winter 2024
Issue No. 20
Dear Readers,
This issue marks the tenth anniversary of the founding of the Stonecoast Review, now firmly established among student-led literary magazines. Issue #20 of the Review continues our legacy of discovering and encouraging new and diverse voices.
Discovery and self-discovery have also emerged as prominent themes in this issue’s contributions, although characters’ epiphanies were not always met with enthusiasm. Sydney Lea’s “Giudizio Dolce” depicts the chastened narrator when his narrow, perhaps unjustified, view of a classmate from the past is revealed. While monitoring the online dating activity of “The Man in the Window Seat,” Robert Granader’s narrator is startled into wakefulness about the state of his own marriage.
Self-discovery is celebrated in Carla Sarett’s “Self-Portrait as Aging Tortoise,” a condition she never envisioned, but which has its advantages. The young character in Sarah Jackson’s “Coherence” struggles with their gender identity but is surprised and comforted by their uncle’s model of fluidity for physical substances and time. Danielle Frimer’s play, “a marriage is a story we keep telling,” engages a same-sex couple in a conversational journey, one that initially causes them to recoil against traditional wedding rituals, but concludes with discovering marriage’s special meaning for them.
And the narrator in Nuala O’Connor’s “Smoke in a Jar” finally understands her neurodivergent mind after decades of mystifying herself and others with its workings.
Thank you for reading the Stonecoast Review; enjoy the discoveries you make inside.
Sincerely,
Mary White
Editor-in-Chief
Giudizio Dolce
This guy from the Netherlands grated on me and on all our doctoral peers whenever, with his heavily accented but perfect English, he held forth in our European Literature class.
Things I Wanted to Say are Locked Behind the Uvula
So when I didn’t say the things I wanted to say, I had hoped you would know. Do you remember? You’ll shake your head. We’ve become all too predictable.
Silent Night
I know what a church pew feels like; to sit on, to touch, to be watched by. I know that even the most comfortable of pews can feel cold. Just because it’s been a while, just because the church has done renovations and now these seats are cushioned, doesn’t mean I don’t know; it doesn’t mean I don’t remember.
Smoke Out of the Jar
In my childhood home, difficult things were stored like smoke in a tight- lidded jar. Hurts, ills, and problems were a visible miasma through the glass, but they would sit in there, dense and palpable, not to be disturbed.