By Jose
Zines, like all printed matter, are tree killers. A ream of paper is 500 sheets; roughly 5 lbs of paper. Only about 50% of the mass of wood can be processed into pulp for paper-making. All told, an adult Douglas Fir tree gets processed into about 160 reams of paper. The average zine is a mere 15 sheets, so that same tree could also become 5,000 zines. Each of those zines speaks for different writers and artists — punk manifestos, queer poetry, anarchist theory, and meditative thoughts from the underground. If you were a pine tree, and you could pick, wouldn’t you rather become a zine? So send us your dead trees!
Eaves of Ass #9
$6 – 28 pages PO Box 42081, Portland, OR 97242
Craven Rock is a large, hazardous stone outcrop on the eastern shore of Marrowstone Island in Puget Sound. I can only assume that’s where our author got his pseudonym. Craven Rock is not made of the local bedrock, it’s a glacial erratic, meaning like the author, it traveled there from parts unknown. I appreciate a good geology reference.
I have suspected for years that Craven Rock is a pseudonym for Joshua James Amberson of Antiquated Future. But that’s like saying Superman is Clark Kent. The truth is that Craven Rock is more real than any comic book character. I quite liked his 2019 book Juggalo Country. This is a man who has walked among the juggaloes and lived to tell the tale. As exotic as they seem, Juggalos are real, and as dangerous as a Holstein bull or any piss-drunk cowpuncher.
Eaves of Ass reports on the day to day work of temp labor at the Pendleton Round-Up, a Rodeo in Oregon that’s been operating for over 100 years. A rodeo is a dangerous place for temps: unironic patriotism, public urination, excessive drinking, and half-tame animals. But most of their time is spent guarding entrances and exits and baby-sitting the drunk cowboys and cowgirls. Management is less than supportive. He writes ‘They try to disguise their contempt for us. We don’t give a shit.” The feeling is clearly mutual.
Letterfounder #29
20 pages – Free PO Box 392, Lewiston, ME 04243
Jessy Kendall is the founder of Letterfounder. It’s a quarter scale poetry and media zine clearly assembled paste-up —by hand. The tell-tale cut lines and stapler dents are visible like tool marks on a hewn roof beam left behind by an unknown carpenter.
In general, it’s difficult to review poetry zines, and this one more than most. Instead of an immersive read, it lightly samples Jessy’s work, and includes some works from other poets and other zines; some I’ve heard of and others not. The art and commentary is a bit random. I certainly like that. On page 17 she asks how bats poop. Jessy, fear not; they flip up and hang from their thumbs to avoid pooping on themselves. I knew a guy in college who could do the same trick.
Ear of Corn #60
12 pages – $3 foodfortunata@hotmail.com
Senor Food includes a note which reads “Enjoy the slop.” To me zines are fine literature; the artistic writing of the underground, where real, feeling humans still rip their hearts out and scrawl their true words on the skins of dead trees to share them with the world outside the forest canopy. Next to that the Cimarron Review is just mass media. The only writing I’d call “slop” comes from generative AI.
This is a slightly slimmer issue than usual but it’s chock full of reviews. I’ve read several issues over the years and the reviews are almost always punk, hardcore or hardcore punk, maybe a wee bit of grindcore. I do wonder what Food would do if a quality klezmer album came in the mail. The zine reviews are my favorite of course. Food even reviews Slingshot, which just proves that he has good taste.
An excerpt from my upcoming magnum Copus about my dead cat
8 pages – $6.66 instagram.com/enoladismay
Enola Dismay is famous in these parts, a former Slingshot alum. She keeps a lower profile than she used to. Her website enoladismay.com is gone, her LiveJournal abandoned, WordPress unfinished, and her Etsy store closed. Back issues of her old zine, No Gods No Mattress are unobtanium. She is a rare animal.
