Without a specific theme framing the content, review anthologies can tend to be unfocused and fragmented. Whether it was intentional or just lucky, volume 19 of the Undergraduate Review, co-edited by Tom Carter and Lisa Kellenberger, manages to avoid this by incorporating poems that complement each other but still offer a variety of different perspectives.
The Review is a representative collection of some of the who’s who of the Queen’s writing community, featuring writing from Morgan Vanek, Mary Katherine Carr, Ryan Quinn Flanagan and Christopher Kevin Oldfield, though it also features the work of new or relatively unknown names on the scene.
The legacy of the beat poetry featured in Ryan Quinn Flanagan’s “Envy 101,” which reflect on a case of writers block that finds fuel in the success of others before him: “weathered by the fetters of convention / there are no Ginsbergs / and Kerouacs to compile and edit my work.” Dagny Jackson’s “Composite” is another anti-tribute to the beats, which questions the “ideological drum” that provided the rhythm for Allen Ginsberg’s poetry: “Did you think, deep in your beatnik soul, / that there would be an angelic future?” Though the weight of Jackson’s piece overshadows Flanagan’s comparatively selfish prayer for talent, the two reflective poems work effectively together. Nicholas Henneberry’s “A Meeting” stands out as a bleak, anti-social depiction of modern-day romance: “ ‘I like being a vegetarian.’ / I guess she expects a response, / I don’t know what to say / So I keep silent.” “welcome to the party” by Samuel Rudykoff is another depiction of young life, through the sardonic perspective of a student partier in “the coolest scene this side of fuckall.” The poem effectively epitomizes the anthology’s title: “Welcome to another party in purgatory / Where nobody tries, but least we don’t fail. / Welcome to another Monday morning story.”
Chelsea Clarke has the only long essay piece in the Review, titled “The Deviant in Disguise: Prostitution, Clandestinity and Ambiguous Working Women in Impressionist Art.” The essay examines the complicated interaction of class and gender in of regulated prostitution in in the 19th century, using paintings by Tissot, Renoir and Manet to study the way that working women were considered suspect sexual beings.
The essay is a fascinating mix of disciplines which, while academically challenging, is written in such a way as to engage even those with no background in art history.
The Review also includes more short fiction than most campus creative writing anthologies at the University have in the past, perhaps signaling a prose revival taking place at Queen’s.
Justin Vessair’s “Oranges” is an interesting story about an ambiguous narrator on a road trip with his young niece. The piece has a distinctly local feel, from references to “Highway 401 … somewhere between Napanee and Cobourg” to the pioneering feel of a story set in a car traveling west.
“Cate’s Father,” by Mary Katherine Carr, is another piece of prose that successfully executes an ambiguous plot with beautiful imagery and consistent trajectory that keeps the reader’s attention.
The Review’s greatest flaws are in its visual aspects. The black cover features a basic white font with an Asian-inspired graphic of an ornamental goldfish. Grey swirls, reminiscent of water currents appear on both covers and are repeated on every page, which, when combined with cartoonish-looking lotus flowers in the bottom corner, contribute to a cluttered look. The grey swirls overlap the print quite a bit, interfering both with readability and eliminating the impact of intentional breaks and visual layout of the poems.
The eight pages of visual art inside the cover leave much to be desired as well, seeming more like an interruption to the writing than a complement. The expression of life and expert use of light in Veronica Monture’s painting “Giant Still Life” and two oil paintings by Sherman Li stand in stark contrast with the cold, predictable photos; but even the paintings seem out of place in the context of a collection—dispersing art throughout the anthology might have reduced the garishness of the juxtaposition.
Eric N. Virtue’s “PC” stands out as a particularly uninspiring piece of “art,” looking more like a stock photo from a technology catalogue than anything representative of the art scene at Queen’s.
Flip past the dismal art centerpiece to find fascinating images and witty turns of phrase in the writing of Jackman and Jessica Dudek hidden at the end of the collection. Despite some of its design flaws, the writing in this year’s Undergraduate Review is redeeming.
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