Featuring the work of:
- Tauri Alonso
- Chuan Webster
- Javier Sandoval
- Mette Meostrup (translated by Katrine Øgaard Jensen)
- Sesshu Foster
- Anthony Seidman
- Briana Muñoz
- Nicelle Davis
- Pete Hsu
- Dee Allen
Art by Sam Lopes
iBook/epub Interactive PDFFounded in Los Angeles in Fall 2014, Angel City Review is a literary journal that is committed to bringing the cutting edge in fiction and poetry to a modern audience.
Featuring the work of:
Art by Sam Lopes
iBook/epub Interactive PDFFeaturing the work of:
Art by Christine Bianco
iBook/epub Interactive PDFFeaturing the work of:
Art by jen stract, Monica Valdez, and Brea Weinreb
iBook/epub Interactive PDFFeaturing the work of:
Happy Friday to all of our readers. It was our intent to post a book review today, but in light of recent events, we here at ACR have chosen to use our platform to express support for the Black Lives Matter movement, the protesters, and the defunding, demilitarizing, and dismantling of police departments in the name of racial justice and respect for human life. The country in which we live has enormous potential for greatness, but that potential will never be realized so long as our institutions remain so utterly riddled with bigotry and corruption. Worse, that bigotry and corruption are, and always have been, held up by a significant portion of people as the meaning of that greatness. These undeniable realities of American life must be opposed, without hesitation or qualification, by any means necessary.
Black lives matter.
We are donating to several organizations that protect Black lives, that protect the rights and health of protesters, and that keep the resistance strong in courtrooms, jails, and advocacy groups. We are, health permitting, marching and demonstrating alongside protesters here in Los Angeles where we are based (check out @project_846, a protest led by our poetry editor Janice Sapigao and her husband). We admit to our own inadequacies and will continue to improve, increasing our engagement with Black authors and Black publishers. We will not be silent or complicit in the face of this institutional malignancy. We add what strength we have to the fight.
Black lives matter.
We are not saying or doing these things to self-aggrandize, or out of some perceived cultural or corporate pressure. We recognize that inaction is action, that neutrality is a choice, and that silence in the face of injustice is consent. Our mission at ACR has always been, and will continue to be, sharing literature not only for the joy of art but for the immeasurable value of engaging with new perspectives. To not engage now would be a betrayal of that mission, and of the people fighting every day for hope, love, and peace. Thank you for your time, for your support of our work, and, most importantly, for the efforts you have made and will make in these trying times.
Black lives matter.
Featuring the work of:
Luna Park, by Luis Cardoza y Aragon
Translated by Anthony Seidman
Review by Kristin Kaz
I was four years old in kindergarten, which is when I learned how to identify coins using my fingers alone. Is this a common lesson for young capitalists? Hands thrusting into deep, dark cotton sacks, fingering the heavy ridges of a quarter, the slightness of a dime. The nickel and the penny were hardest to distinguish for a while, but I got the hang of it. Eventually.
And now I so rarely use my hands to explore the world.
I lost my way.
Where was I?
I rambled along singing!
This work, this collection, I’ll tell you first how it feels, and then how it feels.
Luna Park is a slim text, bound in cardboard and wrapped with a smooth, heavier stock. Is this recycled paper?[1] Difficult to say without my eyes, but there is something organic about it all. I drag my nails against the cover and it sounds like marbles. Like a rain drum. The pages themselves are slighter, still smooth, and they make a pud-pud-pud sort of thwacking sound against themselves as I flip swiftly through them. There is something nostalgic about the presentation. I have it. There I am, at the start of a new school year, wrapping text books in paper bags. This is the comfortable, familiar part of the process. This is what my fingers and nose can tell me about how this work feels.
This is what my eyes can tell you.
Luna Park (1924, 2016) is Luis Cardoza Y Aragón’s first collection of poetry. It is translated from the Spanish by Anthony Seidman, thrust into the thick of this decade’s hazy Twitter feed by Alan Mills, and steeped in the kinetic energy of Daniel Godínez-Nivón’s graphics.
From this critical living, restless,
A new soul has flourished:
Tender and strong,
Beautiful and sweet,
Like a flower of steel.
The beauty of a work like Luna Park is its ability to transcend time and space – or, rather, the ability to so clearly encapsulate the speed at which we hurtle through time, through space; the push-pull of experience and innocence; the jarring, grotesque specter of age that stalks us through the funfair.
The one who doesn’t reside in the future doesn’t exist.
The future started yesterday.
My third reading of Luna Park is punctuated by the metronome of relentlessly tack-tacking fingers on an ergonomic keyboard. I put the book in my back pocket (this is a book that fits in your back pocket), where I keep it while I carry my cat through the house to the kitchen, where I pace back and forth, cat slung over one shoulder, left-handedly nosing my way through the experience of Luis Cardoza Y Aragón’s poetry.
La vie s’en va…
A woman, with her gaze,
Tells me:
“Live it up”
Life shouts out
“Follow that woman”
This is not poetry to be read passively, to be enjoyed on some quiet Sunday.
This is poetry that begs to be read in motion; this is poetry that pushes you up and out.
This is poetry of exile, of transcendence, of momentum, of vitality.
This is poetry that tells you to live.
So you live.
Luna Park is available now through Cardboard House Press.
Photo of Luis Cardoza Y Aragón and Carlos Mérida in Paris, 1927 from litearturaguatemalteca.org
[1] It is recycled paper.
Hello All, thank you for everyone who has read, submitted, and otherwise contributed to Angel City Review thus far. Over the past two years we have worked hard to build a journal that is inclusive, open, and representative of the actual community that we live in.
There is always more work to be done and we hope that everyone will help us in this process. We definitely would love more submissions from women, people of color, queer or non gender identifying individuals, writers with disabilities, and everyone in between.
We want writing that delves into the depths and gets extremely personal. Work that pushes boundaries or tries something interesting and new.
While we are primarily focused on writers in the Los Angeles County and surrounding regions, we publish work from writers across the west coast of the United States.
We accept poetry, fiction, non-fiction works.
Submissions can be sent to submissions @ angelcityreview.com and will close April 30th- Please check submission guidelines for more info.
We are excited to share that Entropy has listed us on their best journals and presses list of 2016. It is an honor to be included with such amazing company. We hope to continue to do more of the same work in the foreseeable future. Thank you to everyone who has been around for the ride so far. Check out the list below.
Issue 4 coming Dec 3rd
July 8th 7pm-10pm
At the Moryork Gallery: 4959 York Blvd, Los Angeles, California
Featured Readers:
Mike Sonksen
Jesse Bliss
Janice Lee
Julia Ingalls
and Introducing
Christian Cardenas and Kirk Sever
Musical Performance by Matt Kivel
https://soundcloud.com/