She sent all three issues of I Wish they’d Fix the Wires, spanning 2022 – 2023 and this 2025 gem. The zine is exactly what it says on the tin — an ode from a young lady to her adorable floof, Abigail, complete with color pictures. Her artwork, as usual, is amazing. But sincere condolences Enola D. If we were neighbors I’d make you something sugary. Baked goods solve a surprising number of problems in life.
Rite or Riot? #46
16 pages – donation Naomistine28@gmail.com
It’s not accurate to say that Naomi is back. There should be more menace to it: Naomi is unrelenting! Naomi never went away, she has written 31 issues since I first read issue 15 in the Fall of 2022. The pace seems unsustainable but I now fear she may never stop. To the people of the future — beware.
This issue opens with an interview with her cousin Joan Stine, a formally trained pianist and Mozart fan. I read a white paper once that said Mozart demonstrated depressive episodes consistent with DSM-IV classification. Beware the music of mad men. Beside that is an interview with Lee Hoffman, her husband’s barber. She never says so but I think he’s the singer of the band Elegant Trash. Beware of barbers and anyone else who carries a straight razor.
That article is followed by music, film and zine reviews. As a proud owner of the Absolutely Zippo: A Fanzine Anthology I must say the high point is her review of the April 2025 issue. I’ll quote the conclusion. “Eggplant pulls out the big guns-his unwavering knack for telling a story that usually ends with an anecdote for community, peace, solidarity, humor and/or love.” May it never waver, but beware of men with unwavering knacks.
I Love The Sun
8 pages – instagram.com/oleandrsstudio
Anna Gecko sent us an envelope of Oleandr Studio zines made from an old issue of the Lansing City Pulse. It included a Post Card Journal from her mom, SB, about a Munich trip, and two of gecko’s zines: Am I Gender Fluid? and the aforementioned 2025 I Love The Sun. The latter of these is just a mini zine about the sun, purely about solar phenomena: sun spots, magnetic fields, solar flares, the solar cycle and the Carrington event. (Is anyone else hoping for a second Carrington event?)
Her Am I Gender Fluid? Zine is adorable, color copied but the hand colored original is what shines through. She explains the gender fluid flag stripes, gender dysphoria, pronoun options, and encourages people to be safe and to try things out. It’s all warm fuzzies.
Her mother SB’s zine is mostly about a short visit to the Munich Oktoberfest event. There she drank ale and ate sausages and dumplings. She celebrates the joys of German mass transit. It’s like one of the lighter reflective moments in a Hemingway novel. I’ve been to an Oktoberfest. Like any large gathering of tourists, my advice is to leave before people start vomiting in the bushes.
The World After Amazon
231 pages / $15 or free pdf afteramazon.world
I have on occasion met people who can predict the future. The future is bleak and people who live in the dystopian present know all about the dystopian future. Some of the Authors in the Heinemann African writers series, Chronic and Chimurenga Magazine from South Africa, The Book of Gaza collection, works of Samizdat…the list goes on. These are works which will blow your hair back.
But there is another kind of hell out there. Amazon workers toil under exploitative management, and a level of pervasive surveillance which does not end in the parking lot. Gamified tech manipulates workers to incentivize productivity. Amazon pays consultants millions to bust unions while underpaying workers. What’s more dystopian than peeing in a bottle while Jeff Bezos naps on his mega-yacht and replaces employees with robots?
I’m a big fan of post-apocalyptic sci-fi. I have read thousands of pages from Philip K. Dick, Ursula K. Le Guin, William Gibson, and Ray Bradbury. If you’re a sci-fi fan you already know those names. In The World After Amazon we have 13 works by largely unknown writers, each in some way inspired by their experiences working for the big box apocalypse. But this book is full of fresh voices from that special kind of fresh hell. From the post-apocalyptic now they write about a post-apocalyptic future: social change and upheaval, the fall of Amazon, the collapse of capitalism, and their dreams of a better world.
