Letters from the Editors
Dear Readers,
I’m so happy you’re here. Creating the first fully online issue of Bellingham Review has been such a pleasure, for a variety of reasons, but mostly because I’m in awe of our lineup of writers featured. This issue showcases a plethora of stunning poems, five deeply moving works of prose, innovative and energetic hybrid work, and our three 2022 Prize Winners — Jamila Osman, Nandini Lal, and Kenzie Allen.
Coby-Dillon English’s “The Paper Husband” left me speechless, and not in the metaphorical sense. Their Bender-esque story of a crumbling marriage is somehow both beautiful and chilling, one of those singular pieces I had to reread immediately after I finished it the first time around. “Deeply Rooted” by Kimberly Goode feels both like a love letter to Seattle and a poetic rumination on the connections between family and place. It somehow contains entire universes in only 455 words, and I’m still thinking about the final two sentences. And in “Anaadi’s Smile,” our 2022 Tobias Wolff Award in Fiction winner, Nandini Lal weaves together folklore and lush prose with a titular character who had my heart (and attention) from the first page.
I could keep gushing about each and every piece in Issue 85 (and will most likely do exactly so in my own time). But, for now, I’ll let these writers and their incredible words speak for themselves.
Sean Dolan, Managing Editor
Dear Readers,
As the Assistant Managing Editor, I want to greet you with gratitude… and welcome you to our 85th issue! First, I’d like to begin by expressing my appreciation toward the editorial team who have worked tirelessly to see that the unfolding of this first full online issue happens: Jane Wong (Editor in Chief), Sean Dolan (Managing Editor), each one of our fantastic genre editors, and our magnificent first readers. Without y’all this issue may not have materialized in such a stunning way. Not to mention, the writers who have contributed to this issue with their beautiful prose, poetry, and hybrid work are immensely talented, loyal to their craft, and it definitely shows! A piece that I would love to highlight is Ally Ang’s “Autoerotic Abecedarian,” which uses a rhythm that matches its intensity through visceral images, capturing a snapshot of experiences with the body; there’s so much raw emotion — it is so good!
This issue is stuffed with a group of writers who truly understand their genre and have excelled at it. Such an honor and privilege to present these gifted humans and their perspective(s) to the community of creatives!
Respectfully,
Tay Stafford, Assistant Managing Editor
Hello, hello,
As I sit here, writing this letter to celebrate Issue 85 as the new Editor-in-Chief of Bellingham Review, there are packets of seeds that my mother gave me the last time I visited home. These seeds were saved from her Jersey garden, packed in little handmade envelopes. Among them: bitter melon and eggplant. These seeds sit on my desk, a reminder that there is growth ahead. It’s the year of the Water Rabbit. Though we are in a constant state of grief and rage, I know there is tenderness and beauty here too — dwelling in the velvet ears of this year.
This issue is woven with such tenderness and beauty. Issue 85’s cover art features Henry Jackson-Spieker’s installation “Void,” which beams forth in glowing neon light, asking us to question our perception(s). If you’re in Seattle, please do check out his exhibition at MAD Art , “Interstitial Volume” (up now until April 1, 2023). This issue also celebrates (!!!) our stunning 2022 Bellingham Review Contest Award winners: Jamila Osman’s “Street View,” Kenzie Allen’s “even the word Oneida / can’t be written in Oneida [1],” and Nandini Lal’s “Anaadi’s Smile.” There are so many incredible works of poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and hybrid writing in here — each piece delights in language, storytelling, and lyric experimentation. I’m so excited for you to read, explore, and feel each visceral piece. Please also listen to River 慧瑩 Dandelion’s audio for his poem “Spell for Trans Safety (I).” The music of this poem echoes its healing power: “clean grime off porcelain cups / it’s time // to return to who you thought you could never be/ i ask you through this song stay here with me.”
I have so much to say about every single piece, but I’ll pause here so you can dive in. I am so grateful for each brilliant writer and artist who contributed to this issue, as well as my Bellingham Review team. We are waving hello from the moss, cheering each contributor on!
This year, may your seeds gather, grow, and transform into something “unctuous” (to bring in a word from Diamond Forde’s poem “Calling the Hogs”). Happy reading and I hope to see some of you at the AWP Conference in Seattle!
Yours,
Jane Wong, Editor-in-Chief
