As Kelsey Connell, the new director of Calyx, points out in her opening note to readers, “calyx” is the botany term for the sepals of a flower, which “work together to protect the beauty of the flower.” Connell relates this definition to the community feel of this journal, particularly in its current time of staff overhaul. Though it might seem corny, this sense of togetherness is exactly what can be expected from the reading experience of the Winter 2012 issue of Calyx.
For starters, this is a beautiful journal. If you are a reader who believes in the aesthetic importance of your reading material, you won’t be disappointed. It’s small—roughly 150 pages and nearly square, which makes it the perfect pocketbook companion. In the middle of the journal, there are eight glossy pages of artwork, featuring digital photography, sculpture, and paintings. Throughout the pages, poetry and fiction are juxtaposed, with book reviews occupying space toward the back of the journal.
Calyx accepts art and book reviews year round, but limits the submission period for poetry, fiction, and essays from October to December. The journal is subtitled as “A Journal of Art and Literature By Women,” but the mission statement on their website takes this commitment a step further. In addition to publishing new and emerging writers, Calyx also promises to provide “a forum for diversity and underrepresented writers and viewpoints.” The pieces in the Winter 2012 issue take on the big issues—cancer, marriage rights, interracial dating, women in the army—but the majority of the work included avoids becoming overly heavy handed with a clear agenda.
The first poem in this issue is the winner of the 2011 Lois Cranston Memorial Poetry Prize: “The Apple Orchard” by Bethany Reid. The award-winning poem compares an orchard to a whorehouse, evoking such female-centric images as, “the trees/frowsy and bedraggled/in nightgowns and slippers,/hair tangled, lipstick askew,/straps slipping from their shoulders.” Reid’s poem makes quiet assertions about nature’s give and take within the larger context of women’s sexuality, providing the perfect opening for this high-tension issue.
A look through the titles of the other featured poems demonstrates Calyx’s commitment to tackling tough and underrepresented issues. With titles such as “Reading Whitman in the Chemo Room,” “My Brother Who Doesn’t Speak to Our Mother Comes to Visit,” and “Ruminations After a Hysterectomy,” the majority of the poems in this issue seem to take a direct approach to their subject matter. Free verse and prose poems reign supreme, with the exception of Kathleen A. Kelly’s “Provenance: A Sestina.” Some of the poems even extend over several pages and don’t shy away from clear, bold statements. Judy Ireland’s “Thoughts on Gay Marriage While Visiting My Lover’s Parents” concludes by asking the reader: “Who knows about laws and liturgies,/vows and ceremonies?/We barely know the right words for love.”
This issue contains four pieces of short fiction, the most memorable of which are Rita Chang’s “The Vestige” and Lisa Blackwell’s “Looks Good on Paper.” Chang’s story is told from the perspective of Chi-Ying, a woman who has just learned she has a mass in her lungs. Chi-Ying became the guardian of her small grandson after losing her daughter in a car accident and now faces the probability that Tang will grow up without a connection to his family and his culture. The story’s strength is in the dialogue and Chi-Ying’s subtle, but heartbreaking realization that Tang’s life will go on without her. The final line of the piece emphasizes this emotion, leaving the reader aching for Chi-Ying’s situation: “She sat motionless, watching his face disappear into the light bit by bit, and wondering how she was supposed to grieve for everything at the same time.”
Blackwell’s “Looks Good on Paper” takes place ten months into an interracial relationship. The narrator, Marion, is upset her white boyfriend, Jamie, made holiday plans without her and spends the duration of the story wondering where she went wrong. Marion’s difficult romantic history and desire to find a partner are highly relatable issues, as are her worries that, since she has waited till her thirties to date seriously, all the good men are taken. However, I found it difficult to connect with the characters in Blackwell’s story, despite the use of first person, given that most of the details are given in summary rather than scene. Very little positive qualities of Jamie are portrayed to allow the reader to understand why Marion was interested in him in the first place, beyond her desire to date a white man. Considering the significant weight and emphasis given to the characters’ skin color, the story seems to be making a commentary on interracial relationships and societal expectations, but what the particular commentary might be is difficult to discern. The first two lines, “It’s funny how many people think something is better just because it’s different. It’s even funnier that, until I met Jamie, I was one of those people,” seem to suggest a tendency against interracial relationships on the part of the narrator. By the story’s conclusion, though Marion has regained some of her empowerment, we are still unsure of her future with Jamie and in the purpose of her story.
Beyond the poetry and fiction, Calyx also publishes non-fiction and book reviews. The lone non-fiction piece in this issue is “The Script” by Rosa del Duca, which takes an interesting look on female authority in the Army. There’s no denying the importance of this journal and the role it has played in supporting female artist in its thirty-five years of publication. Boasting such honors as launching the early careers of Barbara Kingsolver and Julia Alvarez, as well as being the first to publish color artwork of Frieda Kahlo in the United States, Calyx certainly has the history to support this beautiful and diverse journal.