Editor's Introduction

Abstract

Editor’s Introduction Jennifer Popa My roommate believes that English majors are self-appointed metaphiles and grammar-spouting introverts who scoff at the world, clothed in black berets and turtlenecks. While stereotypes frequently have some basis in reality, I don't think of English majors as bookish intellectuals who woo people with their sesquipedalian nature (for non-English majors, this refers to our bent for using long words) or notoriously precise conversational style that can only be described as pedantic. Instead, I think of the new Red Cedar Review (RCR) staff. This fall, at the eleventh hour, I was asked to take over as managing editor. The previous staff all graduated last spring, and attempts to rally replacements over the summer proved fruitless. I struggled with the possibility that the next issue might never materialize because the pile of manuscripts had grown to fire-hazard proportions, and so I circulated a frantic plea for help among MSU English students. To my great relief, a brave band of volunteers rallied to comprise a new staff. Now I can fondly look back at fall weekends spent in the depths of Morrill Hall, attempting en masse to set new world records for safe caffeine-and-sugar consumption. At a time when the journal could have been abandoned, an earnest group of local English geeks assembled to wade through the never-ending stacks of manuscripts. With caffeine surging through our veins, we performed dramatic readings; guiltily shared a fondness for Harry Potter as though it was our own dirty little secret; questioned whether or not Morrill Hall was, in fact, sinking, threatening to crush us all; and attempted to answer the ever-plaguing question, "Is an MFA in Creative Writing really anything more than an expensive trip to the local coffee shop?" While I sat on a ratty plaid couch descended from the age of Heroes, I looked around at my reading companions. It was truly a sight to see them generously offer their time, eager to rescue a journal in need. While we weren't splitting atoms, curing cancer, or solving the mysteries of the universe, our efforts yielded a force to be reckoned with because we refused to let the publication die. There were still times when I questioned whether or not this journal would ever make it to print. It has been a struggle, but with great assistance from other students and former staff members (thank you, [End Page 1] Laura Tisdel), and some much-needed cheerleading from our faculty advisor, [you'll have to imagine that] we have managed a great feat. So, when I think of the pretentious English-major stereotype now, the image is always replaced by one of this very special community so wholly committed to our literary tradition. This group of devoted students is far from the exception, however. Dedication is not unique to this latest group of individuals—it's a quality characteristic of previous RCR staff members, also unwilling to allow a journal to perish. Though I don't know them personally, they are present in our office to this day, ghosts of another time and place with whom we share a commonality. We can feel their presence in an office that bears their sketches on the ceiling, their carvings of a Unabomber/Christ-like figure on the desk, and yellowing comics and aged hate mail adorning the walls. In a time of budget cuts and overwhelming apathy, it pleases me that this little publication of ours has survived. I believe that RCR's longevity is assured because there just has to be a certain vitality inherent in a journal that, on a number of occasions, could have been abandoned entirely. I am enormously proud to be a part of the 40th issue, and I and humbled by the unflinching dedication of my staff. Through the challenges, it has been a true pleasure to piece together this collection. In this issue you will find pieces that range from a treatise on the significance of attaining the perfect bruise to an essay on the innermost thoughts of a Head Color Namographer. There are local finds cultivated from within our East Lansing community, pieces from across...