
Editorial
Christine Lee
Zilka
Dear Readers:
It is a pleasure
to read all the submissions and it is
my responsibility and privilege to sort through the inbox (the fiction,
at
least) and decide which of the numerous stories to include in an issue
of Kartika Review. But amidst the
submissions there are always a few pieces that pierce my psyche; there
are
perfect stories, perfect words, and talented writers, but I seek the
dizzying
moment where I fall in love, where I can sense the writer behind the
words
opening their heart out and laying themselves bare for the world to
witness. And in turn, I want the readers of Kartika
Review to also witness that art of feeling.
I had the
pleasure of reading Molly Gaudry’s short
short story, “The parents, they have lost their daughter,” a spare
piece but
not without the heft of deep feeling. And Jill Widner’s child
characters
find a sudden connection through dreams, a manifestation of subjugated
desire,
in her novel excerpt entitled “Fina’s Dream.” I’m happy to share
those
discoveries with you.
There are also
two gorgeous pieces outside of fiction
in this issue: Ocean Vuong’s “Dear Vietnam…” and “The Nikkei Yellow
Line” by
Akito Yoshikane have me reeling with excitement as a reader and
editor.
Ocean Vuong’s
poem, “Dear Vietnam…” and addressed as
such, is a love letter that makes me also fall in love with his home
and makes
me homesick as well, for a place that no longer exists in present time
and only
exists in memory.
In “The Nikkei
Yellow Line,” Akito Yoshikane utilizes
structure and imagery to investigate the theme of identity, boundaries,
and
geography to great effect. I’m so proud that his piece appears in
Kartika.
This issue’s
interview features one of my favorite writers,
Peter Ho Davies, who authored numerous award-winning stories; his
multicultural, multi-ethnic identity also embodies how I experience
Asian
American literature today. There is no one voice, no one
experience, and
no one perspective or theme that singularly defines Asian American
literature,
and the diversity within Kartika Review’s
pages attests to our many different voices.
Also, I do not
want to end this note without
mentioning Kenji Liu, whose poem, “Poem
to
Myself as a Newborn” appears in
this issue, and whose debut poetry chapbook, You Left
Without Your Shoes will be out this coming fall from Finishing Line
Press.
Happy reading,
Christine Lee
Zilka