Celia and I made 24-hour zines together, but we only spent 12 hours on them. Hers is an adoring and adorable mini Sherman Alexie fanzine, because she is an adoring and adorable fan of the American Indian fiction writer.
Alice Bag, whose name was Anglicized from Alicia in elementary school, and whose last name is a moniker from her late 70s punk band The Bags, shares her coming-of-age story in short, episodic chapters, that are not unlike punk songs. They're hard and fast and sometimes leave you wanting to slam into something. The essays are not polished, a characteristic that takes nothing away, and adds to their authenticity.
There was a point in our musical development where our live shows were all energy and chaos, and I felt like I'd inadvertently unleashed the wrath of Kali upon the world of punk.
One night while I was onstage, I noticed that the landscape was changing before my eyes. As I looked out into the audience, I could see that the once quirky men and women artists who prized originality above all else were being replaced by a belligerent, male-dominated mob who became anonymous, camouflaged by their homogeneous appearance. I didn't mind the belligerent part; in fact playing for a belligerent group of individuals can be quite satisfying. What I didn't like was the sameness. In the past, audiences were full of men and women in wildly colored plumage; now the black leather jacket was emerging as the uniform of the new regime.
I knew Alison Bechdel was brilliant, but I didn't realize she was so smart. Her memoir about her relationship with her mother is multilayered, in that it's about psychology, psychiatry, and psychotherapy; literature, feminism, and aging & menopause (maybe I'm reading these last two into it a bit), as well about how Ma & Alison Bechdel did or didn't and do or don't get along.
It's hard to write a competent review for this minicomic perzine. I really just want to show you all of the comics so you can see for yourself how brilliant they are. But that would be obnoxious.
A friend sent me the unpublished manuscript of her collected writings about her unexpected pregnancy--making the decision she did, her relationship with the baby's father, pro-choice Christian spirituality, and lots of other great stuff. I look forward to the book being published so I can go into more detail about it. For now I'll just say that L is an excellent writer and while reading her book-to-be, I kept thinking of all the people I wanted to share it with.
I read this book. It is the autobiography of a pioneering distance runner who broke down barriers for women athletes. It is very good. I am sick right now and can't offer more than that.
If you remember my gushing review of Emily's Parfait zine, you know I'm a fan. Basil Is Dying, about the passing of her beloved tabby will not disappoint you, but it will probably make you cry.
The Encyclopedia of Doris is more than the sum of its Dorises. I'm often not crazy about zine collections because zines read better individually. They're complete unto themselves and are particular to the moment they're published. With the Encyclopedia Cindy edited together nine years of Doris content, plus articles and interviews from other zines and magazines, and so it reads like a complete work, rather than awkwardly connected episodes.
Marie Curie--what a smarty, except for the sleeping with a bottle of radium by her bed. This 28cm tall art biography might just rock your world.
Gorokhova writes about growing up in 1960s and 70s Leningrad. I'd been curious about life in the USSR, and this memoir was exactly what I was looking for. She's a good writer, especially in her non-native but just as good English.
