The Magic Behind the Words

Life lessons from one of Alaska’s finest editors

By Don Rearden

Ifirst heard of Alaska Quarterly Review the day I received acceptance into graduate school at UAA. I taught high school English in my hometown of Bethel at the time, and shared the news with Ben Kuntz, a good buddy, and now a professor at the Kuskokwim Campus. He’s easily the most wellread person I know and he became noticeably excited when I said my advisor would be Ronald Spatz. “Whoa,” Kuntz said, “that’s great. He’s the editor of AQR!”

As a Bethel kid, I’m no stranger to acronyms. The tundra town is awash in letter abbreviations for everything from the hospital, to the store, the high school, and every business and building in between. I’d never heard of AQR, or the full name Alaska Quarterly Review, and the look Ben gave me when he realized I’d never heard of this prestigious Alaska literary journal was two parts, are you serious? And one part, and you call yourself a writer!

I instantly understood from Ben’s befuddled look, this outsider and new to Alaska, that AQR was something I should not only know about, but should probably read. And, like most things literary, my pal Ben was correct.

What I didn’t know then, as I poured over one of Ben’s copies of the journal, was the role this Ronald Spatz character and AQR would come to play in my development of becoming the writer and educator I am today.

Ronald Spatz, a UAA professor and founding editor of AQR, took me under his tutelage and, to be completely honest, nearly broke me. He saw something in my work worth fighting for, but he also somehow knew a deep dark dirty secret about my writing, and he was the first one ever, in the history of my entire education, to call me out. He saw and recognized my raw talent, but he knew I was cheating and relying on that talent to dazzle and trick readers without knowing the craft, without knowing how to slow down, or make the work meaningful.

This lesson didn’t come easy for me. When I sat down with him after turning in a draft of my final thesis project, my first novel, he flopped the giant manuscript down on the desk with a resounding thump and said two words: “Rewrite it.”

“Revise it?” I asked. I’d been through several creative writing workshops with Professor Spatz and also had an internship as a grad student reading submissions for AQR, so I knew he could at times be difficult, or not communicate as gracefully as one might like, but I knew his genius and trusted his advice. Still. He couldn’t be saying what I thought he said. Could he?

“Rewrite it,” he said.

I think I eked out something pathetic and desperate like, “But I’m graduating in a few months!”

He proceeded to tell me that my novel felt rushed, plot driven, and sloppy. I asked for an example and he flipped to a random page and read it aloud and I sat there dumbfounded. The passage he read sounded cliché, alien, and horrible. Never had anyone challenged my work. Never had I been told to rewrite something. Never had I been told to slow down. To make the work matter.

I struggled for a bit with the news I wouldn’t be graduating that spring, and that my novel was a bust, but ultimately, I sat down and went to work. I rewrote that novel and learned as much about myself and the writing process as I had in the entirety

“Ronald Spatz and his crack team of editors put together one hell of a magazine. Read it cover to cover; put it on your coffee table; impress your friends. This magazine’s so hot, it makes any number of editors in the Lower 48 look like they’re living in the ice age.”

— JOHN MCNALLY, LITERARY MAGAZINE REVIEW

of my time as a young writer. Not only did I come away from this experience with a better end product, and a manuscript that would ultimately land me my first agent and high level interest from major publishers, but my life had been enriched by someone with the chutzpah to call me out on my flaws and help me become the artist I am today. Without his vision as an editor and advisor, I don’t think I would have gone on to produce writing that I would call art. I would still be a writer, and continue to write, but I know for certain that without Ronald Spatz, I’d never have written a novel that would go on to become something Alaskan students read in their high school or college classes.

Since its founding 40 years ago (August 1980), Alaska Quarterly Review has created strong outward facing connection between Alaska and the larger literary community in the U.S. and abroad, and has been an influential force in support for new and emerging literary work. “With Alaska Quarterly Review’s vantage point here at the top of the world, I have always sought to connect Alaska to the rest of the United States as well as to the global literary community,” says Spatz. “Over these four decades those connections have grown stronger and stronger.” AQR is considered a national treasure when it comes to literary journals, publishing both literary giants and new first-time writers alike. The accolades and acclaim are too numerous to list here, but they are noteworthy and significant and come from places like the The New York Times, The New York Review of Books, The Washington Post, National Poet Laureates, Pulitzer Prize, and MacArthur ‘Genius’ Grant Winners. And while all that is impressive and justified, to me, what is more important is that Spatz and AQR have pushed the literary envelope and given a voice to so many new writers from Alaska and beyond.

