Directions in literary magazines

Press, 6 April 1985, Page 20

Directions in literary magazines

Tom Weston looks at the editorial approaches of five New Zealand literary magazines. AND 3 (October, 1984); Islands 34 (November, 1984); Landfall 152 (December, 1984); Splash 2 (December, 1984); and Untold 2 (Spring, 1984).

Here it is April, 1985, and “Landfall” is 38 years old. A few months on and “Islands” will scrape in a young 13. “AND,” “Splash,” and “Untold,” the other magazines considered here, are mere youngsters by comparison — there is only a year or two in total. “AND” will soon disappear, having one issue left out of a pre-determined four. “Splash” has not set itself so arbitrary a limit, but does not have long-term ambitions. “Landfall” and “Untold” are Christchurch-published; the other three originate in Auckland.

Literary magazines are usually a chancy business — if they can be described as a business at all. There is little, if any, profit. “Landfall,” New Zealand’s longest-serving and most continuous such publication, took almost 20 years before first showing a surplus — and modest enough at that. Even this may be the exception, most magazines (and there are quite a few) struggle by on little more than enthusiasm and their editor’s overdraft facility. The majority survive but few issues.

A literary magazine does several things. On the one hand it is a newsletter and forum for a group of writers of similar persuasions. It will often provide new writers with a venue and give established writers an opportunity to maintain a profile. It will (either consciously or otherwise) expound a particular line or tradition. These are short-term aspects. In the long term, a literary magazine acts as an historical record.

Both “AND” and “Splash” derive from a specific and comparatively recent programme, known as semiology. This approach is involved with language as the ultimate of systems, and is unconcerned with the individual and his or her individual problems. This is a highly developed theoretical position, based on French and, more recently, American writings. It represents one side of the content versus form argument that is at present dividing the literary world. In broad terms, “Islands,” “Landfall," and “Untold” represent “content,” while “AND” and “Splash”

represent “form”. Not only do these two recent magazines hae a different theoretical basis, but they also have a different approach to naming themselves and to their lay-out design. Their names are ephemeral and do not refer to the land (i.e. New Zealand), as both “Landfall” and “Islands” do. The new magazines use photocopied typescript and any photographs or graphics are only up to the standard of a photocopy. They are bigger than the earlier magazines — A 4 size. Their format is experimental, which reflects the content. “Landfall,” “Islands,” and. “Untold,” by comparison, appear more as showcases of completed work, and this imposes a degree of. passivity. The importance of a relevant format is emphasised by “Landfall’s” recent decision to change its format. “Landfall” first appeared in March, 1947, under the control of Charles Brasch. It continued under his strong and individualistic editorship for many years. Right from the start Brasch made a clear commitment to literature, but a literature that existed in a particular place, namely New Zealand. There was a sense of discovery, of sorting out a place in this world. “Landfall in unknown seas” was something of a motto. This was the original impetus for the magazine. “Landfall” is inextricably associated with the poets of the forties such as Allen Curnow. Curnow has been a seminal figure in New Zealand literature, but his particular approach is now less dominant and pervasive than it has been. It may be true to say the “New Zealand literature” that “Landfall” (and Curnow) were seeking has now been found, and to some extent, found wanting. Where does that leave “Landfall?” It seems that the editor, David Dowling, has asked himself the same question. His most recent editorial speaks of the new developments, especially that of semiology. He tries to assimilate these directions into his magazine’s approach, saying that “Landfall” is already innovative. Here we part company. I cannot accept that “Landfall" is leading the field in any but its own particular compass. It, of course, still publishes some important work, but work that is usually consistent with its own traditions. “Islands” first appeared in Spring, 1972, sporting a cover designed by Ralph Hotere. It contained a good many

established writers (Curnow, Baxter, Glover, and Stead for example) who had previously exhibited in “Landfall.” There was (and still is) this overlap; “Islands” continues to function under the control of its founder, Robin Dudding. Dudding has maintained a consistent and centred view, developing (in particular) a reputation for high-quality short stories. His magazine is most closely associated with New Zealand writers of the sixties and seventies such as lan Wedde. It is allied with that area of literature loosely designated postmodernism. In general terms this is concerned with the individual and with individual experience. “Islands,” though more recent than “Landfall,” has elements that are becoming dated. Longevity seems to have its dangers! “AND” and "Splash” focus differently. They are clearly products of the eighties and present a new view; providing a reinterpretation of New Zealand literature from Allen Curnow onwards. Both magazines are experimental and deal with an assumed readership. They function as in-house journals speaking to the converted. Contributions are not limited to a purely New Zealand source, and "Splash” includes a large number of American writers. "AND” has presented an intelligent critical view-point and has been more a journal of critical writings than “original work.” “Splash” is less aggressive. It not only represents the semiological school but also overlaps with the post-modernism of the now defunct “Parallax.” “Landfall 149” commented that these new theories hide “old orthodoxies.” There is a certain amount of truth in this, but different literary schools will always have points of overlap. I, for one, have little doubt these new magazines represent a view that is often incompatible with that of the two earlier magazines (and “Untold”). There is a new perspective here that some readers might find invigorating. This article has contained much in the way of generalisations. The individual reader’s attitude towards literary magazines will depend on his or her likes or dislikes. But anyone who is vitally interested in the development of writing in this country should make some effort to read “AND” and “Splash.” They do not render any other theoretical stance obsolete so much as open up new areas of discovery.