Wilde Boy No. 1: The Victorian Era by ulysses constance bougie

©Wilde Boy Literature Magazine, 2018 Cover photograph: Proserpine's Offering, Jasmine Knobloch.

Table of Contents Introduction Breakfast on Pluto C. Bougie Prose The Lost Future Predictive Correspondence of Edgar Allan Poe, Oscar Wilde, and Charles Dickens Michael Prihoda Essays The Savagery of Peter Pan Lauren Gargiulo Poetry Boy Erin Emily Anne Vance Beyond this moment Gervanna Stephens The God’s Truth Katie Manning Burned Anne Leigh Parrish 2

III EK Queerly, Yours Afieya Kipp Delusions of Grandeur Harley Claes Yeats, On Being Asked the Order of Senses He Would Sacrifice for His Beloved Paul Potter Interviews Angelical Ravings A conversation with Harley Claes De Profundis A conversation with Katie Manning Art Pre-Raphaelite Woman Jasmine Knobloch

“If, with the literate, I am Impelled to try an epigram, I never seek to take the credit; We all assume that Oscar said it.” —Dorothy Parker, 1928

Breakfast on Pluto C. Bougie It’s been a long few months, I think—autumn is, for some, beginning a new school and, for others, applying to new ones—for still others, the season is a beginning of a different sort. And these things can all be stressful as hell, as nice as they can be on occasion. I started putting together Wilde Boy on a whim in August that I can barely remember now in November; it seemed, at the time, like a pretty thing to do, and, since then, I’ve run through a good number of stressful days trying to balance out surviving my senior year of university, applying to graduate school, and organizing issue one. At one point, even, one of my professors became, for an hour, my therapist; she prescribed me Keats’ letters and “Ode on Melancholy.” Suffice to say, it’s been a wild several months— but it is 11:11pm, now, as I write this ending note. A time for wishes. Things are still stressful, and still messy, but this minute, maybe, could be a moment of peace. It is my hope that this first issue of Wilde Boy provides for you such a moment—have your 11:11. Recall that we have all happened before. The art in this issue is inspired by Poe and Dickens, the Brownings and Yeats, and I couldn’t be prouder of it. It’s been my hope, in putting together this issue, to encourage readers and contributors both to see the Victorian Era as more than a mere isolated period of history—its influence continues to lay hands on art produced today. It’s also been my hope to advance the notion that the Victorian Era was not merely occupied by the British, the rich, the white: its inhabitants were diverse, as are the artists represented in this issue. And they were—are—important. Their art is beautiful.

It is 2:30 now, and my window is dark, and I hope that this reading finds you well. Love to everyone who contributed to, supported, and is currently finding solace in this collection of works.

The Lost Future Predictive Correspondence of Edgar Allan Poe, Oscar Wilde, and Charles Dickens Michael Prihoda Dear O. and C., Been thinking of a heart beneath floorboards. I cannot seem to shake the trope of physical entrapment ever since I wrote that story about the Cask of A. Much disappointed to hear what you thought of it, O… …everything is madness. Can you imagine being gripped, fastened, by a single moment of your life? Perhaps the future is a place where we might erase the ignoble passion of a single moment from our eyes. I know what would be first to go from mine… In commiseration, E.A. Poe Dear E.A. and O., Not sure about new story idea, E.A. A heart beneath floorboards? For as much as you may ponder mental entrapment, the present, and even the future, will be one of physical entrapment, not so unlike your Cask of A, which I enjoyed, however little I might be inclined to share it around the dinner table. You are a man for dark nights, E.A., while I am a man for showing the darkness of the day… …thinking of this new character. Might name him Oliver. Pleased to enclose a first chapter of the manuscript… No use for a careless spirit, C. Dickens 7

Dear E.A. and C., Apologies for delayed response. The trial is over. And why, gentlemen, might not the future be a place of both physical and mental entrapment? God knows I have been through both. And why? The color of my hair… …appreciate your response to that poem, E.A., though I daresay I fear I should have been bolder. Might our descendants have any notion of what hair color means to one such as me? How long before my kind might be about uncapped? …each of us bears our soul in writing, don’t we? Yet it is not our soul we hope others will examine, but their own, that of the world. I fear… Aggrieved as ever, O. Wilde Dear O. and C., …to answer your inquiry: do I ever feel as if the crown will analyze its soul? Hardly. Writers are black cats against a faceless monument. In commiseration, E.A. Poe Dear O. and E.A., …bears remembering. I find solace in our letters. To know the lostness of any future might be found in our meandering discourse. 8

