
“Maybe the future isn’t something to be afraid of, but just to be figured out.”
From the Editor:
This issue is the 57th volume of our literary magazine, but only the fifth edition of Nova itself, after our 2022 relaunch. Usually, anniversaries are a reminder to slow down, take stock, and reflect on what has come before, but we’ve been in such a rush to get where we’re going that I didn’t realize this was our anniversary issue until I sat down to write this letter. Everything is speed, deadlines, applications, an unending series of computer screens, motion, motion, motion, computer generated summary, dead battery.
In Min Kamp 1, in a trademark digression that swells from diaristic observation to pointed aphorism, Knausgaard asks “why should [we] live in a world without feeling its weight?” He is somewhat sardonic– he’s annoyed that new suitcases have wheels rather than handles– and yet completely sincere. There’s something to be said for friction: the grit of textured pages between your thumb and forefinger, the little heaviness of a magazine in your bag– the way it forces you to consider what you’re thinking and doing.
Every issue of Nova is a continued argument for the value of friction. We review more than a thousand submitted pieces, mock up dozens of covers, write tens of drafts of notes, biographies, colophons. Each issue takes more than two thousand man hours for our editors and designers to complete. We could publish everything we receive and push it onto a website, but we don’t. Isn’t this more worthwhile? Take the wheels off and carry it. Likewise, the experience of reading is the product of friction: sit down for the moment with the magazine, put your phone aside, and ignore the world for half an hour. Read. Turn the page.
Speaking of: in bookmaking, pages are not called pages, but leaves. Each sheet of paper is a leaf; each leaf has two numbered pages. Flipping through volume 57, you might notice a sort of visual pun at work: leaves lay upon leaves upon leaves. What’s more, throughout the pages, all manner of birds and bugs and critters abound. Atop the naturalistic photos are raw pixels, illustrator boxes, and drawings, all reminders of the constructed nature of the magazine, a visual friction that slows the eye and forces you to parse what you’re seeing. Take your time.
Finally, this is the fourth issue of Nova I’ve edited– one for each year of my undergraduate degree. It has been the absolute joy of my time at this university to put out this little magazine. I hope you like it as much as I do.This tension, between our past and future, informs every aspect of our work. As the pieces featured here sho, art is not only for the young. It is a way of living.
Zachary Jenkins – Editor-in-Chief
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Nova Literary-Arts Magazine
9201 University City Blvd.
Charlotte, NC 28223
Phone: 1-704-687-7129
Email: Novamagazine@charlotte.edu