Dear Cargo Literary Readers,
As we move through the passage of winter, many of us shift towards adventure, pivot to new climates, and make use of our seasoned backpacks. For a long time, that was me.
Middle age, however, has brought with it new gifts. One of them has been the stability of a home, children, and work that keeps me close to my community. I connect now to a thriving writers’ guild, conduct the creative projects I dreamt up in summer, and inhale the the magic of a long and flourishing winter book list. In this way, I look forward to reading the wild and gregarious submissions that come in to Cargo each month.
As usual in our issues, themes emerge. For this episode, we look at light and dark, or two sides of ourselves. The brightness of summer still warm in our hearts, we strap on the snowshoes and head into the storm.
In nonfiction, we continue to bring you strong female leads. In The Womb of the World, Amanda Summer asks, “Where are women supposed to go to become goddesses?” and Thatcher Carter beats travel tension in Checkpoint. In Bleak Midwinter, Dustin Solberg makes a winter adventure worthwhile.
Kimberly White sees mountain eyes the poetry of Mountain Pages, Marjory Woodfield wanders through frankincense and myrrh in Thumairi Street, and Sandra Kolankiewicz combs through the secrets of the mantle in, For Sale.
In art, we offer you a rich visual context. In photography, Dreaming of a New Earth by Fabrice Poussin brings new perspectives and in Hungry Eyes by Sherri Harvey, we continue the search for connectivity. Playfulness and ‘the beauty of the world’ dominate the art of Michael Paul in Illustrations, and Willy Vecchiato offers us the opposite —a landscape of shadows in Dark Mirrors.
Finally, in Review, we have Patricia Beiger musing over her two readings of The Truce, by Mario Benedetti and with a new translation by Harry Morales.
When i had lunch with my dear friend and nonfiction editor Kathy Large yesterday, she reminded me of Margaret Atwood’s poem, “The Moment”. It speaks to the moment when the ground shakes, dormancy awakes, and we must find ourselves anew.