No use for a careless spirit, C. Dickens Dear C. and E.A., ….must grieve some more. For everything the world offers, it takes something away. …and C., might I inquire as to the origination of your character, Oliver? I find him morosely endearing. A tragedy for the ages. Perhaps the type of boy who will become myth in distant future, nothing more than a fairy tale. Is that your point? Aggrieved as ever, O. Wilde Dear C. and O., Be that your point, C.? If so, I hardly need remind you the content of those fairy tales that much inspire my domain. Life has been, remains, and will be, grotesque. I hope you will enjoy the story of a beating heart that I have enclosed. I take a risk in sending a first draft but it will not slough from my mind and I felt I must share this mad token with other brains who might understand my growing obsession. In commiseration, E.A. Poe 9

Dear E.A. and O., You need fear no recourse to fairy tale from my new work. Perhaps this, among my current novels, will become a beacon for future generations… …we have let it happen now. Will it always be this way? No use for a careless spirit, C. Dickens Dear C. and E.A., …did not sleep last night. E.A., your story has gripped me. I feel as if I have glimpsed the future of every mind, every man with a hand to his own throat… …and though it feels the world is tightening the hand, forcing it closed, I found hope in that confession. Absolute release. I believe you have found the future, E.A. …which of you, which of me, which of us, will they remember? Will it matter? Aggrieved as ever, O. Wilde

The Savagery of Peter Pan Lauren Gargiulo Children’s literature prior to the Golden Age (1865-1926) offers clearer insight as to which characters children are supposed to learn from, and root for. Consisting of stock characters that fall into either the “good” or the “bad” box, the purpose of children’s literature before the mid 19th century was to instruct, not entertain. Children’s literature of the mid 19th century to the mid-twentieth-century started evolving, the purpose changing from frightening children to be good in the eyes of God, to delighting them with stories written with them in mind. Characters such as Peter Pan from J.M. Barrie’s Peter and Wendy blur the lines between stock hero and villain by giving both heroes and villains good and bad characteristics. As a result, whether a character’s action is “good” or “bad” is a matter of perspective, making both protagonists and antagonists morally ambiguous. The Harry Potter of his day, Peter Pan is not necessarily a “good” character in terms of his characteristics and morals. Pan’s arch nemesis, Captain Hook, is not a completely “bad” character by these same characteristics and moral standards presented during Barrie’s time. The Darlings represent Barrie’s idea of the perfect Victorian family: mother, father, three children and a nanny. Peter Pan is a Victorian-era parent’s worst nightmare; he is a messy, brash, sly, disobedient boy who lures children away from their beds in the middle of the night, taking them away to an island where they spend their days killing pirates and playing make-believe. Parallel to Pan is Captain James Hook, a well-bred, well-educated gentleman who is a perfect example of a Victorian-era romantic hero. Captain James 1 Hook is first described as an elegant figure “the blackest and largest jewel.” Hook carries himself like a gentleman and dresses the part of a courtly aristocrat rather than a pirate: “he somewhat aped the attire associated with the name of Charles II, having heard it said on some earlier period of his 1

James Matthew Barrie, “Peter and Wendy.” In Peter Pan in Kensington Garden; and Peter and

Wendy, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 69-226.

