Dear Readers, Writers, and Friends of The Maine Review,
Tomorrow is the shortest day of the year. At the risk of conflating a generic literary metaphor and simple meteorological reportage, these are dark days.
Looking back on my Letter-from-the-Editor installments over the past few years, I now recognize a tendency to lead off with a sort of low-key despair and to conclude with something like hope. I promise we’ll get to the latter, but first, it may be of value to note that these are literally dark times. Why write in moments such as these? Why read? Why donate to your local library, or nonprofit foundation, or literary journal? Why, indeed, do anything other than order noodles for the third time this week and eat them in bed while watching videos of otters holding hands? (Which there’s nothing wrong with, by the way.)
I have a theory: that there’s more to be had because we have each other. We have solace alone, but also solace together. This community has proven again and again that joy, imagination, and resistance are not only necessary but viable.
In the pages of this issue, you’ll find experimentation, determination, and human connection. You’ll experience writing that’s kind, courageous, and rigorous. You’ll perhaps find, as I have, others who are sorting it out in real time.
This issue hosts a series of remarkable work. It also signals the beginning of a new chapter for The Maine Review. Moving forward, Chelsea Jackson and our Founding Editor, Rosanna Gargiulo, will take the helm as Co-Editors. Chelsea’s vision and dedication have been transformative, and Rosanna’s enduring legacy continues to inspire. Together, they embody the heart of what this journal represents: an unwavering commitment to the literary arts, and to the very best of what we’re capable of.
It’s been a sincere honor to serve this community, and I promise to remain on the scene. As I bittersweetly transition forward from my editorial role, I do so with a strong sense of hope for the future of The Maine Review, and for contemporary literature. The reason is you: readers, writers, contributors, collaborators, and community members. Your passion and engagement are the lifeblood of this journal. Your work is inspiring, and your hope gives me hope.
This is a season of transition all-around, individually and communally. I hope you’ll continue to empower one another to be bold, to be strong, and to be joyful.
One thing’s for sure: after tomorrow, the days will get longer.
With deepest gratitude,
A. J. Bermudez
