Issue 125 has our hearts in its leaves

This is the one-hundred-twenty-fifth issue of the magazine Eirik Gumeny and Monica Rodriguez founded in 2009, and their coffee rings and home-fry fingerprints linger on every page like indelible diner marginalia. Jersey Devil Press was created as a haunted hotel for misfit stories and castaway poop jokes, and as successive caretakers (our production editor Sam Snoek-Brown, my predecessor Mike Sweeney, and me) have moved into the gloriously strange edifice they built, we’ve done our best to keep it that way. 

starry sky with a hint of a familiar force ghost

As some of you may already know, Eirik died on July 8 from complications related to cystic fibrosis. And even that didn’t stop him from being awesome—as a recipient of upcycled lungs himself, he chose to be an organ donor with a full understanding of what a difference it would make to a handful of people he would never meet. So at least some material parts of him are still out there knocking around in the world. And we have his words, which are immortal. Eirik’s stories and essays showcase his exceptional talent for both broad and subtle comedy, but they also have a tendency to deal roundhouse kicks straight to the feelings when you least expect it. If you haven’t read his stuff, you have been missing out and should treat yourself as soon as possible. 

As a way of channeling a little of the grief of losing my friend into something meaningful, here are some specific things I believe Eirik would have enjoyed about this issue:

Sam’s cover art, which combines his own night sky photograph with a nod to Eirik as he might appear in a galaxy far, far away . . .

The humorously painful possibilities of the second line in Azzam Alkadhi’s “Grace.”

The irreverently casual voice of Betsy Streeter’s “Genesis 1 Chapter 1 H1C1.”

The resonance of the sound and movement in John Repp’s haiku.

The wonderfully absurd (yet profound) premise of Merri Andrew’s “On the Job at IBIS.”

The generous use of expressive adverbs in Toni Artuso’s “Along the Banks of the Charles River.”

The presence of Godzilla and Michael Crichton in Rob Tyler’s “Retroscopy,” as well as the way it evokes wistful longing without lapsing into sentimentality.

I miss you, Eirik. Wherever you are now, I hope you have a great view of the cosmos.

This time 124 isn’t spiteful, just full of mischief!

regular sized person and extremely large white goat study one another

As the steel-wool clouds squeeze gallon after gallon of dishwater-warm water over everything, we are glad to be typing this from our nice dry cave with a mug of ginger beer, a bowl of soft pretzels, and some cheerful strings of fairy lights. With haiku from Randy Brooks and stories from Peter Hoppock, Robert Tyler, and Allen Seward, and amazing cover art from Gimal Udara, issue one hundred twenty-four is full of quiet wonders and the sorts of small surprises that jolt us fully awake for a moment, like literary espresso shots.

Absorb it online or slather on the .pdf.

Put your tentacles together for the January issue!

A hanging incandescent light bulb holds a cozy winter snowglobe scene with a cabin and a pine tree

Well, it’s 2024 now, which sounds suspiciously made-up and futuristic, but we’ll leave the calendar verification to the goblin particle astrologicians and focus instead on the dramatic unveiling of our one hundred twenty-third issue, which is stuffed with enough delectably weird stories and poems to sustain you through the cold, cold months ahead. Once you’ve bundled up and settled in with fiction from Jimmy Huff, flash from Jon Doughboy and Lydia Storm, poetry from Peter Dellolio and Patrick Meeds, and haiku from Nicholas Klacsanzky, you won’t even hear those unhinged winter winds twistering through the pines outside your cave. And be sure to visit the cosy cover art from Nini Kvaratskhelia.

Hoot it on the website or holler at the .pdf.