career that he bore a strange resemblance to the ill-fated Stuarts.” Hook, unlike Peter Pan, is well educated, having attended “a famous public school [Eton College]” and has strong morals and integrity “[b]ut above all he retained the passion for food form. Good form! However much he may have degenerated, he still knew that this is all that really matters.” However, despite the fact that Hook is well-educated and well-groomed, he is unmistakably a pirate. “[I]t is said he [Captain Hook] was the only man that the Sea-Cook [Long John Silver] feared.” Unlike Pan, a feral child, whose sense of right and wrong is based completely off what he sees as fair or unfair, Hook is knowledgeable and aware of more than just his immediate surroundings. Hook’s breeding is what makes him a fearful villain to Pan, who is a directionless child with no sense of the world. Something so untameable and wild to Hook would be frightening, as Hook “was never more sinister than when he was most polite, which is probably the truest form of breeding; and the elegance of his diction, even when he was swearing… showed him one of a different caste from his crew.” Appearance-wise, in strong contrast to Captain James Hook, whose first impression is one of a fierce, yet refined gentleman who knows about some of life’s finer things yet chooses a life of cruelty and villainy, Peter Pan is the opposite of Hook’s dangerous elegance, described by Mrs. Darling as “a lovely boy, clad in skeleton leaves and the juices that ooze out of trees.” Pan seems enchanting and alluring to children, but, to grown-ups, he is the opposite of what they want their children to become; growing up is the last thing that Pan wants to do—which is, in part, why Hook and Pan hate each other so strongly: neither is what the other wants to ever be. Hook rules his men with a firm hand, making a clear line between their different statuses and treating his crew “as dogs… and as dogs they obeyed him.” Pan has his own control over the Lost Boys, who as a group “are forbidden by Peter to look in the least like him.” Much like Hook’s pirates, the Lost Boys are not so much a group of individuals as they are Peter’s to rule over and command as he sees fit in any way that amuses him. The Lost Boys are 12

completely at Peter’s mercy, as are the pirates to Hook; both have to conform to their leader’s rules. The Lost Boys live in the fear of puberty: “when they seem to be growing up, which is against the rules, Peter thins them out.” The pirates don’t know what will set off Hook when Skylights “lurches clumsily against him [Hook] ruffling his lace collar; the hook shoots forth, there is a tearing sound and one screech, then the body is kicked aside, and the pirates pass on. He [Hook] has not even taken the cigars from his mouth.” The Lost Boys, like the pirates, are ignorant of the outside world, and anything else that isn’t part of Pan’s version of reality. The group’s twins do not give themselves names or individual personalities as “Peter never quite knew what twins were, and his band were not allowed to know anything he did not know, so these two were always vague about themselves.” While Hook is quite villainous—he and his men kill the Lost Boys, kidnap Wendy and engage in bloody battles with a group of children who only have daggers as weapons and “the skins of bears slain by themselves” for clothing—Hook is still a mortal man. Hook is afraid of both Peter Pan and the crocodile to whom Pan fed his arm, fearing death, as it would be his end. Pan fears growing up, because it would be his end: “I don’t want ever to be a man,” he says—“I want always to be a little boy and have fun.” Although Peter lures the Darling children to Neverland, he does not forcefully kidnap them. Many of Pan’s indifferences could be explained by the same reasoning as that which would explain John and Michael slowly forgetting their parents, distraught in England, and Wendy always assuming their mother would leave the window open for them: a major theme Barrie writes about is the selfishness of children. Both boy and man, hero and villain, fight for their survival and the life that they both want. While Hook sees his rivalry with Peter Pan too seriously and treats every interaction as a life-or-death situation, striving to get Peter, “who first gave the brute [the crocodile] its taste for [Hook],” Pan does not. Until Hook kidnaps the Lost Boys and Wendy, Pan treats his battles with Hook like any other game he plays. When unfairness happens, Pan does not know 13

what to do: “it’s unfairness was what dazes Peter. It made him quite helpless.” This makes him dangerous, as he takes nothing, including other’s lives, seriously: “He was less sorry than Wendy for Tiger Lilly; it was two against one that angered him, and he meant to save her.” Hook is a villain because he purposefully does villainous things. Pan is a morally ambiguous protagonist, leaning towards antihero, in that he does not think outside of how to get what he wants as soon as possible. Hook does things knowing they will cause harm and does not care, whereas Pan does things not caring or thinking about their potential outcomes. Both Pan and Hook’s actions cause purposeful harm. While Captain James Hook is unquestionably Barrie’s villain due not only to his actions, but the intent behind his actions, Peter Pan sees everything as a game: his morally questionable actions and desire to fulfill only his own needs do not make him a “good” character, but a character who is, morally, in the grey area.

Boy Erin Emily Ann Vance An Erasure of “The Laboratory” by Robert Browning I am moist and strange, oozing sweet poison. All of the invisible pleasure mounted and burnt.

