From Valley Press came a science fiction anthology, the winner of last year’s longest title award: Science Fiction For Survivaclass="underline" An Archive For Mars, Terra Two Anthology: Volume One edited by Liesl King and Robert Edgar. Terra Two, it turns out, is an online magazine hosted by York St John University. Down the A19 and right a bit, Catherine Taylor edited The Book of Sheffield for Comma Press’s ongoing ‘A City in Short Fiction’ series. At least, I hope it’s ongoing. There wasn’t a bad story in this anthology. Leaving aside Philip Hensher’s ‘Visiting the Radicals’, a novel extract, stories by Margaret Drabble, Geoff Nicholson, Gregory Norminton, Naomi Frisby and Tim Etchells were all strong, but there was something somehow more mysterious about Helen Mort’s ‘Weaning’ that appealed to me. Etchells’ Endland (And Other Stories) took me back to his 1999 collection Endland Stories from Pulp Books, an imprint of Elaine Palmer’s seminal small press Pulp Faction. The new volume combined reprints from the previous work with new stories.
Etchells’ stories fizz with the kind of disruptive energy that animates the contents of I Transgress, an anthology of mostly previously unpublished work edited by Chris Kelso for Salò Press, which has also been publishing original short stories in chapbook format, which it calls, rather wonderfully, ‘Flirtations’. Andrew Hook’s ‘The Girl With the Horizontal Walk’ was one of these. Another chapbook, NJ Stallard’s The White Cat, a beautifully crafted artefact, arrived from The Aleph, which ‘designs and publishes rare and limited editions’; these are definitely worth investigating.
One of the highlights of volume 12 of Bristol Short Story Prize Anthology (Tangent Books) was Cherise Saywell’s yearning tale of satellites, human beings and a dog, ‘Fellow Travellers’, while issue number 16 of The Mechanics Institute Review was, I think, the biggest and most handsome volume yet in that publication’s history. Billing itself ‘The Climate Issue’, it features stories (and poems and essays) by established and emerging writers alongside MA/MFA students from Birkbeck. The project director is Julia Bell and the managing editor is Sue Tyley, who has a sizeable editorial team working with her. In this volume the editors have saved, in my opinion and talking only about the short stories, the best till last, with two very strong pieces at the back of the book, ‘Gold’ by Lorraine Wilson and ‘This Place is No Vegas’ by KM Elkes. Wilson writes beautifully about birds, and Elkes about life, death and ponds. Wilson writes about life and death as well, and bird baths, if not ponds.
Issue 11 of The Lonely Crowd was packed with good stories from Iain Robinson, Jo Mazelis, Jaki McKarrick, Susanna Crossman, Niall Griffiths, Gary Budden and many others. I had not previously come across Mal, ‘a journal of sexuality and erotics’. Edited by Maria Dimitrova, its fourth issue, ‘Real Girls’, focuses on ‘girlhood and agency’. Luke Brown’s story, ‘Beyond Criticism’, appears alongside pieces by Natasha Stagg and Chris Kraus as well as poetry and illustrations. Simply yet beautifully designed, it is a sharp, intelligent publication. I hadn’t come across The New Issue either, but that is because it is a brand-new publication, a subscription-only magazine from the Big Issue, edited by Kevin Gopal. Issue 1 featured a new story by Sarah Hall taken from her new collection Sudden Traveller. Another new magazine, which I discovered too late to think about picking either or both of the excellent stories by Martin MacInnes and Janice Galloway, is Extra Teeth, put together in Scotland by Heather Parry, Jules Danskin and Esther Clayton.
I enjoyed Michael Holloway’s story, ‘The Devil and My Dad’, in issue 23 of Open Pen, edited by Sean Preston. The same writer pops up in Still Worlds Turning: New Short Fiction, edited by Emma Warnock for Belfast-based No Alibis Press, with an entertaining account purporting to be ‘From Andy Warhol’s Assistant, 1964’. It was one of the highlights for me, along with stories by Joanna Walsh, Eley Williams, Lucy Caldwell and Sam Thompson (I think I’ve stayed in his ‘Seafront Gothic’ hotel).
I read one story last year by a highly regarded author in a very prestigious magazine. In many ways it was masterful, but one thing bothered me. Point of view is handed around like cups of Earl Grey. Not a flicker of emotion was there, either, in this story of mortality. It’s the sort of carefully written story that I have to force myself to finish reading. I find myself wondering what must such stories be like to write? What motivates the authors of such stories to keep going? They’re very fine, but rather dull. And what about point of view? Is it all right to let it float around so much – or at all? If you write in the first person, you restrict yourself to that point of view, so why not restrict yourself in third-person narratives as well? At least within paragraphs, or sections. And yet, in at least one of the stories included in the present volume, point of view is all over the place. Maybe it bothered me, fleetingly, but there was something exciting about the story that seduced me, that made me think maybe I get too worked up about point of view.
Here’s a point of view to end on. It’s about the Paris Review’s announcement of a ‘call for applications to our volunteer reader program’. The Paris Review went on: ‘This is in anticipation of an expansion to online submissions after sixty-six years of accepting unsolicited submissions only in hardcopy manuscripts. (We will continue to receive and consider manuscripts submitted by mail to our New York office.) In this new iteration of our submission process, we hope to grow a far-reaching network of readers who will be responsible for assessing unsolicited submissions of both prose and poetry.’
Hang on there un petit moment. The Paris Review is recruiting volunteer readers to assess submissions?
It goes on: ‘One of our goals is to equip readers with technical language and critical acumen (such as the composition of reader’s reports) necessary for assessment of contemporary literary work. We hope that they will be able to bring these skills with them after their time as readers with The Paris Review, particularly those who wish to pursue a career in publishing. Therefore, applicants at a stage where they feel they would benefit from such coaching, whether in a graduate program, recently post-grad, or interested in gaining a foothold in publishing, are strongly encouraged to apply. However, we will consider candidates at any point in their lives, in any location, so long as they are excited about the project of assessing new writing on The Review’s behalf.’
Alors, an exciting democratisation of the gatekeeper role at the Paris Review? Or they want you to go and work for them, virtually as editors, but without paying you un sou?
It goes on (it does go on): ‘This is a volunteer position requiring at least 5 hours of reading time a week, which can be done remotely, with a commitment of at least six months. Hours can be completed at any time during the day and week. Interested candidates should provide a resume, cover letter, and a half-to-one-page reader’s report on a piece of fiction or poetry published in a magazine or journal (not in The Paris Review) in the past year.’