McSweeney's Quarterly Concern

I came across this book in the library while looking for something else; dontcha love it when that happens? I think it was the cover design that caught my eye: a nice cloth binding with a two-color landscape with horses by Leif Parsons. I'm looking at McSweeney's 15 (2004), published by McSweeney's Quarterly Concern, San Francisco, California, and it's unusual in every way. Check out the copyright page:

All rights are had by those who have them, and not us. We are writing this copyright page from Albuquuerque, New Mexico, on November 2, because we were hoping to contribute some manpower to this state, which was seen as winnable by the good guys in this terrifying and also extremely terrifying and did we mention completely fucking terrifying election.

It goes on like that for a full page, telling a story about real people - the staff of 8266 Valencia - who, among other things, put together a collection of short fiction every once in a while, teach writing classes, and, I'm guessing, do a little writing themselves.

And indeed now, at 3 a.m., in this Albuquerque as the networks continue to draw maps and await concessions, the night is black and the air ever-colder. The only upshot is that fairly soon, and at least for a whort while, things will be quiet. We will be able to take a breath, for a moment, and brace ourselves for the next beheading.

There are 20 stories in this book, half of them translated from Icelandic. Apparently just about everyone in Iceland is a writer, and they have this wonderful tradition of contemporary fiction as well as the old heroic sagas. Some of them, such as "Uninvited," are a little disturbing in a well-meaning way, and others, such as "Nerve City," are just plain hilarious.

This is a book to hold in your hands and take your time reading. The paper is a heavy, high-quality, creamy color and texture. A fine line boxes every page of text, and under the title of each new piece is a small illustration, either engravings carved on stones from the eighth to eleventh century, or runes carved on barrel lids, cheese blocks, and magician's handbooks.