The production of Borbonesa is perhaps more impressive than the writing, though the writing is competent, and of the abstract or surrealist variety. I unfold it to discover that it’s actually a single sheet of mylar, sliced and folded so as to create eight little pages. Each page is filled with minuscule black 6-pt type and diagrams, both of which are so tiny they’re hard to understand. Since the mylar is see-through, I find myself holding it up the computer monitor in order to read the “exemplary formula” for making a sandwich, an abbreviated history of the human diet and the tale of Kenny’s bad teeth. The publication comes encased in a resealable plastic baggie, and accompanied by another little baggie filled with mixed seeds and what look like three temporary tattoos, but are really squares of edible sweet rice paper with pie slices stamped onto them. When I picked one up and felt its tactile wafer-like thickness, I instinctively put it in my mouth. Oops, I ate one! I can’t believe actually I ate one – in this era of Anthrax-filled mail being sent to the media – and I have absolutely no idea who cut these up and stamped them and sealed them in a little baggie. Oh no. If I die, don’t buy this zine! And no, the mylar zine itself is not edible. I tried it. (Emily Pohl-Weary)