Beyond this moment Gervanna Stephens If all is fleeting farthest gleams and eddying nights then what is us in the wake of this cycle, here then not? presumptuous changing life to the next existential interlude untrodden by the greater picture the span is a wish nature's breathiest whisper immortalized beyond this moment.

The God’s Truth* Katie Manning I wanted them to eat the fruit, to sink their teeth into flesh and juice and open their minds. I taunted, “Don’t eat this fruit. Don’t you dare eat this fruit…” There may have been a serpent near the tree, but none talked. In fact, the couple walked through the garden in the rain, when they thought my sight was clouded by the storm. Hand in hand they marched to the tree, and the woman did bite first, but the man knew enough to need no persuasion. Then I gave the woman labor in birth and the man labor in work— the gift of pain so they could feel pleasure, exhaustion so they could have joy. Yes, I led them from the garden, but I gave them the whole world instead. *An audio version of this poem can be found here.

Burned Anne Leigh Parrish two little circles below her elbow reach for her porcelain hand on different planes as if the arm had been held and gently turned— as if the one who touched his lit cigarette to her skin felt a bit of whimsy as he considered which spot to kiss next here? or here? her input necessary, torture a partnership, a feedback loop, a cycle that tightly spins which explains all the other spheres beneath the fabric of her clothes the galaxy he put there in honor of how he burned, himself, in his own big bang, flung across the heavens in search of something to cherish to make himself whole his joy at finding her hotter than any star she loved him for a time until arguments became circular and logic inverse as if they’d never been in line 18

liquor the curve he slid down while she sat up straight— when she worked herself free of her ties she doused his passed-out body with gasoline he kept in a can in case the end came, or the big one hit, or the country went mad, lit a match with steady hands, and never let it fall

III EK When first you asked me sweetly to undress I saw the hunger welled up in your stare. You so craved my charming awkwardness Or so you said as blushing I did bare At first only my girlish shoulder blades Your gaze was like the sun ready to burn As nipples grazed the chill evening shade You met them with your rising heat in turn. That I did tremble when I removed the last So you did catch me in your arms and churn Taking my shaking hand in yours and fast Your lips taught what they only meant to learn. And so you asked to come and thus to show But my reveal did only make my mystery grow

Queerly, Yours Afieya Kipp 1 We cannot live, hope

too much whence one same touch sweet fountains flow:

Forbidden. Such ties turn deep rich

burns… breath of spring,

Born A dream,

unknown.

2 We alternate, aware or unaware,

virtue

impulsive

Most full. The melody of waves have language all thine own, a mystery by sun and sea. 3 when a soul, Throw out

doth full force on another soul, the true

And steadfast love of years; faithful a kindred heart! 4 conscience and

concentration make

Love.

in perfect whole is Love in sooth,

for bonds

perfect,

Like sister flowers

sweet…

full bliss

allied.

5 Never to mortals given— Oh! lay

lovely unto Heaven.

Delusions of Grandeur Harley Claes Kiss me on tender junes, throw me away on hard julys. Where you can find me in a satin slip, soothing the bruises on my knees with Patchouli balm. Ruggedly kissing goodbye to all the memories better not revisited. In bathe of the new moon I was by the great browning elm where the cranes lay to rest, shedding thus crocodile tears, akin to the shackles of my sweet, lady Ambrosia. Freshly composed in the womb is this newborn perspective. While I am nude and submerged in a passionfruit bath French Yé-yé is on the radio backdrop. I find myself in this milk-film foam of a wine-barrel bath questioning love and its place in my life. I once made men into romantics, with the flick of a wrist and a ritual of soul-kiss. However with age, I bored of the theatrics and the stillness of eve, such a quiet tone from a loud mouth. The punishment inflicted on thee for merely existing, is long past me now. Oh how I loathe the game of love roulette. Furthermore unbecoming by self, I no longer unravel at the hands of the many muses. No man coursing through my veins like turpentine, or plunged in blue and bruised in autumn. May the starless sky behold me, amongst the holy archetypes, alone and lavish.

Yeats, On Being Asked the Order of Senses He Would Sacrifice for His Beloved* Paul Potter Taste first. Yes, if it had to go. But let your sour last be its breath. Next, smell, though darling you should know, Not to breathe you is its own death. And the hardest, dear? Eyes or ears? If ears, speak close, that I may keep The bell within your voice for years; If eyes, let yours last be my reap. But, moot, the final thought resists: What moves in you, too moves me best. For touch, this letter pointless rests. Without yours—I do not exist. *An audio version of this poem can be found here.

