The Weight of Inheritance (Dan Intro) (11/13/2021)

The Weight of Inheritance | The Weekly Atticus

A recap of the week's writing at Atticus Review. Intro by Dan Cafaro.

My reflection hovers like a ghost across a Remington.That one line in this week’s poem, “Inheritance,” by Lorrie Ness speaks volumes about the oft times overbearing weight of whatever we inherit. If a genie granted you one wish and you chose to own and run a literary press tomorrow, what would you do with this one wild and precious life? Would you squander the opportunity?Alas, while no one has bequeathed me a pot of gold to resurrect Atticus Books, an indie publishing house that I founded in March of 2010, I am delighted to announce that I have reacquired the press and am back as founding publisher after being gone for nearly five years. What does this mean, exactly, for the Atticus House of Quirk, and specifically Atticus Review? For starters, our weekly online journal will continue to operate in the same sleek and consistent manner that you have come to appreciate with David Olimpio at the helm. David leaves Atticus a rich legacy of literature curated by our fine editors and presented eloquently and unmistakably by David. With his keen eye for design and composition, David has left an indelible mark on the aesthetics of our journal—and on the literary landscape. I now feel like an adoptive parent whose child (in her crucial developmental years) was fostered by a kind and conscientious parent who knew how to dole out just the right measurement of love and discipline. When I left, Atticus Review was but a wee, wild-eyed dove, bouncing from tree to tree in an enchanted forest. She now has found her footing as a fully developed, playful deer on a lush and linear path to the waterfall, and for that, I am indebted to David.I remain as rambunctious as the day I left. To steal another line from Raymond Carver, “I have always wanted brook trout for breakfast.” I’m a nonlinear thinker who acts on instincts and soars on emotions. I follow a north star that keeps on bending and changing shapes. The roots of Atticus remain fixed. We’re a genre-busting small press that doesn’t believe in pigeonholes. We equally respect flash, long-form fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction, mixed media, and whatever combustion of word fuel keeps your motor running.I look forward to re-engaging with our writers and readers, and I am humbled by the magnitude of this inheritance. Please help me make the most of this opportunity.Thanks for reading. We're glad you're here.DanP.S. If you’re a CNF writer who has been waiting to submit to us, please don’t delay in sending us your work. I have a particular interest in CNF and would love for you to join the family!Dan CafaroPublisher

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THIS WEEK AT ATTICUS

FICTIONDOGFLOWER, FOXGLOVEby Lesley Finn "Leaves congregate, whispering on the steps to the house. I kick through a pile. The leaves smear beneath my feet. Not leaves, but the eviscerated organ of a small mammal. Not leaves, but veined and maple red."READ ON

POETRYINHERITANCEby Lorrie Ness"I don’t remember where the rag came from originallybut my mother kept it in a stoneware crock.Soft as cobwebs, its cotton compresses in my fistwhile I dab its corner in lemon oil."READ ON

CREATIVE NONFICTIONMOTHER ROOTby Danielle Cadena Deulen"I wanted these chaotic vines to be a map that would lead to the source. Where I could unearth control of my yard. But what I found is an underground sprawl, an intricate weaving of roots so dense and deep it’s impossible to make sense of them."READ ON

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