MASTHEAD

Joe Sacksteder

Editor-in-Chief

 

Readers:

Ruth Bardenstein

Sean Kilpatrick

Sarah Smarch

Robert Stevens

 

Carla Harryman

Faculty Editor

 

Mark Dickson

Web development consultation/support

Metaphor from the Editor

The beach is a stable genre. People enjoy bringing their stable genres to the beach, be it Patterson or Grisham or what have you. The sand bakes in the sun, the beach-goers bake in the sun. They read their novels. Once in a while a gust rearranges the sand and Grisham writes a book about football instead of lawyers. But the beach soon settles.

The ocean seems to be a mighty force, but little happens on the surface when you're stuck in the middle of the Pacific. The ocean, too, is a relatively stable genre. Deep and expansive, but you can't drink it and you'll die if marooned for too long.

But that band between beach and ocean... that zone of transition where waves crash, the tides daily reinvent, and surfers write words instantly erased and/or are devoured by submerged beasts. Here the ocean polishes stones and vomits shells. Vomits and polishes Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster. Nothing is stable.