Angelical Ravings A conversation with Harley Claes Harley Claes is a poet, perfume maker, and novelist from Detroit, Michigan. She runs the zine ANGELICAL RAVINGS, is an editor at Homology Lit, and aims to promote literary revolution. Aside from “Delusions of Grandeur”—found on page 23—she has work upcoming and appearing now in FLAPPERHOUSE, Persephone’s Daughters, Terse Journal, Anti-Heroin Chic Mag, Rose Quartz Journal and more. Here, she and I talk Poe, Rimbaud, Ginsberg, and her own stunning work. C. Bougie: Your work and philosophy seem more Beat-inspired than anything—where does the Victorian fit into this? As a self-claimed experimental author, how can a movement more formulaic than experimental inspire contemporary works such as your own? Does the Victorian have a place in contemporary reading and writing? Harley Claes: I have always loved the way language is written out so poetically in Victorian pieces. I’ve always appreciated the clothing, the aesthetic, the music and the atmosphere that exists within the Victorian Era. I often-times see the world as a cinematic rendition on the overly dramatized of those times. I think the vocabulary, and the slang of the Victorian Era, among any other era, could be incorporated into the contemporary. I used to live by the phrase “Regress to Transgress,” which is a matter of reflecting on past times to locate its flaws, but also bringing back the substantial pieces in art that we have lost to time. Every lost era can teach us something about the direction we can go in, where we have become lost in some ways. I have my own formula, and I think with all art every formula is fluid and adapts to its artist. Personally, I like to be poetic and metaphorical with everything I write, ESPECIALLY novels. My novels personally have lyrical flow to them; if read aloud I’d like them to be material you could waltz to.

CB: That last thought is really a beautiful one! I’ve always liked the idea that novels could be just as musical as poetry. Tell me a bit about your Angelical Ravings Zine and the literary revolution you are promoting along with it—does the Victorian have any place in these spaces? Do you feel it has the capability to inspire either of them? HC: The root of the name “Angelical Ravings,” which is the title of my zine, derives from the beat poet Allen Ginsberg. He referred to his writing as this, angelical ravings. He believed himself to be a mystic in some sense, and that he had a connection with otherworldly affairs because of his long experimentation with the derangement of the senses. I love the idea of incorporating something as holy as angels into something as holy as art, especially the literary branch of it. I find creating art to be a divine practice, a ritualistic one. With this zine I want to showcase the esoteric, the spiritual, the explicit and erotic (primarily). I want to reach into the parts of people they do not want to see, somewhere that touches them. I see a lot of the same themes and rules in literary journals, but nowhere that I feel could personally encompass my aim with my work, and the few others like me that have similar, perhaps “controversial” visions. The Literary Revolution is something that everyone could benefit from, not just writers. Right now, kids need books. With the rise of technology, attention spans are worsening and it’s hard to keep your eye on something that does not encourage multitasking. Nowadays young ones are used to instant gratification and things that spoonfeed entertainment, like Netflix. The art of the novel is not getting the attention it needs to survive. Local bookstores are closing, even big chains like Borders we have lost. We must “begin in the horizons where others collapsed!” as Arthur Rimbaud once said. Though beginning before even then, the Victorian Era is a good place to begin. Many works of that time set in motion revolutionary thinking, one being The Torture Garden by Octave Mirbeau. It was once described as “the 27

