Issue 36

A Small Place

By Kashaf Ahmad

If you are thinking of pursuing a degree in literature or are just someone who loves to read books on the aftermath of colonization and postcolonial studies, then this book is for you. Jamaica Kincaid’s book A Small Place is a work of creative nonfiction as it is based on reality. She writes intricately about a small island named Antigua. This novel is written from the point of view of a first-person narrator who provides a blunt outlook on the post-colonial state of Antigua, and describes the impact of tourism and how it plays a major role in maintaining corruption along with imbalanced wealth distribution.

This book feels like a conversation not only between the tourist and the Antiguans, but also between the reader and the writer, as Kincaid continuously uses the words you and I throughout the book which makes it quite intriguing.

A Small Place is divided into four loose sections, and in the span of only eighty pages, Jamaica Kincaid skillfully addresses all the critical issues accurately. In the first section, Kincaid addresses a tourist who is bewitched by the ethereal beauty of Antigua and wonders what it might look like from the inside. However, when he does get to know that it’s not in a very good condition, instead of exhibiting signs of distress, he is over the moon to see this island in a very reckless and deteriorated state not just physically, but also culturally, economically, and psychologically. In the third and fourth sections, Kincaid evaluates the post-colonial state of Antigua as it is today and the neocolonial influence left by the colonizers as a legacy to the Antiguan bourgeoisie.

The way she critiques the tourists and the Antiguan government is eye-opening. It not only feels realistic but relatable to me as a reader as I was immediately reminded of the state of my own country (Pakistan). I like this book a lot because it accurately depicts the deteriorated postcolonial state of countries like Antigua, and helps us to realize that Antigua and the like have so much potential to prosper, they just have to get back on their feet and work with all their might.

The structure of this novel is shaped like Antigua itself, beautiful on the surface level but rotten by fraudulence at its core. This is similar to how the author tries to criticize the wrongs, and addresses themes of corruption and colonization while maintaining a humorous tone. An example of her satire can be seen in this excerpt:

“Have you ever wondered to yourself why it is that all people like me seem to have learned from you is how to imprison and murder each other, how to govern badly, and how to take the wealth of our country and place it in Swiss bank accounts?” (Kincaid 34)

Her satirical and witty tone with a realistic touch is what makes this book stand out amongst others, as the author is not afraid to criticize the government for its corruption, and the tourists for adding to the crippling state of Antigua, because she believes that tourism is an instance of neo-colonialism and imperialism. Therefore, if you are a tourist in some postcolonial country, especially an American or European tourist, then this book won’t be an easy read as it is brutally honest. But we must not take anything the author says personally; rather, we as readers should try to understand the point she is trying to make.

All in all, what pushes me to recommend this novel is that it’s a thought-provoking and very powerful novel coming from a ‘subaltern’ herself, and Kincaid isn’t afraid of holding back her bitter yet truthful words, which are a definite blow to the face of corruption and injustice.

A recent graduate from Kinnaird College for Women University, with a bachelors degree in English Language and Literature. Kashaf Ahmad has a knack for writing and sharing motivational stuff. She loves to read self-help books and is a huge fan of manga and classics. Her hobby is to capture fleeting moments of life with her camera lens.

Grounding

By Lydia Neeley

I burned grilled cheese twice but I thought I was a good cook and I can’t figure out how to submit an assignment and I misread the time that another assignment was due and I was late to work and I’m

BREATHE

The rain pattering on the roof
smells even better when it falls
on the warm concrete.

worried that I let everyone down turn an assignment late and I figure that I missed another due date and my outfit is trash and I can’t find time to clean and the computers

BREAtHE

Lightning flashing and thunder clapping
In the distance and the birds chirping
trying to find shelter

that I oversee don’t work and I don’t remember if I’m supposed to know how to fix them and I think I’ll fail this class and

bREaTHe

I leaned against the strong trunk
of the tree that was trimmed to be as tall
as a one story house built in the 70’s,

then I’ll fail other classes but that’s never happened before so I go to bed

brEaTHe

my hands pressed
into the black and white well-fertilized soil
dirt creeping beneath my fingertips

too late and wake up too early and I don’t have time to

brEaThe

In the leaves above me
I see tiny veins
that mimic the ones in my hands.

eat good food and I don’t have money to

breaThe

The sky is dark, but not quite
Overcast and there is a faint
rainbow near the mountain

eat out you’ve struggled making friends and

breathe

It’s going to be okay.

