Zine Reviews: End of Summer 2023

Mary Rajotte's "Frightmarish" litzine features a little bit of everything: short stories, poems, essays, and even some activities, all draped in moody, gothic vibes. I was sent issue three, which was "inspired by the mystical nature of omens". The zine opens with "The Call of the Carrion Crows", a "be careful what you wish for" fable featuring poppets, curses, and doomed love. The closing story, "In Token and Pledge" deals with similar themes and motifs, and I like that the zine is bookended by these two tales. They're both compelling little stories that remind me of old fairytales.

The zine's guts are a little more hit-or-miss: the activities (a tutorial for an origami crow and a word search) feel a little gratuitous, but the essay "Flora & Fauna of Folklore: the Crow" is tremendous, weaving corvidae science, superstition, and lore with ideas for spellwork. This essay could stand alone as it's own mini zine, and I'd read a whole series approaching other folkloric figures in this vein. Overall, "Frightmarish" issue three is a gothic grab bag sure to sate your interest in spooky stories. So if you live in the shadows, or just want a little dash of darkness in your TBR pile, check out "Frightmarish" zine.

"Of Restless Wonder" is a team effort: the zine features poems and illustrations by Nicholas Yandell, but it was hand-bound by his husband, Timothy Arliss OBrien. Described as a "work full of questions and contemplations, scenarios and self-analyzations that incite the imagination", the zine features 15 poems and 1 essay. Most of the material here has a decidedly personal slant, with Nicholas questioning their place in the world, but my favorites stretched to more outside influences: the Twelfth Night-inspired "Antonio's Waves" was especially affecting, and "The Silver Gray Cat" (complete with an accompanying illustration) was utterly charming. Timothy makes his presence felt through clever touches: the house-shaped zine-within-a-zine sewn into the centerfold, the envelope insert that highlights the poem "A Public Service Announcement On Behalf of All Your Heroic Friends:", and the cover hand-painted with shiny gold.

Welcome to Spidertown! Straight outta the imagination of Claire Krüeger and Sean Rose, "Spidertown" sorta feels like reading transcripts from an exceptionally strange public access television network. The zine features missives and thoughts from the residents of the eponymous town, adverts for local businesses (such as "Colonial Fumes", tagline: "the only antique perfume for American Girl Dolls"), and even a page full of classified ads. One of my favorite parts of the zine was the centerfold: a full-color field guide to the stray cats of Spidertown that will make you wish you could adopt Junior Mint (described as having "the cutest little meows you ever did hear") or Chonk ("will do anything for a hot dog.") And while Spidertown-resident Cart might think that it "ain't a place so much as a shitty state of mind", I thoroughly enjoyed my jaunt through this imaginary place, and hope to return if/when another issue is published.

I brought "Horse Horse Magazine" with me to the Neither/nor Zine Collective's first Zine Club show-and-tell, and man was it a hit! Everyone had a blast oogling this zine's zany collages, and we were all laughing at it's extremely informative (and not at all imaginary) articles. Take the "Problem Clinic" help column, which features tips on dealing with shrinking horses and advice on how to ween your appaloosa pony off of impulse shopping and online dating (apparently, the answer is getting your horse an old nintendo, as Mario is "the only computer game designed for horses to play without losing their minds and getting married in a way that rips the family apart.") If that sentence intrigued you, confused you, or made your little horse ears perk up, then I highly recommend subscribing to this strange, surreal, and hilarious zine.

When I check my p.o. box and pull new zines outta their envelopes, I usually know what to expect: b&w zines with collaged covers almost always turn out to be perzines or poetry; zines printed via riso typically find their way to me from art students, etc. etc. But there are always exceptions, surprises: take Syringe Nest vol. 2. On the surface, it has all the makings of an art zine — that full-color, glossy printing on nice, thick paper stock — and at a glance you might expect it to be a showcase of grim, violent art, given it's cover. And it is that — a dark, skuzzy art zine — but Syringe Nest vol. 2 is also an earnest memorial to an artist gone too young.

In amongst the collages built from skulls, bondage, weapons and drawings of weirdos and degenerates is a heartfelt tribute to the zine's co-creator, Bailey McCann, who passed away unexpectedly in January. The ink drawings are his, and based on descriptions from by zine's co-creator Jack Begakis, Bailey was a real one, a true artist. Jack describes his friend as "one of the most humble and gentle people" and someone with an "open mind yet stubborn opinions (... who) craved for things to be harder, louder, faster, darker." Volume 2 of Syringe Nest is subtitled "exitus vitae" - "exit life" - a title chosen before Bailey's passing, an eerie coincidence that only makes the memorial all the more touching.

A GoFundMe has been put together to publish a broader collection of Bailey's work - you can find a link to that fundraiser below.