It's with genuine sadness that I've recently learned of the threat to the Alaska Quarterly Review's continued publication. My first published story appeared in AQR, a piece called "Gaining Ground" that went on to be shortlisted for a Pushcart Prize and to appear in my collection, "If I loved you, I would tell you this,"? a book shortlisted for the Frank O'Connor Short Story Prize. It's a story that more than a decade later, remains one of my own favorites among my work.
I well remember the day that acceptance came through, via email -- an email I stared at for at least a full minute before I moved a muscle. Not only an acceptance but an acceptance from AQR! When I told the director of the graduate school I was soon to enter, he said exactly that: "Not just an acceptance, but an acceptance from a top-tier publication!"
I'd sent the story to AQR because of its reputation for quality and its claim to publish both established and new voices. It's a journal to which I continue to send my most promising students and friends, knowing from my own experience that they will take a chance with unknowns.
It's hard to convey to those outside this profession how like a death of sorts it is when such a voice is silenced. These publications are our companions as they evolve, conducting ongoing relationships with us and with our colleagues, with writers we admire. They breathe -- if not actually, then at least in the metaphorical sense that they keep our field and practice alive, breathing new life into the pursuit with every new issue.
I am no enemy of all that the Internet has brought to writing, the openness and the sense that everyone who cares to can share their writing now; but I am still a defender of those venerable publications that while by no means old-fashioned, connect us to our lineage as writers, while also introducing us to what is new. It is saddening beyond expression to think of losing AQR with its unique blend of tradition and innovation, quality and risk-taking. It is a special friend of mine, but it is a friend to all writers, so needed as to feel necessary.
And until I hear the worst, I will continue to hope that rumors of its possible death have been greatly exaggerated. To think otherwise is simply unacceptable.
Robin Black is the author of the short story collection, "If I loved you, I would tell you this," and the recently published novel "Life Drawing."
The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com.