Kei te pehea koe?

Nic Low is a writer, installation artist and arts organiser of Ngai Tahu Maori and European descent. He divides his time between a hyper-social Melbourne sharehouse, and an anti-social bush retreat. His first book is Arms Race, a collection of fierce, playful short stories out with Text Publishing. His second, a literary walking expedition through New Zealand’s Southern Alps, comes out in 2017.

Nic has published essays and short fiction in The Monthly, Griffith REVIEW, The Big Issue, Overland, The Lifted Brow, Cordite, Art Monthly, Australian Book Review, The Press, the Sunday Star Times and various suspect anthologies. He was runner up in the 2013 Overland Short Story Competition, shortlisted for the 2012 Commonwealth Short Story Prize, and received a 2011 GREW Prize for non-fiction.

 

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ARMS RACE & other stories

Data theft, internet memes, advertising, terrorism, indigenous sovereignty, drone warfare, opium addiction, syphilis, the moon landing, mining, oil slicks, climate change, giant octopuses: in this collection nothing is spared. These stories go beyond satire, aiming for the dark heart of our collective obsession with technology, power and image.

Shortlisted for the Readings Prize and the Queensland Literary Awards; A Listener Best Book; an Australian Book Review Short Story Book of the Year.
"Fierce and uncompromising ... seductive and frightening" - The Australian
"a bristling, playful energy" - Sydney Morning Herald
"brazenly funny" - The Thousands

 Arms Race cover - small

Set variously in London, a Rajasthani village, remote Mongolia, the West Australian outback and mountainous New Zealand, these are prescient visions of the future and outlandish reimaginings of the past. Arms Race is an arresting debut from a fierce, playful new voice in Australian writing.

ARMS RACE REVIEWS AND MEDIA
  • Fukuyama was wrong. History hasn't ended. It's been outsourced.

    General Hurtz
  • The man had a heavy beard, and the kind of morose gravity that makes talkative people act like fools. Filling his silence would be like shovelling sand into the sea.

    The Lotus Eaters
  • This bar has been full of drunken Frenchmen since the year 1893. It has never been empty. These seats pass like batons in a relay. We sit and try to remember why we are here, but the truth is—we have come here to forget.

    The Lotus Eaters

the lowdown

All the news that's unfit for print

  • Fukuyama was wrong. History hasn't ended. It's been outsourced.

    General Hurtz
  • The man had a heavy beard, and the kind of morose gravity that makes talkative people act like fools. Filling his silence would be like shovelling sand into the sea.

    The Lotus Eaters
  • This bar has been full of drunken Frenchmen since the year 1893. It has never been empty. These seats pass like batons in a relay. We sit and try to remember why we are here, but the truth is—we have come here to forget.

    The Lotus Eaters