – the curse of the past

  • 'Love’s labours should be lost': Maria Stepanova, Russia's next great writer

  • Kapka Kassabova’s To the Lake: a vivid blend of travelogue, history and memoir

  • The Suitcase by Frances Stonor Saunders — baggage reclaim

  • Scattered All Over the Earth – what it means to belong

  • Beirut, in Shorthand

  • A Different Country – on Soviet history and the discovery of a Georgian identity

  • Swiss Made – searching for Swissness in Lausanne

  • Bolla by Pajtim Statovci review – illicit love in the shadow of war

  • Nino Haratischvili: 'I never understood how Georgians could be proud of Stalin'

  • ‘I was frightened every single day’: the perils of guarding Stalin

  • Manaschi by Hamid Ismailov – Better a hell you can agree with

    TLS

  • In Maria Reva’s Kafkaesque satire, puzzled occupants discover their Soviet tower block doesn’t exist

  • ‘Our city froze’: rereading Kolau Nadiradze’s 1921 poem on Georgia’s lost independence

  • ‘I wanted this book to be a reconciliation’: Lea Ypi on growing up in communist Albania

  • JON FOSSE: “Writing is creating a form that is its own universe, rules by its own laws”

  • ‘No-Signal Area’: a piercing novel on the villains and victims of capitalism

  • My Streaming Gem: My Happy Family by Nana Ekvtimishvili

  • VALZHYNA MORT: “A singing voice – and a screaming voice – is the furthest we can stand outside of our bodies”