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PARENTHETICAL Charlie Kite
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EDITOR'S LETTER
A ROGUE CURE Rae Diamond
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POETRY TRYPTIC Urayoán Noel
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Q+A Cathy Linh Che
ON THE COVER
Jeremy Caniglia is an American figurative painter and illustrator, primarily in fantasy and horror genres. His work is in several important public collections including the Joslyn Art Museum and Iowa State University. Editor-in-Chief & Art Director Eric Akoto eric.akoto@litrousa.com Managing Editor Annikka Olsen annikka.olsen@litrousa.com Assistant Editor Drew Pisarra drew.pisarra@litrousa.com Online Editor online@litrousa.com Advertising sales@litrousa.com Cover Image Jeremy Caniglia General Inquiries info@litrousa.com Subscription Inquiries subscriptions@litrousa.com All other inquiries info@litrousa.com Address 33 Irving Place, New York, NY 10003 USA © Litro Media 2022 ISSN 2687-735x Newsstand distribution www.magazineheavendirect.com
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I
was 14 when I first laid my hands on a chemistry set. It wasn’t mine entirely, mind you. I shared the kit with my lab partner, a London transplant recently from India with whom I’d been paired, simply because my last name began with “A” and his with “B.” Instant mates thanks to the alphabet, we bonded in our compulsory science class via experiments inspired by this newfound kit. The chemistry set, a smart-looking wooden box, came with a test tube rack and niches to store vials of powerful powders as well as a little packet of litmus paper, a knobbed glass rod, and a thick textbook intended to serve as our manual and guide. I don’t recall that book’s title or whether I ever cracked open its spine, frankly. What I do remember are a metal looped device for suspending the test tube over an open flame, a conversion table (translating ounces into spoons) and
my favorite component: the poison labels. We were living life on the edge! Kid “B” was studious, attentive at lectures, and measured ingredients exactingly while Kid “A” dreamt about the potential outcomes of that Pandora’s box of stink bombs, toxins, and disappearing inks. For the next four years, each class was a true “experiment” for the two of us. For while I slopped about, blending sundry tinctures, grounding up crystals, and concocting smells that distressed most of our class, he never undermined the fun even as he ensured we met the demands of that week’s lesson. To me, that’s always been what experimentation should be about: a rebellious mix of pleasure and persnicketiness in search of something new, unexpected, unknown. Which isn’t to say that experimentation doesn’t have a serious side to it, too: An article published at the
