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Oyez Review – Spring 2007

Volume 34

Spring 2007

Annual

Denise Hill

Oyez– “from the Anglo-Norman word for hear ye, the imperative plural of oyer, meaning to hear. It was used as a call for silence and attention in court and at public gatherings.”

Oyez– “from the Anglo-Norman word for hear ye, the imperative plural of oyer, meaning to hear. It was used as a call for silence and attention in court and at public gatherings.”

Without a doubt, there is a collective readership out there with their silent attention wrapped around this slight journal. The strength of the publication are the short stories, with works like “The Key” by Lee Varon – about a woman’s eerie obsession of visiting her ex’s home, “Immigrant Buffet” by Jotham Burrello – the same sad story of struggle and survival of “desert crossers” coming to America, but this one so stone cold in its testimony, it’s the readers who feel the concrete block in their own heart-stubborn patriotism. Top-notch is J. Weintraub’s “The Flight of the Golden Eagle,” with its unconventionally long parenthetical asides that tell the end in the middle – tedious, at first, I thought, but was so entwined by the time I came to the most unassuming end that I was overcome by tears. Peter Obourn’s “Albert Mooney Said” is a characterization and narrative cross between Lucien from Amélie and Jamaica Kincaid’s “Girl” – a read aloud of which resulted in a laugh out loud. Not as worthy of extended mention, unfortunately, is the poetry from over a dozen authors, which, while well crafted, remained less memorable. It’s still good poetry, just not great, and given the plethora of good poetry, it takes greatness to rise to the surface for any reader. Perhaps running one poem from each author may be what limits a stronger reader experience with otherwise capable writers. Great poetry in this issue would be the contributions of each Jade Q. Wade, Lois Marie Harrod, and ellen. Worth note in creative non-fiction is Ashley McCullough’s “Zero Tolerance” unfolding rough layers of reality, each more sad and sick and shocking, in such a way that the reader can’t stop reading it any more than the narrator can stop herself from smuggling opium. Gorgeous linocuts by Watie White grace the covers and middle section, with a two-page center spread reminiscent for some reason of R. Crumb’s city street scenes. Oyez indeed – worth your silence to read.
[www.roosevelt.edu/oyezreview]

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