An Ars Poetica, sort of

Quite a bit to report on over here at Fourth Genre Global HQ. After a marathon spring of reading submissions for the Michael Steinberg Memorial Essay Contest (thanks to all our readers), Pat and I sent our judge, Sonya Huber, a batch of submissions that were so good we were able to offer publication not only to the winner (Shae Burchill, for her essay “Secret Passages,” forthcoming in our Winter 2026 issue) but to nearly all the finalists as well. Our Multimedia essay prize, now in its sixth year, attracted some of the best work we've seen, and our winning essay, “Smell Map of Kyoto in October,” by Lindsay Shen, is up now for your viewing at fourthgenre.org.In addition, we helped sponsor the 2025 NonfictioNOW conference at the University of Notre Dame, and this June we celebrated the journal's silver anniversary with the publication of Fourth Genre: Twenty-Five Essays from our First Twenty-Five Years (thanks to everyone at Michigan State University Press for helping bring that anthology to life).I could tell you that Dinty W. Moore called the anthology “marvelous,” “intriguing” and “unforgettable,” and that Elena Passarello described it as “thoughtful,” “wide-ranging,” and “an excellent classroom tool in addition to a fine read,” but you can get that much from reading the anthology's jacket copy (Though, if you're familiar with literary publishing, then you know that the book blurb game can be more than a little fraught with fawning praise and the musty stank of cronyism (full disclosure: Dinty was my master's thesis advisor, and Elena Passarello, in all her vim and vigor, is a cohost of the quiz show that Pat and I have been putting on for years at the NonfictioNOW conference)).It's not that blurbs can't be trusted, but they have, for many authors and editors, come to feel perfunctory—a necessary hoop (I wanted to write “necessary evil,” but blurbs aren't evil . . . more like letters of recommendation; an industry standard that tends to mean less and less every year). Consider the news made this past January when Simon & Schuster's new head honcho, Sean Manning, announced in Publisher's Weekly that S&S would no longer require authors to seek out blurbs for their new books. Manning decried blurb-chasing as a waste of everyone's time and referred to the practice as a type of “favor trading” that “creates an incestuous and unmeritocratic literary ecosystem that often rewards connections over talent.”In the world of literary magazines, blurbs don't play much of a role. Though perhaps an editorial note like this is meant to serve a similar purpose—entice you, dear reader, to keep turning pages, to discover the secret beauties we've hidden within. Some editors use a note like this to call out their favorite contributions—the theory being, I think, that if I tell you about the deeply vulnerable memoir we've included, or about that unflinching bit of zeitgeisty reportage, or about that zany experimental lyric essay that Pat and I got into a fist fight over, then you'll skip ahead to those pieces, and then, since you've already got the issue open, you'll glance around at their literary neighbors and keep reading (gotcha!).Pat and I have never been fans of that approach—we tend to think that all the essays that make it into an issue are worth reading, and we prefer to avoid giving one essay attention over another (with contest winners being one obvious exception to this rule). That said, it's not like we don't have strong opinions about how good these essays are. And if we feel a bit sheepish about Dinty and Elena's effusive blurbs for the anthology, the thoughts they so eloquently expressed about that collection absolutely reflect how we feel about every issue we publish. And it's not just Pat and me. Every piece accepted for Fourth Genre has been read and wrestled over by many readers, championed and challenged alike as we celebrate the essays that have caught our attention. Of course, our review notes aren't much like the polished praise you'll find in a book jacket blurb; they are raw, unfiltered, and, since we read anonymously, entirely merit-based (no cronyism allowed).Here are a few examples of the reader notes that accumulated on this issue's accepted essays as they made their way through our review process. Maybe think of them as hot-mic testimonials recorded on the sly during an editorial discussion—nothing more than the opinions of a bunch of essay nerds trying to make a case for our favorite pieces: “The constant build-up and tear down in this essay as it moves through time is visual and compelling and meaningful.”“The narrator moves between reflecting on her experience and recounting vivid details . . . seamlessly. It would be easy to use ‘canned’ language in a piece like this, but the narrator keeps it fresh, with her unique perspective.”“This is a weird masterpiece.”“Yeah, this is rich, weird, and provocative. Most importantly it essays in lyric, interesting ways.”“I appreciate the interruptive narrator's voice guiding overtly throughout.”“There is something visceral and beautiful about this that avoids being bogged down despite the subject matter woven throughout.”“This essay has excellent scene work. It's easy to miss the narrative rumination because it's so carefully couched in scene. Excellently rendered, layered, fascinating.”“Yes, this is very good. Less essay than memoir, but timely, and the personal story is handled so deftly, the journalistic angle with sophistication.”“I thought the voice was intimate, engaging, and nicely controlled. The interplay between a singular experience and more universal issues was handled well.”“I found this to be really engrossing. A fresh and engaging voice, well-structured, and pretty deft handling of the two stories as the narrator moves through the day.”“Excellent meta-writing and a great story.”“It's simple and calm and it has a point to make, but it wins me over. I like that it essays, really thinks.”“The structure seems natural, not forced. The outside sources serve the story. The transitions work. The piece is engaging, with plain language that allows the reader to become absorbed rather than to puzzle over sentences. The theme is well thought out, and I will think of this essay, I am sure, many times, relating it to other works and aspects of my own life. I love it.”Taking this commentary all together, I see in it a sort of ars poetica on what we continue to look for at Fourth Genre. Strong writing. Compelling details. Narratives that wrestle with ideas and ideas that prove themselves with narrative. Structural control; precision of language, tonal confidence, some weirdness, experimentation, play. Essays that speak for themselves. Essays that demand to be read, and read again, and then shared. In other words, essays that generate their own authentic blurbs, one reader at a time.Selecting which pieces to accept and which to decline is such tough choice, and we know what a vulnerable act it can be to submit to a literary magazine. We are grateful to all our submitters for trusting us with their work, and to the entire literary nonfiction community, for making this small corner of the writing world such a lovely place to spend time.Sincerely,Joey Franklin and Patrick Madden