Journal Promises Gut-Punch Writing and Follows Through
The Sonder Review is a bi-annual publication focusing on fiction, non-fiction, and some stunning artwork. True to its mission, TSR opens a door into the otherwise unknown lives of others, where complexity, chaos, and tragedy dwell. Many of the stories will shock and disturb you, leaving you feeling a bit raw, which is the point. Authors come from a wide range of places and walks of life—both men and women, some with plenty of credits to their name, others closer to the beginning of that journey (not necessarily in terms of skill, though). My subjective opinions aside, even the least appealing of the stories are quite strong. The layout and artwork of the lit mag are fantastic and well-chosen. The Sonder Review is in its 9th issue and edited by Elena M. Stiehler, with new assistant editors Lexi Castigleone and Kathy Kurz.
The magazine starts out with featured author Ashley Kunsa and her three brutally short stories: "Crossroads," "Only Breath," and "Everything Always and Still Not Enough." Despite their shortness, Kunsa's pieces are finished works and beautifully written. The brief forays give the reader all they need to experience a snapshot in time into the experiences of the characters. Kunsa's shorts are followed by a "featured author" Q & A where she says that such short stories "require precision in word choice and detail," which she accomplishes. To be honest, I'm not particularly familiar with this style of short story, but I now think I'll seek them out.
As I am fascinated with examinations into the human psyche, and the weirdness or madness contained there within, I traveled next to "The Life Expectancy of a Human Skeleton." I kept thinking of Poe's madman ranting and raving at the loquacious raven while drifting through this somewhat trippy and utterly disturbing story. The narrative can be tricky to follow at times, but I believe that's the point. What is supposed to make sense to the reader is the narrator's twisted view of reality and little else. In this sense, the narrative progressives through a series of images Pete wants us to see and understand as important to him, and through his voice, some truly fantastic lines emerge:
"The wife never remembered his name. Pete. Not Paul, Page, Pat, Phil. It was no small annoyance. Did Pete lash out? He did not. The urges to grab her by the blonde ponytail and smash her crescent-shaped face into the sizzling grill were frequent and mighty, yet he'd learned to squash them with relative ease. What a noble son of a bitch I am, he'd admit, smashing something more appropriate onto the grill."
"Alive @ 148 MPH," by Chris Vanjonack, seems more of a writing workshop entry, but that's not to say it isn't readable—you'll want to get to the end. There are some really great lines that show Vanjonack knows his subjects well: "All told, he is exactly what his students probably expected to find when they walked into his classroom, and they are visibly unhappy to find themselves clairvoyant." The story is told from the point of "The Instructor," a middle-aged Colorado state trooper, whose name we never learn. No names are actually given in the piece, which seems to be the point, as story revolves around an evening class devoted to teaching young people about the danger of driving while ability impaired. The best part about the story is the ending, though, which the reader can no doubt see coming but is still sudden and dire: "He gets into his car, starts his engine, merges onto the interstate and discerns an impossible stretch of road before him, not a headlight to be seen in either direction, and find that same, unknowable force beckoning his foot to the accelerator." This is, in my opinion, the best line of the story.
"November" by Brandon Hansen also has some tricks up its sleeve but is too abstract at times. It's more of a journey into an experimental form of prose, not straight up storytelling. The italic parts of the story meander a bit, but the inclusion of The Multiverse Theory is interesting (perhaps because I'm very familiar with cosmology). I found that there was almost no significant difference between the voice of the older sister in the story and that of the younger sister. There is some pretty good use of advanced punctuation, like colons and semicolons, to create long, but not uninteresting stream of consciousness tangents.
While reading "Bluff" by Virginia Boudreau, I was reminded of how little experience I have with creative nonfiction. I was also reminded of how few words we tend to use in our everyday speech. At first, I was annoyed at the literariness of the short story, but happening upon this line: "They romped with uncomplicated abandon. They'd never needed to learn the language of restraint," I was drawn in a bit further. I reread the story and let the language wash over me, coming to the same place of contentment the narrator felt at the end.
Had I known about Chrisy O'Callaghan's short nonfiction, "Sweatshirt," I would've started there. That might be an absurd thing to say, given we can't know what's in a story until we've read it, but nonetheless true. I found this story to be utterly compelling and heart wrenching, not only because it's based on real life but also because it was written in a voice much like my own. The words were direct, purposeful, and with meaning—nothing was minced or wasted: "She stops looking at me long enough for me to look at her. I'm taken aback by her calm. Maybe she's used to other people stains. Our mistakes. Our misfortunes. Regrets." This story struck home a bit because of the close relationship I have with my own brother. It also made me think of a cousin of mine who served in Afghanistan and went through a lot of the same trauma O'Callaghan's brother went through. I'll leave you with one final line that I had to read again and again:
"My brother looks at me with my same eyes, same round face, and asks, 'How?'
I shake my head, "Someday I'll tell you. Not today.'"
"Sweatshirt", in my opinion, is the pinnacle of what The Sonder Review has to offer and if they keep this editorial standard up, they should continue to grow.
All in all, the stories, both nonfiction and fiction, are well-written—although some are far superior. The editors do a good job with this journal and have chosen great stories that really adhere to the theme. If you are looking to write stories that are, as lead editor Elena M. Stiehler calls, a primal fist-to-heart gut-clench, this is a journal for you. And, while some of the authors do have a laundry list of previous writing credits to their names, TSR publishes less established authors, as well. And, whether or not the stories appealed to me personally, they were all well-written—best bring your A+ game to the submission process.
The Sonder Review accepts submission via email and is free, and all submissions are treated equally, but donating to their tip jar will guarantee a detailed critique about the strengths and weaknesses of your submission.