most sickening work of art in the nineteenth century.” What more could inspire change than something like that? The metaphor in this novel particularly is inspiring because it criticizes the values of Western Civilization in the most disturbing of ways, while subtly pointing out the corruption in government. It is both political and anarchist, beautiful and horrifying. CB: I like that you’re contending here the misconception that all Victorian art was very traditional and formulaic—The Torture Garden, for example, is composed of a number of different styles of writing and stories twined into a whole. Are any of your own works inspired by the art of the Victorian Era? HC: In nearly all of my poetry and novel work you can find influence from the Victorian Era in the vocabulary and flow of language used. Particularly, every piece of dialogue in my work is boldly Victorian. My novel Masque of Disorder that I have been writing for four years and am at an unfortunate standstill with is unashamedly Victorian and very 1920s inspired as well. Having its very own speakeasies and opium dens, it exists within a reality where their little city is eternally stuck in the slums of those times. With dialogue reflecting the 1800s, the protagonist has an artist’s soul and can only speak in tragedies, poetically. CB: Do you have any favorite pieces of Victorian Era literature or art? HC: Edgar Allan Poe’s collected works, The Torture Garden and these Chatterbox nursery books made for children in the 1800s that I collect. The Chatterbox books, among other antiques I collect, are very rare to find. One has fallen apart from the spine, and I have made collages and pen pal ephemera of it. I have always been influenced by the art of that time, and wish I had the hand to draw it. Peter Pan was written on the very edge of the 1800s and 1900s, in 1904, but its language reflects the century before it. It is innocent and heartwarming, and I have based many of my characters’ voices off of the characters in that book. There is also my favorite writer, Vladimir 28

Nabokov, who was, although only born in 1899, I can see his writing is very inspired by the Victorian as mine is. His book Ada or Ardor: A Family Chronicle stars two very precocious children in the middle of the nineteenth century. It is beautiful, uncomfortable, and unforgettable. It is such a long novel that you become so emotionally attached to the characters as you see them grow from children into elders throughout the span of the chronicle. Another delight of mine takes place in the nineteenth century, but was written more recently. It is called Tipping the Velvet and it is a very unique sapphic love story. It has always been intriguing for me to indulge in art that focuses on sapphic lovers in unaccepting times. Heartbreaking, yes, but it makes us sapphics feel less alone in our secrecy. CB: What has your experience interacting with Victorian art been like? Do you find that it inspires you? HC: As a child in middle school, I read Edgar Allan Poe’s collected works. My stepfather thought it would be very advanced for a 13 year old, but I read interested in learning each word. I joked that my stepfather was a “walking library” because he would answer each of my questions with a definition. As a result, my vocabulary became very broad at a young age. The Victorian inspires me so much to this day that I tend to write pieces that would be better appreciated during those times instead of our own. I have heard on more than one occasion that my book Pity The Poetics was a hard read because of the vocabulary I use. I write symbolically with riddle-like qualities, but I know that this work could be appreciated by those lovers of the Victorian literary era. I hope that I can turn your readers on too trying out this more modern Victorian-inspired piece. I even have two short stories within its pages based in the nineteenth century. CB: What are your thoughts on traditional versus more non-traditional literature? Do you feel that one type of writing has

become more popular than the other in recent years? If so, do you agree with that popularity? HC: I love both traditional and non-traditional literature! I had a very avant-garde phase recently where all I read was William S. Burroughs, but at this time I am interested in more of the traditional. It really depends on my mood, as I read so many different books at once. It is a hard habit to break. I have always preferred more experimental works, even if they are only slightly. However I’m not afraid to admit that I have come across some truly terrible works posing as ‘experimental’ when they were truly just word vomit that made no sense and had no poetic merit. I think traditional, even MINIMALISTIC work is the new normal. I have noticed a lot of Bukowski inspiration in modern poetry, especially the stuff you would find on Tumblr. I’m really hoping for a new, different rise in genres so we can expand the literary world in different ways, into different mediums. I think traditional and minimalist literature will always be the most popular at this rate. I think often of how back in the nineteenth century everyone dressed so elegantly, and spoke so eloquently. Nowadays a white t-shirt and simplified slang is the new normal. It seems fit that the literature that is mainstream would continue to be simplified among everything else. This is why I find the literary revolution necessary—other things need to come into focus.