Lydia Neeley is a lifelong reading and writing enthusiast, who is attending college just for the creative writing classes. She has published a few pieces in small magazines and journals, and plans on publishing her own book someday.

a day like a fever

By Olivia Hom

(after Franny Choi)

It is a
rainy day, like a fever.
Never ending, the sun is dead
& I’m avoiding meat
for now. It’s strange how butchered
things taste good. I’m the kind of girl
Who writes poems chopped
& fragmented, then puts them together. Now we’re grown up
& I wish I had a balcony to watch the sunset &
see the city, watch it cradled
in lights. What if I slept in,
nestled like styrofoam
in boxes. Would you
throw me away? I am candid
in job interviews. You are a cannibal.
How else can you
sustain yourself? I want
to graduate but I don’t want to leave, what’s there for me?
Take a bite
of this heart-sized
thing we call life. There is no
alternative, open your eyes
to the oil clogging
the pores on your
face, to the words stopped in your throat.

Olivia Hom was born and raised in New York City. She graduated Magna Cum Laude from Mount Holyoke College in May 2024 with a degree in English. Olivia was selected to be on the committee for the Glascock Intercollegiate Poetry Contest, the longest running undergraduate poetry contest in the nation. She enjoys creative writing, especially poetry. Olivia also enjoys taking walks, photography, and watching plays, musicals, and films. She is currently an intern with W.W. Norton & Company.

Someday I’ll Grieve Sosi Audain

By Sosena Audain

(Inspired by Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong)

Sosi, run. Adulthood is chasing you
later. Don’t eulogize your
fish before its belly points to the future.
Stand skinned, tall and limp. You’ve
earned the loss of ‘i’ in your name. Now
it just reads “S.O.S.”

Maybe if we burned through the
treadmill, we could live in the space between
‘i’ and “S.O.S.” before the ‘i’ dissipates and
it all sneaks its way back onto your body.

Sosi, come
Here. Be Here. You’re tomorrow—you just need
to know today is a shadow of your forgetting. Years
will bead your necklace. Today, the charm.

Sosena Audain is a writer from Washington, D.C. She is an alumna of the Kenyon Review Young Writers Workshop and the Sewanee Young Writers Conference. Her work has been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, Fleeting Daze, and Disjointed Magazine. She has a novella entitled The G.I.V.I.D and is working on a novel entitled Address. When she’s not matchmaking words like people, she is listening to music and she is probably singing along. She likes cats, philosophy, and life itself.

Impending

By Lotus Das-Hyland

It’s cold enough that both
my obligatory huff of an exhale
and that of a dumb dog
remain visible, lingering stagnant
and momentary. Blossoming in
front of me
then, gone,
as whispers straining away
on the biting July wind.

I draw in; feel a tightening
in my trachea.
Hold – something putrid and coiling is
birthed in my stomach
creeping upwards as if water
in the xylem of a rotting flower. Against every
natural law it blooms into my
mouth, claustrophobic. Leathery
petals press against my tongue
and crowd my gums. Threatening my throat.

I exhale, and frown at my living.
Seeking some bittersweet comfort,
that my quivering fingers are
so frozen that they ache. A ritual,
a ceremony made up of twigs and
spikes. I swallow and it feels
like a seed pod has lodged itself
inside me. Like I might start
crying pebbles any minute now.

Like this,
I burgeon another cranberry hour away.

Lotus Das-Hyland (she/her) is an Indian-Irish student from Melbourne, Australia who recently completed the International Baccalaureate diploma program. After graduating high school in November 2024, she is looking forward to growing and improving her writing at university. When she’s not busy studying, she enjoys visiting new places, making music, and writing stories in her Notes app.

Bibliophile at Lunch

By Jenna Mather

I want to swallow every story
like it’s my last meal: devouring
crisp pages until metaphor drips
down my chin and I pick the letters
from my teeth with a plotline—
all so I can hold those words inside
my greedy, endless stomach and say,
This is one is mine.

Jenna Mather is a graduate of the University of Iowa, where she studied English and creative writing. With her poetry, short fiction, and creative nonfiction, she tries to untangle the complexities of love, womanhood, and the writing life. On any given day, you can find her in a coffee shop—or online at @_jennamather and jennamather.com.