The Books of My Numberless Dreams

A plethora of journals

Posted on: May 3, 2007

I was sitting in my favourite cafe a few weeks ago when another regular stopped by my table to hand me a book, saying, “I know that you enjoy these sort of publications and I thought you’d like to try this one.” What he had given me was the winter/spring 2007 issue of Fence, a journal that had flashed on my mental periphery when the cover of one of its previous issues made the rounds on the internet months ago. The big grab for me was the Robert Bolano fiction of course. But it doesn’t appear to be a big enough grab to get me to actually take it off the shelf: its currently leaning on an Adichie novel, which is leaning on a tall book stack, beside a tea cup and painkillers.

It joins the assorted copies of NYRB, TLS, Paris Review and LRB in the chaos that is my bedroom. Then Mr. Philp decides to bring my attention to yet another lit magazine, The Caribbean Review of Books. What am I to do? I’ve already been trying to jigger my budget into allowing me to subscribe to Caribbean Writing Today and now there’s another one? That comes in paper form? (The ideal medium.)

For now I think I’ll have to let the CRB’s blog Antilles satisfy my hunger. (For a whole year and then I’ll have to knock off one of my other subscriptions for it. :'()

To make myself feel better I’ll post some poetry from the latest Paris Review. (You’ll like it too.) I was annoyed when I first read this poem because I thought Olds was, in an indirect way, engaging in some predictable Bush-bashing. Here we go psychoanalysing him in an arguably mean fashion. The second time around I had to reject that position. This was not even close to what Olds was trying to do — instead she was asking her readers to take a closer look at a possibility, one that does not invite censure so much as sympathy and understanding.

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*Pardon the red lines, that was my web-browser spell checker poo pooing American English.

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2 Responses to "A plethora of journals"

I’ve gone a bit journal crazy lately, picking up copies of Swink and The Golden Handcuffs Review (great name, eh?). I wanted the latest issue of A Public Space, but the finances didn’t allow.

And I have yet to pick them up since they landed on the overpiled desk in my bedroom.

Ooooo, I’ve wanted to try A Public Space for ages, but of course no stores here have copies for me to pick up. 😦

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