De Profundis A conversation with Katie Manning Dr. Katie Manning is the founding editor-in-chief of Whale Road Review and an associate professor of writing at Point Loma Nazarene University in San Diego. She is the author of Tasty Other, which won the 2016 Main Street Rag Poetry Book Award, and four chapbooks, including The Gospel of the Bleeding Woman. Her poems have appeared in New Letters, Poet Lore, Stirring, THRUSH, Verse Daily, and many journals and anthologies. Her poem “The God’s Truth” can be found on page 16. C. Bougie: You’ve written and published a number of books—are any of your works in particular inspired in form or content by the art of the Victorian Era? In what ways? Katie Manning: I would say that my first poetry chapbook, The Gospel of the Bleeding Woman, owes something to Christina Rossetti’s “Goblin Market.” I was in awe of the way Rossetti reimagined a biblical narrative and focused on women. When I wrote Tasty Other, I was also working on the critical portion of my dissertation, which examined poems that were written in the voices of mothers addressing infants. I was focusing on Romantic women poets, but one of them was Felicia Hemans, who was on the cusp of the Victorian period. The way Hemans wrote about motherhood in some terrifying situations especially influenced the way I thought and wrote about motherhood (because motherhood is always terrifying, no matter how much the sweet, pastel portrayals of mothers and babies try to cover the terror). I’ve immersed myself in 19th century British literature, so I have no doubt that Victorian art influences my work in many more ways that I don’t even realize consciously. 31

CB: Do you have any favorite pieces of Victorian Era literature or art? KM: I have so many favorites pieces of Victorian literature that I’m going to agonize over this answer if I name titles, so let me list a few of my favorite authors very quickly: Charlotte Bronte, Oscar Wilde, Christina Rossetti, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Bram Stoker, Lewis Carroll… and many more! CB: I’m going to ask you about your liking Wilde, given he’s the inspiration for this lit mag’s name—is there anything about his work or life that entrances you in particular? (He was my first favorite “classics” author in high school, so I couldn’t resist asking this.) KM: So much of Wilde’s work and life entranced me when I encountered him in my first literature class in college, and his work still stuns me. The first piece I read of his was The Importance of Being Earnest, and I’ve seen it performed a few times now, and his wordplay and humor are just delicious. Language play and humor are the elements that first drew me into poetry when I was a child, and I’ve never lost my appetite for them. Then I read The Picture of Dorian Gray for another college literature class, and that novel continues to haunt me; it’s widely referenced in pop culture (one of my favorite allusions came from the mouth of Stewie Griffin in Family Guy), and I find myself alluding to it regularly as well. The playfulness I loved in Earnest I found again in Wilde’s “The Decay of Lying: An Observation,” and I still think of this text whenever I consider the purpose of poetry specifically or of art more broadly. The despair I found in Dorian Gray was amplified in Wilde’s De Profundis, in which he writes without the veil of fiction about his own youth, pursuits, and regrets after his public trial and imprisonment. His imprisonment and early death still devastate me and always will. CB: You have a PhD with focuses in creative writing, women’s literature, and feminist theory—does the Victorian have any special place in these particular fields for you? 32

KM: Yes! One of my four doctoral exams was in 19th century British literature as well. “The Woman Question” permeates Victorian literature, women writers often used male or gender ambiguous pseudonyms, and serialization played a major role in how creative work was distributed to readers (and how work was composed for serial formats). All of those interests intersect for me. CB: You teach a number of creative writing classes—in what ways do you think the art of the Victorian Era can inspire contemporary art? Have you ever mentioned anything like this relationship in class? KM: I love showing my students responses to Victorian literature. One of my favorite pairings is “Casabianca” by Felicia Hemans (slightly pre-Victorian with an 1826 publication, but popular in the 1850s and on) and Elizabeth Bishop’s response poem, also called “Casabianca.” In my literature classes, I have students write creative responses, so I see a lot of 21st century American responses to 19th century British poems. I think of all poetry, and all art, as a response to something, whether we’re responding to another piece of literature or art, to history, to personal experience—art is always a response. We’re still asking many of the same questions that people were asking in the Victorian Era, so I think that’s probably why Victorian art is still intriguing and still inspiring contemporary artistic responses.

