Issue #83

Greetings, readers! I hope this letter finds you well.

Much has happened since issue 82 (June 2026). Summer found most of us, at some point or another, under a multi-day heat dome. Or torrential rains. Or in the path of devastating tornadoes. Or out of control wildfires. I just can’t buy into the theory that climate change isn’t real.

We’re excited to bring you striking artwork and beautiful writing in this issue of Mud Season Review. Mahnoor Shujrah’s gouache on canvas painting “Muse” accompanies our fiction selection “Check-out Girl” by Coralie Loon; the nonfiction selection “The Unseen” by Stephen Haines, is paired with Tammy Pieterson’s untitled photography and digital image; Sarah Weir’s oil on canvas “The Show Must Go On” accompanies Stacy Miller’s “Four Poems on Momming,” our poetry portfolio selection. Our featured artist for this issue is Sara Maino. Sara uses a variety of materials to create her art, including charcoal, limestone grind crystals, flowers and other natural materials in addition to oil paints, acrylics, and watercolor pencils.

Summer in Iowa means the Downtown Farmers’ Market in Des Moines (named one of the top 5 best farmers’ markets in the U.S.), the award-winning Des Moines Arts Festival, Hinterland (the music festival draws A-list artists and groups with weekend passes selling out in 10 minutes), and the crown jewel, the Iowa State Fair. This year, the fair broke all attendance records with over 1,000,000 attendees. Hollywood likes the Iowa State Fair, having made three movies based on it, and no one skips the Butter Cow. If you’re not familiar with the Butter Cow, you’re missing something. You would also have missed the butter Star Trek starship Enterprise, the butter Snow White and Seven dwarfs, the butter Harry Potter and friends, and the butter rendition of American Gothic. Another attraction is that you can get just about anything on a stick, including fried butter and margaritas (not at the same time).

The U.S.A., the experiment in democracy, turned 250 years old in spite of the efforts to dismantle it. It was hard to enjoy this milestone when the Reflecting Pool is fenced off and algae infested, the South Lawn is utterly destroyed by a cage-fighting ring, the East Wing of the White House demolished, Jackie Kennedy’s beloved rose garden paved over, and the John F. Kennedy Center defaced. This year was also the 25th anniversary of the September 11, 2001, attacks on the United States which killed nearly 3000 people. If you were born after 2001, you will only see it in pictures and videos. But anyone else will tell you where they were and what they were doing when they first heard the news. I remember watching the South Tower fall real time and turning to a friend saying, “Did that building just fall down? Really?” We touch base every year on September 11, no matter where we are and what we’re doing. My husband was in the Middle East for work, and I didn’t know where he was for two days. He made it to, and was stranded in, Singapore, and finally made it home. One of the most haunting and disturbing photographs from that day is the Falling Man. If you haven’t seen it or the series of photographs, be prepared: the images will stay with you long after you’ve looked away. In 2002, we were on vacation in Sicily. When people at the resort discovered we were Americans, they offered many condolences. Clearly this event was felt by more than those of us in the U.S. that day.

This is the last issue for our long-time Nonfiction Editor Andrew Miller. He’s moving on to another opportunity, and we will miss his dedication to MSR. I will miss him keeping me in line when I occasionally (well, maybe more than occasionally) miss an email that needs to be answered or take too long to get through the final submissions. Andrew also sends me articles about current trends in publishing and writing, and I have learned much from him. I am sorry to see him go but am excited for him as he takes on another role. Our Assistant Nonfiction Editor, Lenore Weiss, steps into the Editor role. She and Andrew have worked together for years, so it will be a smooth transition. I’m looking forward to working more closely with Lenore.

Finally, I am a proud card-carrying member of the British Library. I experienced the Reading Room and the British Museum in graduate school when I spent a month in London. I’m taking a six-week online course titled “Discovering Medieval Manuscripts.” At 12:30 p.m. the other attendees are enjoying their lunch, and I am dragging my sorry self to my desk at 6:30 a.m. The class is fascinating, though, and the best discussion so far has been around this translated passage:

A man who knows not how to write may think this is no mean feat. But only try to do it yourself and you will learn how arduous is the writer’s task. It dims your eyes, makes your back ache and knots your chest and belly together – it is a terrible ordeal for the whole body. So, gentle reader, turn these pages carefully and keep your finger far from the text. For just as hail plays havoc with the fruits of spring, so a careless reader is a bane to books and writing.

~Silos Apocalypse Add MS 11695, f. 278r, begun in 1091 by
Munnio and Dominicus, completed under Abbot Johannes on
1st July 1109

Sounds about right, doesn’t it?

All the best,

Suzanne Guess, MFA
Editor in Chief
Mud Season Review