This penultimate entry for the End of Year Series is being scheduled for publication from beyond the land-of-no-internet in which I am until the beginning of January. Browse the archives or click on the category tag to see other writers’ answers to those three questions. Sabotage will be back in the new year with more reviews of the ephemeral. In the meantime: Happy New Year!
Rebekah Matthews is a short-story writer. Her writing was nominated for Dzanc’s Best of the Web and a Pushcart Prize in 2010. She is currently working on a collection of short stories called Hero Worship about lesbian relationships. She blogs here.
Has 2010 brought to your attention any outstanding literary magazines (be they online or in print), if so, which?
As a contributor, I’ve been the most pleased with my experience with The Battered Suitcase. They were responsive and kind, and also did a thoughtful interview on their blog with their contributors which was so nice and made me feel really appreciated!
As a reader, I’m glad I became aware of Fringe Magazine in 2010. It’s such a beautiful and simple layout, and I love their concept of publishing “outsider” voices.
What event sticks out in your mind as the literary event of 2010 (it can be a personal accomplishment)?
I know it’s predictable, totally not edgy, and barely literary, but when the film Eat, Pray, Love came out, I thought it inspired some really interesting discussions (in both the positive and the negative reactions) about literature, pop culture, class, and women. And also, one evening, while my book club met, after a few glasses of wine I started to complain loudly about the concept behind the book and the film; I went on for a few minutes, until one of the women in my book club said, “Elizabeth Gilbert is actually my aunt…” Oops. So that was kind of an “event.”
What was your favourite literary discovery of the year (it can be a single poem, a novel, a pamphlet, a press, …)?
Night at Suck Mansion by Joe Gallagher, a collection of stories told in verse and published by Big Rodent. It’s self-deprecating, mean, and sweet, and sometimes even happy.