An award-winning quarterly, Tin House started in 1999, the singular love child of an eclectic literary journal and a beautiful glossy magazine. Kick the habit, rebuild that public image, and get back in fighting shape with Tin House this Spring. We're coming at Rehab from every possible angle with new fiction, nonfiction, and poetry from established authors and New Voices alike.
Win McCormack is an American publisher and editor from Oregon.
He is editor-in-chief of Tin House magazine and Tin House Books, the former publisher of Oregon Magazine, and founder and treasurer of MediAmerica, Inc. He serves on the board of directors of the journal New Perspectives Quarterly. His political and social writings have appeared in Oregon Humanities, Tin House, The Nation, The Oregonian, and Oregon Magazine. McCormack's investigative coverage of the Rajneeshee movement was awarded a William Allen White Commendation from the University of Kansas and the City and Regional Magazine Association. His latest book, You Don’t Know Me: A Citizen's Guide to Republican Family Values, examines the sex scandals of Republican politicians who espouse "moral values."
As a political activist, McCormack served as Chair of the Oregon Steering Committee for Gary Hart's 1984 presidential campaign. He is chair of the Democratic Party of Oregon's President's Council and a member of the Obama for President Oregon Finance Committee. McCormack was also chosen as Alternate Delegate to the 2008 Democratic National Convention. He currently serves on the Oregon Council for the Humanities and the Oregon Tourism Commission. Additionally, McCormack sits on the Board of Overseers for Emerson College, and is a co-founder of the Los Angeles-based Liberty Hill Foundation
The "Rehab" title (like the accompanying description) is somewhat misleading; only two or three of the pieces contained here actually deal with rehab in the conventional sense; that's not a bad thing, just worth noting. As usual I struggled to find the point of certain stories, essays, and poems, but others stood out as exceptionally insightful or just plain good: J. P. Gritton's "Wyoming," and Jenn Shapland's "Illness at Metaphor" for instance. An interesting read for anybody who has struggled with chronic or 'invisible' illnesses.
I got into this issue more than any others in a while, though perhaps just for the emotional impact. Maybe the theme had subjects more likely to move me, but the pieces certainly did whether or not that's the case. I think it's a pretty heavy issue at least.
This issue had some creative explorations of the theme of rehab. It was surprisingly not drug focused, which is good, as it may have really dragged this down with a lot of samey content. Highlights include:
Leslie Jamison's "Confessions of an Unredeemed Fan", an essay about Amy Winehouse and how her addiction informed aspects of her own life.
"The First Wife" by Aimee Bender, a gripping, lyrical retelling of Bluebeard.
"Methods" by Meehan Crist, an essay about the personality changes in the author's mother after a concussion.
Karen Manguso's "Karaoke", an essay about what the title implies.
Rita Bullwinkel's "Decor" about a woman at a high-end furniture store and her strange relationship with an incarcerated man.
J.P.Gritton's "Wyoming" about a deadbeat trying to get his life in order.
Michael W. Clune's "Not in the Eye", a strange essay about not giving eye contact.
Jenn Shapland's "Illness is a Metaphor" about dealing with chronic illness and accepting "ill" as a destigmatized state of being.
I like the theme and diversity of this issue, and that everyone who reviews it seems to have different favorites. Personally I loved Rita Bullwinkel's bizarre, troubling, and totally great story "Decor," about a woman who works in a high-end furniture store as a kind of piece of living furniture and receives mail from a convict who wants fabric samples.
Jenn Shapland's essay "Illness Is Metaphor" was a standout too – partly because it's full of weird facts about health-seeking consumptives of the late 19th and early 20th century, but also because it describes in some detail what it's like to be undiagnosable, to live with an unnamed chronic illness, and to redefine the very ideas of health and wellness to yourself.
Amy Bloom's essay "Car Wash of the Dead" articulates an idea that I've been struggling to put into words for a long time: namely that death has a tendency to (car)wash away all the nagging irritations we experience with deceased people who we've loved and been close to.
I also enjoyed Leslie Jamison's "Confessions of an Unredeemed Fan." Having missed most of the Amy Winehouse writing of the past few years, having even failed to see the eponymous documentary about her, I found Jamison's essay riveting.
Bit of a mixed bag. The Rehab theme is pretty loose, enough to where I hardly ever summoned it to mind when reading most of these pieces. I love Leslie Jamison, but I've somehow overdosed on Amy Winehouse writing, lately, and hers didn't offer anything new. I liked Alyssa Knickerbocker's idea to write about motherhood and writing and X-Men. There are two terrifying and haunting essays on brain injuries from Meehan Crist and Kara Thompson. Fiction is really where this issue shined, for me, with strong stories from Jennifer Tseng, Aimee Bender, and Rita Bullwinkel that are diverse in their originality and style.
—"Methods," Meehan Crist —"The Car Wash of the Dead," Amy Bloom —"Karaoke," Sarah Manguso —"Fifties," Elissa Schappell —"Decor," Rita Bullwinkel —the lovely Marie Howe poems
The piece I was most taken in by—so, I suppose, it's also a highlight—was Leslie Jamison's "Confessions of an Unredeemed Fan." I love Jamison's writing so hard, so it was somewhat surprising to encounter this essay and have such mixed/complicated/knotty feelings about everything from its construction to its rhetoric to its general content. I think parts of it are brilliant and I think parts of it are problematic and I'm still grappling with it. But it's worthwhile reading, most surely, and a good teaser for her book on recovery and recovery narratives out next year.