The Threepenny Review – Winter 2004

There is a certain perversity in newspaper-bound journals—after all, how can something as valuable as literature exist in such a vulnerable state, resembling Sunday-edition inserts destined, unread, for the recycling bin. Accustomed to the pretty, diminutive books that populate the same category, I was immediately disarmed by the lackluster appearance of The Threepenny Review. 

There is a certain perversity in newspaper-bound journals—after all, how can something as valuable as literature exist in such a vulnerable state, resembling Sunday-edition inserts destined, unread, for the recycling bin. Accustomed to the pretty, diminutive books that populate the same category, I was immediately disarmed by the lackluster appearance of The Threepenny Review. Inherently disposable though it may be, this publication doesn’t need a glossy, perfect-bound package—its content is, quite simply: Enough. Alan Shapiro’s “Space Dog” made an instant fan of me with its unlikely-yet-perfect parallel between the puzzlement of adolescence and, of all things, “Laika, Soviet space dog.” The last stanza issues that exquisite frisson that only a perfect poem has the power to produce: “as the spaceship hurtles / out toward the stars, the earth / a star behind it, the earnest / dog eyes fixed on black / space like a door / the masters have walked through / and will return from, surely. / Surely they’ll come to get me. / Surely they didn’t love me / all that time for this.” The postwar-Europe photographs of Robert Frank dotted throughout set a gorgeously eerie tone and lend continuity to the magazine. These are reason enough to check out this volume, as they revive the meaning of the timeworn cliché, “a picture is worth a thousand words.” Truly, these images speak for themselves; there is no fit way to explain them. Add to all this a charming essay on the power of names by David Mamet, a handful of book reviews and some seriously good prose, and you begin to see what The Threepenny Review is all about. And then, even if you find yourself without it, someone having mistaken it for refuse, the artistry it contains will stay with you. It’s just That Good. [The Threepenny Review, P.O. Box 9131, Berkeley, California 94709. E-mail: [email protected]. Single issue $7. http://www.threepennyreview.com] – SRP