Strix is a magazine that features poetry and short fiction,
published in Leeds, West Yorkshire.
Issue #5 is the first one I have read. I was surprised to hear that I get a free
subscription to the magazine by virtue of gaining a place in the Northern Short
Story Writing Academy 2019.
This issue contains the work of 40 writers, approximately 19
of whom are female (going on the names, only).
The print version is in an unusual format. The pages are the same height as A4. When I spoke to Ian Harker, one of the editors,
he told me that it was A4 folded in half, but it is wider than that. It is still narrow enough to fit in the inside
pocket of my coat, and so I have carried it around West Yorkshire for several
days, to and from work, to and from pubs, on buses and trains, gradually getting
to know it. The pages are stapled, and
placed inside a loose, brown paper cover.
The cover art is stylised, monochrome lino cuts. All good.
The problem I have with nearly all literary magazines is
that I don’t understand them, and they don’t understand me. I understand most of issue #5 of Strix, and,
more importantly, it understands me.
Two of the contributors, I know personally. A third is Wes Lee, who lives in New Zealand. Since 2012, Wes Lee and I have been entering
competitions run by the Grist venture, run by the University of Huddersfield. In the short fiction competition in 2012, Wes
Lee came first, and I came second. I don’t
mind coming second. Except for the fact that
Wes Lee’s story doesn’t have a recognisable narrative arc. Be that as it may. We were both published from the chapbook
competition in 2014. Wes Lee’s chapbook
is called ‘Cowboy Genes and Other Stories’.
Mine is called ‘Escape Kit’, of which I have copies to sell.
As to the content of Strix #5, I have not read every page,
yet, but I have read most of it, and it is very good, indeed.
The contribution from my friend, Joe Williams, I have heard
him perform, live. And so I cannot
comment on it, except to say that it reads almost as well off the page as he
Matthew Hedley Stoppard is someone that I have performed alongside. I am still trying to make him out. He is either a complete charlatan who is preying upon the working class, and the underclass, or he is a poet who is writing about people in marginal situations. I have not made up my mind, but I incline towards the latter.
What follows relates to writers I do not know, personally.
Arji Manuelpillai has two poems which articulate what it is
like to be South Asian in the UK. They
are called Curry night at Brewers Fayre
and Watching the game. These pieces are succinct and hard-hitting.
Rebecca Sandeman has a piece of short fiction called ‘Semiplume’. That opaque title sits atop just about the most remarkable piece of writing of this short length that I have ever read. I would describe it as an anti-fairy tale, but don’t let that put you off. A piece of short prose which takes off with its own exuberance and never lets you know where it is going. I can generally tell when a classic story is being re-told (because I do it myself). I know – only after having read it – what the story is, in this case, but I am not going to divulge it. You will have to read the magazine, and decide for yourself.