Ozarks Agrarian News
$25 per year / 8 issues ozarksagrarian@protonmail.com
You want the longest growing season possible, but you also want to avoid a late frost. In late April I planted asparagus, rhubarb, potatoes, peas, spinach, lettuce bok choi, carrots and broccoli. It sounds like a lot but it’s just a kitchen garden, nothing like what all the hands accomplish together at Oran Mor, the home of Ozarks Agrarian News. OAN is one of those resources I might consult trying to guess why my tomatoes get blossom end rot. It’s better than the Farmers Almanac, because it’s written by actual farmers.
I like that OAN is clearly assembled by paste-up. Beside the sections which were clearly done in a word processing program, there are pasted sections with fonts from different typewriters (at least 3), and hand-written segments which come from different hands. You can really tell that there is a community behind this zine.
When I open OAN, I’m greeted by reminders of how hyper-local it truly is. There’s a notice that someone is building a community garden, there’s a potluck at Flotsam Farm, and Crankie Fest at the Shoe Tree Listening Room, there’s also a notice of who you can call if you have a bee swarm you need removed. On another page is an admonishment to eat flowers, the non-poisonous ones of course. These are the kind of people who will survive the zombie apocalypse.
Hold That Line!
$15 – 48 pages currenteditions.bigcartel.com
Brought to you by the same fine folks that brought us the zine “A Brief and Inconclusive History of Protests on San Francisco’s Market Street” last year. Likewise, Hold that Line is also a lovely riso zine but instead of documenting protests it reprints illustrations from The Waterfront Worker, a 1930s San Francisco newspaper published by and for longshore workers.
I am reminded of an interview R. Crumb did on NPR where he talked about his influences. He said “…I took on this older ’30s, ’40s kind of thing. And I started looking more closely at these kind of Brand X, third-rate, comics from the forties that were drawn in that style by these artists that never achieved renown even among comics people. They were third-rate artists, this working class proletarian, funky, crude, vulgar – these comics were very vulgar and violent…”
Crumb was right. They are violent. The drawings are of police harassment, bosses, jail cells and cops shooting down strikers, just as he said, They are crude and amateurish; fine artists generally didn’t work the docks. So these drawings came from calloused working hands, and they look like it. But they thereby convey an authenticity you can’t get from Edward Hooper. Even if he were to be counted among your allies.
Cavity – The Flyers
instagram.com/hook_or_crook_unlimited/
$35 – 78 pages
You know the old idiom “You had to be there”; well I was there, and like many other things from 30 years ago I don’t remember it very well. As Dan Cavity writes in the intro “Flipping through them, I was flooded with memories —some crystal clear, others more blurry…”
Except for an introductory essay, the rest of the zine is just flyers, and it’s enormous, the 8.5 x 11 pages reproduce the original 1990s flyers at 1:1 scale. The style is somewhat variable but there are many which feel familiar: scissors, Xacto-knife, glue stick, sharpie—the Kinko’s graphic design kit. (Even if Kinkos doesn’t exist anymore.)
The flyers aren’t in chronological order, they’re in Gorostiaga order, a sequence that only makes sense to Dan who published this zine. There are some band names here you’d like like Converge, High on Fire, Hot Water Music, and Avail… but also several with a rad Bay area band, Kreamy ‘lectric Santa. The internet has everything now and we can revisit these moments whether we remember them or not.
The Scumrag #3
$2.50 – 8 pages scumbagpress.co.uk
I received a black envelope in the mail. It was vaguely ominous. This is one of the few zines I’ve received which arrived perfumed. I can’t place the scent but it’s distinctly on the front cover. I don’t know if that’s for everyone, like letters from the Zodiac Killer, or if it’s special for me. Sometimes you don’t want to know.
Scumbag is a D.I.Y. small press in Hastings, East Sussex, England run by the poet Martin Appleby. The about section of their website ends with “NAZI PUNKS FUCK OFF!” which says it all. Sometimes it is more obvious than others that we are descended from peasants and not lords.
Within you will find poetry, prose and even an interview with the publisher of the Zine “Spinners” which honestly also sounds great. A book review opens with the line “My motto is “read books that fuck you up.” I shouted at every page. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! I want to have a sit down in Brighton and thank Appleby for putting this together.