Contributors

C. Bougie, editor, is an undergraduate English major with focuses in creative writing and LGBTQ+ studies. He has previously published poems and short stories in Vulture Bones, Polemical Zine, and A Velvet Giant, and has work upcoming in The Fruit Tree and Neon Mariposa. Follow him on Twitter @cpbwrites. Harley Claes is a poet, perfume maker and novelist from Detroit, Michigan. Her work is oftentimes anachronistic, mystical and romantic. She runs the zine ANGELICAL RAVINGS. Her first self-published anthology is titled ‘Pity The Poetics.’ She is also an editor at Homology Lit. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in FLAPPERHOUSE, Persephone’s Daughters, Terse Journal, Anti-Heroin Chic Mag, Rose Quartz Journal and more. Her website is h ttp://harleyclaes.com. Lauren Gargiulo is a writer from and living in Vancouver, BC. Lauren is currently completing a BA in English Literature from Queen’s University. Lauren writes poetry, screenplays, prose and nonfiction. Lauren is a mental health advocate whose interests include tea, alcohol, poetry, literature, and horror and dystopian worlds. Lauren is a regular poetry contributor to Rose Quartz Journal, and also writes for The LitNerds. You can find Lauren on Twitter and Instagram @LovinGarr. Afieya Kipp (she/her) is a queer poet and editor born in Brooklyn, NY. Her work can be found or is forthcoming in The Penmen Review, The Thought Erotic, Pussy Magic Press, Scrittura Mag, Badlands Literary Journal, and more. She is the author of the forthcoming titles, “Investments in Weak Vessels” (Whiskey Tit Books) and "Hopefully You Find Something Meaningful In This" (Vessel Press), as well as “(black)Moans(wane)s” (Vessel Press), which is available via Payhip and Amazon.

Afieya received her MA in Poetry from Southern New Hampshire University and a BFA with distinction in painting from Kean University. Currently, she is a regular contributor at Rose Quartz Journal, and is the founder and editor of Vessel Press, an independent, inclusive, electronic micro press committed to publishing the work of powerful womxn. She lives in northern New Jersey where she carries poems in her wallet and is an MFA candidate at Lindenwood University. Follow her on Twitter @AfieyaK and @vessel_press. Jasmine Knobloch, cover artist, is an undergraduate English major with focuses in video game studies and literary theory. Follow her on Twitter @jd_knobloch. Katie Manning is the founding editor-in-chief of Whale Road Review and an associate professor of writing at Point Loma Nazarene University in San Diego. She is the author of Tasty Other, which won the 2016 Main Street Rag Poetry Book Award, and four chapbooks, including The Gospel of the Bleeding Woman. Her poems have appeared in New Letters, Poet Lore, Stirring, THRUSH, Verse Daily, and many journals and anthologies. Find her online at www.katiemanningpoet.com. Michael Prihoda lives in central Indiana. He is the editor of After the Pause, an experimental literary magazine and small press. His work has received nominations for the Pushcart Prize and the Best of the Net Anthology and he is the author of eight poetry collections, most recently Years Without Room (Weasel Press, 2018). Paul Potter is a writer and actor from Huntington Beach, CA. He recently received his MFA in screenwriting from UCLA, and currently has scripts in film festivals around the world. His studio, Blank Verse Films, produces recitations and dramatic adaptations of poems. 36

Anne Leigh Parrish's new novel, Maggie’s Ruse, will be published in October 2019 by Unsolicited Press. Previous titles are: The Amendment, a novel (Unsolicited Press, 2018); Women Within, a novel (Black Rose Writing, 2017); By the Wayside, stories (Unsolicited Press, 2017); What Is Found, What Is Lost, a novel (She Writes Press, 2014); Our Love Could Light the World, stories, (She Writes Press, 2013) and All the Roads That Lead from Home, stories, (Press 53, 2011). Find her online at anneleighparrish.com. Gervanna Stephens is a Jamaican poet and proud Slytherin with congenital amputation living in Canada. Her works have appeared/are forthcoming in Moonchild Magazine, Ghost City Press, Montreal Writes, Mojave Heart & Empty Mirror. She is Assistant Editor with The/tƐmz/Review, hates public speaking, has two sisters who are better writers than her & thinks unicorns laugh when we say they aren’t real. Tweets @gravitystephens. Erin Emily Anne Vance’s work is forthcoming in Coffin Bell Journal, Augur, Post Ghost Press, and Bad Nudes. She is a contributing reader and writer for Awkward Mermaid Literary Magazine. A 2017 recipient of the Alberta Foundation for the Arts Young Artist Prize and a 2018 Finalist for the Alberta Magazine Awards in Fiction, she will complete her MA in Creative Writing in August 2018 and an MA in Folklore in 2020. Erin's debut novel, Advice for Amateur Beekeepers and Taxidermists will be published by Stonehouse Publishing in 2019.