“I like to say that Alaska Quarterly Review is of Alaska but not Alaskan,” Spatz recently reflected. “That Alaska’s borders define us more by what they encompass than what they keep out. Integral to that view is the rich Alaska Native culture and heritage. We have been mindful of Alaska Native tradition bearers who keep their cultures alive through their stories and words. AQR’s special issue Alaska Native Writers, Storytellers & Orators was published as a book and has gone through multiple editions with collaborating editors Gary Holthaus, Nora Dauenhauer, and Richard Dauenhauer (for the original edition), and Jeane Breinig and

Without a Paddle

the motor sputtered a lifetime away from the village John lifted the gas tank into the blue sky with one swift jerk empty

no current to carry us home

across the shallow lakes down the winding river

no wind to blow away the growing fog of buzzing vampires

the fourteen feet of aluminum boat carried only the following: one 8th grade whiteboy in hip boots one 10th grade Yupik bird hunting machine two shotguns several dead ducks (various species) one empty red gas tank one silver anchor with yellow rope

missing: gas, oar, radio

we knew this much: no one would look for us no one would worry about us until several hours after dark and that was a month away

we also knew this much: we had to save ourselves or get lucky and hope for other hunters

we didn’t get lucky I stuffed my Remington barrel first into my hip boot and began to paddle

John threw out the anchor towards home and began to pull in the line

the shotgun paddle didn’t work I removed the outboard engine cover and scooped singing row row the boat

progress came an arm-length and anchor throw at a time

hungry and thirsty we stopped and devoured tundra blackberries drank the murky water

throw, pull, paddle paddle, pull, throw

the sun circled the Arctic and threatened to return home still not even on the watery horizon

our stomach’s ached but we laughed, told stories

we would get home eventually mosquito bitten and tired and would never forget to check the fuel

or how an anchor is nothing until it is everything

“Without A Paddle” is taken from Without A Paddle, Don Rearden’s new collection of poetry from Di Angelo Press, released in November 2020.

Pat Partnow (for the expanded edition). Individual works by Alaska Native writers have also appeared in various issues of AQR and we have published special features of the works of Richard Davis Hoffmann (poems), Joan Kane (poems), and Susie Silook (Memoir as Drama).”

“The impact of Alaska Quarterly Review,” U.S. Senator Lisa Murkowski said in a tribute to AQR on the floor of the U.S. Senate, “extends far from its origins in my home state and is worthy of celebration by this body and all Americans who recognize the power of the literary arts to shape our thoughts, our ideals, and our country.” The Washington Post put it this way: “That one of the nation’s best literary magazines comes out of Alaska may seem surprising, but so it is.”

And now, in his 41st year at UAA, Spatz continues to innovate with AQR and has put together a series of virtual readings in a celebration that spans from now until Spring. In true AQR fashion, the readings will come from as diverse of a collection of award winning and bestselling authors to up-and-coming writers as anyone could gather. From literary icons like Celeste Ng, Jane Hirshfield, Yusef Komunyakaa, Naomi Shihab Nye, Tracy Kidder; to beloved Alaskans Peggy Shumaker, the late Eva Saulitis, Emily Wall, X’unei Lance Twitchell; and former Alaskans John Luther Adams, Sean Hill, and Liz Bradfield.

In an editorial note from a recent edition, Spatz sums up the purpose of a journal like AQR, and gives us a glimpse into his life’s work and perhaps our own, “Each of the essays, stories, and poems in this edition is about a certain truth and, by extension, about the experiential and revelatory qualities that express fundamental human values. Ultimately, that’s why the literary arts (and all arts) matter.” He elaborates further on the importance of this work, “The literary arts help us overcome an inherent myopic tribal nature, whether it be based on national, racial, ethnic, religious, or sexual identities, in order to forge the connections that come from the shared experiences that are created. That body of work is a reservoir of truth that is critical to our understanding of social justice and human liberty. The stakes could not be higher or the need more urgent.”

The needs of life today on so many levels are certainly urgent, and yet we find ourselves with access to meaningful and important homegrown work like AQR that we can slow down and immerse ourselves in, and in doing so, become better human beings.

“That one of the nation’s best literary magazines comes out of Alaska may seem surprising, but so it is.”

— THE WASHINGTON POST

Ronald Spatz has been editor of Alaska Quarterly Review since its founding.

I know for certain that what I’ve learned from Ronald Spatz and the artists on the pages of Alaska Quarterly Review has made me a stronger writer and a better person, and I am grateful. It is worth reflecting on those educators and the art that we encounter in our lives that change and shape us. Rarely do we have the time or opportunity to express our gratitude to the person who inspired or motivated us to strive a little harder, or stretch ourselves, to believe we are capable of doing better. To the teacher who handed us the book that would alter the trajectory of our life. The musician who struck a chord of a heart string. The painter with brushstrokes that transported us beyond the canvas. The editor who saw the magic in our own words. ■

Don Rearden is a masked and socially distanced author and professor. He’s currently the Chair of the Department of Writing at UAA. His books include The Raven’s Gift, Never Quit, Warrior’s Creed, and a new collection of poems called Without A Paddle.

Pièces de Résistance

Pièces de Résistance is a weekly benefit series celebrating AQR’s 40th anniversary that began on October 4 and continues through May 2, 2021. The event features 21 free, live online readings and conversations with 58 exceptional new, emerging, and established poets and writers who have appeared in AQR. It is sponsored by the Center for the Narrative & Lyric Arts, hosted by the Anchorage Museum, and moderated by author Heather Lende and AQR co-founder and editor Ronald Spatz. Learn more at aqreview.org/live and on the Alaska Quarterly Review YouTube Channel.