Over 15,000 Zine Reviews & Growing!
What makes Beaton’s book so powerful and unique is her close watch on the day-to-day life of oil sands work. A glimpse into what a lunchroom looks like, assigned housing, a party, a ride in a truck with a co-worker you trust and a ride with one you don’t.
Troll tells the story of what happens when one never returns from those youthful spelunking expeditions, but instead chooses to live down in the cave with all the bats, snakes and guano.
Emily Zhou’s stories have a nice edge to them. At their best, they’re tender and have a nice undercurrent of emotion. There’s a resonance in her 20-something protagonists fumbling around, learning the beats and trying to make a go of it.
This speculative novel provides a window into a fictional New York’s BDSM subculture in an apocalyptic world. Where X shines is in its unique observations.
Rivas’s text — which remix actual Nextdoor posts into fictional dialogues — are both hilarious and alarming. Conversational and matter-of-fact, they reveal obsessions with securing their property, scrutinizing minor disturbances, and calling the police.
Amusing as it is honest, Artist achieves what few can in creating a cultural product about artists that doesn’t fall prey to the temptation to navel gaze or air sour grapes.
J. E. Stintzi’s emulates our distracted and desensitized present with a distant narrative voice, a rash of characters and 232 micro-chapters that rapidly switch between storylines.
Nick Thran’s book-fueled memoir revolves around Thran’s move from New York City to Fredericton, New Brunswick — in itself a shocking enough contrast that is layered on top of a change in lifestyle (home-ownership) and career (moving to full-time childcare).
An earnest and unfiltered travelogue of the early 2010s, Travis Egedy parses half-thoughts about isolation, extinction, loss and art among a frenzied scene.
In tracing how homebrewed filth developed into the corporatized sex trade of recent years, Samantha Cole does a valuable service. Despite its focus on the past three decades, the book feels almost as much a work of archaeology as pop history.
Over-educated and nominally leftist in his beliefs, Hugh Dalgarno waits around for someone to buy a picture frame from him. It’s a book that’s about nothing, but it’s also a book that is stuffed with ideas and opinions.
If prison labour did not exist, it would have been invented by a philosopher playing with employment as a concept: Imagine there were a group of workers who were not permitted to leave a compound for months or even years at a time