We publish quality short stories, poetry, extracts from forthcoming novels, and articles and essays on topics of social, environmental and cultural significance.
ISSUE NO. 119
Summer 2009/2010
EDITORIAL
Gina Mercer
A small office with pale grey walls, a few patches of peeled plaster. When the auditor drops by, the organised chaos of piles of folders and stacks of boxes makes him visibly wince. Its redeeming feature is one large north-facing window – vital for warmth and sunlight through Hobart’s long winter. This is the space in which Island is generated. A liminal space on the University of Tasmania campus, provided rent-free by that generous institution. I sit here for many hours each week, glancing up at the grey wall behind my computer, dreaming up ideas for future issues, soothing authors through the editing process, writing grant applications and juggling budgets. Well, those are just some of the things which make up this editor’s day. There’s certainly no hint of The Devil Wears Prada here.
Into the grey office come flotillas of poems and stories all yearning for selection. I try to imagine the offices, bedrooms, kitchens or cubbies in which these works were created. Inhabited by thousands of written words, the office can seem a silent space, but I am sometimes overwhelmed by the thunderous subtext of desire spoken by all these contributions.
The desire to be published, recognised, reassured that the work does resonate, does reach some ambiguous level of merit, makes some kind of ‘grade’.
It’s a curious business, the writer’s (and editor’s) life, often fraught with questions of judgement. But what of the reader’s life? I dream that theirs is more relaxed and cheerful as copies of new magazines slip into mail boxes and eagerly await a reading.
This summer issue of Island is a collation of the beautiful and thoughtprovoking works which sailed into and illuminated my small grey office. They set interesting shapes and shadows dancing on the walls. They spoke of: the joys of cycling; the necessity for activist writing; how much the natural world needs our help; the cruel persistence of anti-Semitism; and the power of imagination in creating empathy for birds and all others. They sing of magpies, jaguars, trees and French castles. They perform a celebratory dance round the existence of rain, kingfishers, pegs, lions, lavender and lovers.
And because you are imaginative and creative readers you will find more, much more in this volume. Whatever you are doing this summer, I hope these words make the greyest of your walls dance with light and interest.