Have you ever wondered why we’re called Superstition Review? Well, let me tell you the story!
For those of you who don’t know, SR is housed at Arizona State University (students play a big role in the curation of each issue). ASU has four campuses in the metro Phoenix area and SR is housed on the Polytechnic campus in Mesa. From the Polytechnic (or Poly, as we call it) campus, there is a wonderful view of the Superstition Mountains. Not only are these mountains stunning in and of themselves – and therefore worthy as a namesake – our founding editor, Patricia Colleen Murphy, also has a personal connection to these mountains. Since the mountains are beautifully showcased on the Poly campus and they hold a special place in Trish’s heart, the name Superstition Review was a natural choice.
Do you have other questions about SR? Let us know in the comments!
Last weekend, I lived a microcosm of the Great American Journey, sitting in the passenger seat of a car as it sped through the vast desert, cruising along the highways. On such a drive, the mind begins to wander and ramble; actual turns and direction-seeking are infrequent. You find yourself in tune with the clear repetition of lines on the road; yellow black curves and dashes. There are hours to just watch the road and saguaros pass by, and in that trek things begin to fall into place.
I thought it was going to be a brief vacation, a break away from all of this stress and academia. Yet, in the midst of this desert, a familiar landmark filled my horizon.
The Superstition Mountain Range loomed in the distance.
Well, I thought to myself, it’s watching over me. I can zoom throughout any desert, across any roads and travel forever, but I’ll never be able to escape myself. My duties, my works and so forth, will always be a part of me. The rest of the weekend was spent in Eden, and was likewise beautiful.
And now we find ourselves all facing down the inescapable beauty of those mountains.
Our release date is urgent and soon. Our last reading was last night, featuring undergraduate creative writing students and a beautiful Fiesta Veggie Strata featuring produce from our allies, the Poly Harvest CSA.
Likewise, you might see on the side of this page that our Blogroll has been updated with links to other journals. The time for change and release is now. We are ready for you, readers. Are you ready for Superstition Review?
As I walk along the streets of Arizona, I note a few things; the vast blue skies, the reaching prickly cacti, the moody heat, and the ever-present embrace of the mountains. And though I have travelled the world, more than anything, it is these mountains I find that I can never forget. But as a result of their eternal consistency, I tend to forget that other people don’t have the mountains over their shoulder, at their beck and call, the way life in in the Valley makes you think.
As a younger, more innocent student a few years back, I took a study abroad trip to Spain with the University. My favorite city in the world, as a result, is Granada, home of La Alhambra, gypsies, narrow winding streets and copious historical cathedrals. Fantastic as it was to be swept off my feet quite literally by an exuberant gypsy for a round of impromptu flamenco, what expanded my mind most about that outing was the long bus ride home.
Our motley crew of ASU students was joined by a class from New York on the Granada leg of the trip. On the ride home, we’d began to mingle and discuss our new shared experiences. A young blond man next to me sat gazing thoughtfully out the window. I asked if he was okay…if anything was preoccupying him.
“Nothing…I’m just looking at the mountains…”
“Oh,” I said, and glanced out the windows. And then I noticed, a stark expanse of desert and mountains. It suddenly hit me, on the other side of the world, “It looks like home.”
“We don’t have ’em in New York. I’ve never seen so many before.”
And I can’t help but be surrounded by the mountains here, in the desert of Spain, on Tempe Campus, in the banner for this Superstition Review (of the Superstition Mountain range), and I realize how lucky and rare my life has been to be able to call the Valley home.
We invite you to join us for a while; keep reading, keep submitting, and tell us about your home.