Losing the Plot
This is the text of the 2025 Stinging Fly lecture, which was delivered by Sarah Moss at Pearse Street Library in Dublin on September 25th 2025.| The Stinging Fly
This is the text of the 2025 Stinging Fly lecture, which was delivered by Sarah Moss at Pearse Street Library in Dublin on September 25th 2025.| The Stinging Fly
It is early June and I leave the aircon on high. I am driving two and a half hours from the airport to Monzón, the hometown of my wife María. My mother-in-law Pilar is to be buried this afternoon. I only brought an overnight bag with me and wore my suit on the early flight. María has been in Monzón since the previous month for the deathbed vigils. I am going for the night and flying home tomorrow at 12 noon. María and I had it planned for months, years even. Fionn, our son, is being look...| The Stinging Fly
The gull lifted her wing and winced: the size of an eye, the wound was red and weeping. Inhaling deeply, she blinked and stretched out a leg. It was early morning, the town still and quiet. Across the rooftops the sun was rising, and the ferris wheel glistened in the yolk-orange light. This is happening, she told herself. Closing her eyes, she attempted to relieve the tightness in her chest, to bring lightness to her breathing, but then a mob of cawing crows swooped down beside her.| The Stinging Fly
Gregor Montgomery, she told me, was a man of such standing, of such unimpeachable gravitas, that no matter the location of a party, he was surely known by at least two attendees in any given room at any given time before his arrival, such had his legend spread. All who had heard of this icon, … Continue reading "The Gregor Montgomery"| The Stinging Fly
There’s a place on the road to the west where there’s a car park for a lake. Traffic signs announce a viewpoint with little triangles that are supposed to show there’s something nice to look at. People stop in the car park and sit on the grass drinking tea from flasks. We used to go there, when my children were younger. | The Stinging Fly
The noise from the pub cuts off abruptly as the door swings shut. She hesitates, not knowing where he has parked his car, and he gestures up the road towards the square. His other hand lifts towards, although does not quite touch, the small of her back.| The Stinging Fly
