’Mslexia’ is marketed at “women who write” and features fiction and poetry by women. The magazine has a high reputation for its non-fiction articles on the publishing world. Issue 25 contains the following articles: The Death of the Hardback Novel, Writing For Women’s Weeklies, The Small Press Revolution. There’s also a piece on the problems of autobiographical writing (in terms of what to reveal and what to leave out), and another item covers the blurb on the back of book covers. Fiction and poetry in each issue are always themed.

The stories and poems in Issue 25 are on the subject of dogs. Judy Dawson’s ‘Dog Fight’ is the strongest piece of writing, a brilliant, vital, edgy, funny story told in dialect. It’s the language of the hip hop generation, where women are bitches - Dawson has chosen the least literal interpretation of the dog theme. ‘Neela’s Lucky Penny’ by Shubha Venugopal is also worth a mention. It starts as an affectionate portrait of a dog, Penny, but as things progress the reader comes to understand that Neela, Penny’s owner, is a recent immigrant to the United States, and Penny is Neela’s emotional lifeline, her escape from a husband who expects his dinner on the table, and his house cleaned. ‘The Stupid Dog’ by Pat Murgatroyd centres more on a young girl who is slowly revealed to have learning difficulties. Her dog literally saves her from a sexual assault in a park.

Of the poems, ‘The Smell of Wet Dogs’ by Vicky Adderley is particularly strong, but Kerry Ryan’s ‘Old Dogs’ is also worth a mention, as is ‘In Passing’ by Anna Woodford.

On a less positive note, the bios of the women writers in this magazine often refer to the number of hours they write a week, or the difficulty they have in finding time to write. Sometimes there’s a sense that they are struggling to justify the time they give to writing in busy lives where they also work, look after children, and probably do most of the domestic chores. The issues expressed in these bios are not matched in bios of male writers in other magazines.

Moving on to ‘Magma,’ one of the UK’s best poetry magazines, there’s more good poetry in issue 31, though perhaps not quite as good as issue 30, which had the advantage of being the 10th anniversary issue. Tim Turnbull is the showcased poet this time round. The best thing in 31 though is Roddy Lumsden’s often tongue-in-cheek article, ‘Mistakes Poets Make.’ It was written after he canvassed fellow poets on poets’ most annoying flaws. The responses are anonymous, to spare blushes. Here are a few choice words of advice:

“If you think you’re a genius, seek therapy, not a publisher.”

“Ending. A. Poem. Like. This. Is. Often. Crap.”

“Retorts like ‘But I am a free verse poet’ do not excuse rhythmically devoid, bizarrely enjambed work from being shit.”

There’s also advice on readings - don’t read too many poems or take up too much time, it’s bad manners. Don’t use The Poetry Voice when you’re performing. Find out something about the venue you’re performing in before you go there. Don’t rush to get published. If you win a competition, expect it to be followed by ten years in the wilderness. Lumsden’s article ought to be issued to all poets and writers.

’Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet’ is a very different magazine, containing poetry and fiction. The poetry on the whole is less impressive than the fiction which successively bridges the literary and genre worlds with strange, off-beat tales that venture into the fantastic while somehow remaining grounded in the real world. This really is a magazine worth checking out, regardless of whether you favour genre or literary fiction. The editors have put together, in Issue 15, a beguiling concoction.

‘‘Eft’ or ‘Epic’’ by Sarah Micklem is a fictional note by a translator on a four line fragment of a lost third century poem from the Roeblish culture. Words are analysed for their myriad meanings in the language of this strange culture where people have so many different words for different kinds of smiles and laughter that they can analyse more effectively facial expressions. But their ability, rooted in language and its relation to perception, has rendered them unable to express themselves facially or in laughter with strangers, lest their own emotions be revealed.

