Issue #3 went online last week. Did you miss it? Catch up here with the vibrant murals of artist Carlos Culbertson, as well as these wonderful essays from an array of talented creative nonfiction writers:
Rebecca Chekouras (California) writes with the hard light of truth about her brother’s life and death. Discovering a photograph of the two of them together as very young children sparks a cascade of memories about who he was, and of who he became. This is not exactly a ghost story, but it haunts all the same.
Ryan C. Daily (Chicago) wants a home. It sounds simple enough, but is finding your place ever an easy thing? Ryan finds herself compelled to map her childhood living spaces and tries to connect them. When she ends up where she started, the clarity of the last lines took our collective breath away.
Janet Garber (New York) shares a beautiful memory of where she first discovered the eternal gifts of imagination. This is a delightful and poignant reflection on how much a child craves her own space, or as Janet calls it, “my own true home.”
Tom Lin (Ohio) presents a narrative with visual structure that not only informs us how to read it but also seems to subtly mimic the loneliness and staggered footsteps of the title creature itself. This is a powerful, complex essay that lingers. By examining his childhood impressions of Godzilla, Lin also opens the door to his memories of his grandfather, of the island of Taiwan’s history, and the legacy of the atomic bomb.
Ana Christina Peters (South Korea) has never forgotten one of her father’s most powerful pieces of advice: Always walk away from a fight. Can a child of the Vietnam era grow into an adult who can follow this advice? Can anyone? Ana writes about witnessing a brutal fight between two fathers in the neighborhood, and its reverberation in the bodies and minds of the children who witnessed it.
Emily Rems (New York) turns her considerable writing talent to one of childhood’s most insidious experiences: being repeatedly molested by someone who should be helping you. At the tender age of 11, Emily finds herself regularly alone with a perpetrator hiding in plain sight. Readers must confront with the writer the discomfort, disbelief, and distress of realizing she’s not sure why it started or how to stop it.
Allison Spector (North Dakota) tells a true tale of childhood peril — “but not too much” — in this rollicking and occasionally unnerving recounting of two young girls determined to challenge the boys on their turf. This pitch-perfect narrative will have you thinking about what it means for any of us to stand up to a threat, be it real or simply perceived. Who’s playing whom?
Margaret Redmond Whitehead (Brooklyn) ponders a question we all ask sooner or later: When we have to move on, what stays with us, and what do we leave behind? This is exactly as simple and straightforward and complicated and murky as it sounds, and Margaret writes with compassion and depth about it all. Her experience with refugees, her literary reading background, and her personal family history all inform this empathetic and very real essay.
You can find it all and more right here: Longridge Review #3, Spring 2016.
p.s. Want to write for us? See submission guidelines here: Longridge Review SUBMIT