editors' note

Popeye’s “I am what I am” sounds simplistic. But at a certain point, and with respect to taste, we are what we are, we like what we like. We’re two editors of one litmag, and the work we publish reflects our tastes—and while our tastes are pretty close, we’ll still argue about a piece for an hour and make no decision until we’re both behind it. We like low-to-the-ground. We like less-is-more. And, as we’ve written in several of these notes, we go for the writers who take tangential routes to J’s theme. Since most stories and poems show conflict and since most conflicts have moral implications, the justice banner covers a lot.

 

In this issue we feature what we admire, each piece’s aesthetic (at least tangentially!) aligned with our own. But there are fantastical moments in several pieces that don’t fit our usual-suspect tastes. In one story, a dog turns into a dragon-like creature and forces a young woman to reassess her dreams. In another, an old teapot grants wishes to a trio of friends with devastating consequences. These fantastic turns inform this issue where dreams of what could be or might have been occur—and fantasy is built on hypotheticals. An awkward man’s sexual fantasies drive him to meet a convict getting out of jail. A best-friend break-up leads to a game of pretend romance. A son believes his father can shoot the moon—until he doesn’t. Writing is all pretend. We shape and mold reality to a design that isn’t exactly real. In this spring’s issue, what’s more-than-real seems possible; and when the seems is big enough, a piece can move toward the fantastic. As editors, our tastes run to Hamlet’s take on seems: “Seems, madam? Nay, it is. I know not seems.” But in this issue, it seems we’ve expanded our tastes after all.

​

Adam Berlin, Jeffrey Heiman

New York City

May 2025