If you haven’t had a chance to pick up the newest “John…Asparagus” I highly suggest you do so. Contained within it’s thick sturdy pages lies some of the best short form literature that I have consumed to date in this year of aught nine.

Christopher Cantwell’s short story, “Reindeer” is a taut terse examination of hope placed in a single ideal (in this case an heir) and how the manifestation of life, when that ideal fails to materialize, can tear it asunder. The dialogue brims and bubbles with subtext as we examine the stresses of a marriage and the people trapped within. The bleakness and isolation throughout are palpable. Also the title doesn’t lie there’s totally a Reindeer in there.

Nick Rallo’s “The Landfill” oscillates between being humorously ironic and heart wrenching as the protagonist (Mark) struggles with the loss of a leg. The strangeness of life is a counterpoint to the sudden continuance of it. The relationships are real, the pain heartfelt, and the prose a delight to take in. The agony of losing a limb is delicately balanced so the reader never succumbs to melanchol. This is the first of Mr. Rallo’s prose that I have read and I anxiously await more, even though there was no reindeer in his story.

Elizabeth WIlcox’s Poetry dances in its musicality upon the page though I daresay it’s best savored spoken aloud to one’s self during the quiet dark hours of the day. It its both intimate and obscuring as if gazing through a frosted window at the subject. The last few stanzas of “The Artist of the Portrait” being my favorite bits of the bunch with the subject of the poem assuring him or herself twice in short succession that they were, “not in love.” One of her poems is titled, “The Stolen Forests” which, if I guess you tried real hard, you could argue there was a reindeer in one of those forests somewhere.

Brad Conlin’s drawings are a grotesque menagerie daring the eye to glance upon them and discover their meaning. They are strange, ribald, ironic and weird, devoid of the soft edges and smooth lines that society has fed us. His portrait of the moon being one of my favorite things ever. One of his drawings has to do with an alligator. Alligators would eat a reindeer if they could.

Matt Wyatt’s photos reveal an eye for staging and composition. His photo of an abandoned rail yard a testament to the stark architecture of industry with poles and powerlines the obelisks of worship. It is a picture I long to see in person. He did not take any photos of reindeer. I’m sure he could have tracked one down or something and taken its picture but he didn’t. I’m sure this won’t be held against him.