’Mary’ by Bruce McAllister, a stand-out story, follows an American boy in a school on the Ligurian Sea where Shelley drowned 140 years before in a storm. The boy writes stories in class under the tolerant eye of a hunchback teacher. The stories are fantastic, and Mary Shelley haunts the boy’s thoughts. But his family leave the area and when he returns as an adult, eager to show his former teacher that he has indeed become a writer, the man is no longer there. There are conflicting stories about his death. Without his former mentor, the writer loses his reason to write, but one day:

“…as if in a miracle, as if it were a story being told or dreamed by another, he thought of Mary Shelley, her drowned husband and the son she’d had to raise alone, a castle and poisoned cats and a hunchback who, cursed with the living soul of a long-dead poet, loved a woman he could never have, and the boy felt this, and was able to write again.”

Then there’s ‘At the Rue des Boulangers Bridge Café’ by John Trey which is so wonderfully strange and better read than described. ‘The Beard of God’ by Michael Northrop is another great story, and the eerie atmosphere of this one begins on the very first line: “Fog has laid siege to this little island, smothering it in a gauze of hushed vapour. It is a fog so thick that it seems to blot out not only sight but also sound and even meaning. It is a slate too blank to be written on.” A strange fog has engulfed a community, cutting it off from the outside world. Anyone caught out in the fog disappears. The narrator, unlike the other characters taking refuge in a cottage, has seen this fog before, as a young boy on a Scout camp, where he was the only survivor of a tragedy no one could understand. This story opts for atmosphere rather than John Carpenter-style horror, and is a fine and memorable piece of writing. The fog is, of course, the beard of God. ‘Lord Goji’s Wedding’ by Richard Parks is another of the gems in this issue. A couple of the other stories wander on a bit much, but on the whole, ‘Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet’ is a first class magazine.

’Monday Night’ is an annually published West Coast American magazine based in the Bay Area. Issue three is the first to feature only the work of contributors from outside the magazine’s founding group. Poetry, prose, and artwork appear. Although this magazine is still in its early days, it really shows promise. There’s a lovely mix of poetic prose, autobiographical prose, and more obvious fiction pieces. In ‘Circles,’ Cynthia Audet deals sensitively with the aftermath of breast cancer and surgery. ‘Land of Roses’ by LJ Catto sees a trophy wife in a marriage to a rich older man buying a dog against her husband’s wishes. Pets and children were banned from this loveless marriage, but his wife has rebelled on both counts, only to find herself jealous of the dog her young daughter whispers secrets to. In a fit of rage, she kills the dog accidentally. The husband may very well go the same way. ‘Pencils like Daggers’ by Tomas is a wonderful piece about a mixed race Mexican-white boy. It has a strong autobiographical feel to it, but could function just as easily as a fiction story. ‘Montana Seafood’ by Sean Craven is another well-written story. There are other prose pieces too. Of the poetry, Harlan Mackey’s ‘Opening The Book of Kells’ is worth a read, though the line length could have been longer to draw out the poem’s lyricism. Short lines give Sara Toruno’s ‘Coffee and Donuts’ a staccato rhythm that might have been avoided by running on the lines a little longer. ‘Big Dreams’ by Tom McCarthy starts with the simple image of a raindrop and grows from there into things larger, and also more personal. ‘Childhood’ by Ash Stewart meanwhile takes a darker turn into abuse. On the evidence of Issue Three, Monday Night is a magazine to look out for.

All these magazines are worth checking out, but ‘Lady Churchill’ walks off with the honours this time. Although the poetry wasn’t particularly impressive in this issue, the mix of fiction made it the most memorable magazine. A wonderful literary-speculative brew. ‘Mysexia’ though is excellent for its informative articles on writing, writers, and the publishing world.

Kara Kellar Bell is a film and media graduate from the West of Scotland, with a passion for European novels, French films, silent cinema, and Brazilian music (everything from Daniela Mercury and other pop stars through to bossa nova). As a writer, she likes to have room to move around creatively, so she’s not located in one genre. She writes realism and also stories of a more fantastic nature, usually grounded to some extent in the real world. She also takes delight in writing across the sexual spectrum, and as a bisexual, considers it important to remind people that things are not always black and white, either/or, in sexuality or in gender. For a selection of Kara’s writing on the Showcase section of this site, click here

© 2005 Laura Hird All rights reserved.