Xerography Debt #34
Editor: Davida Gypsy Breier
http://www.leekinginc.com/
https://microcosmpublishing.com/

Is it weird to review a review zine? Am I going to poke a hole in the universe if I post this?

Last year, I was thinking about bundling up all my reviews into a zine review zine. Rather than jump right in, I decided to have a look around and see what, if anything, other people were doing with the idea. Let’s just say that when I came across ‘Xerography Debt’, I thought: Well, they have it covered.

Xerography Debt is amazing. I’ll put it right here toward the beginning of the review because that pretty much sums it up.

Aesthetically, I love this issue. The art is fantastic, the colours, and even the font of the words on the cover drew me in. They use great paper, a clear and readable font, and it’s one of those nice, thick zines that you know you’ll get to spend a lot of time with.

I usually don’t mention layouts, but this one bears mentioning. The inside cover has not only contact details but also lists out the whole Xerography Debt team, the table of contents, and breaks down the reviews into individual reviewer sections. Have I mentioned that they have 15 reviews on the team? Wowza. And an index in the back.

Even more, they have a “Basic stuff you should know” in the back in case this is your first issue of Xerography Debt.

This is where I start doodling ‘Nyx loves XD’ in my zine notebook.

As you would expect to see inside Xerography Debt, there are zine reviews. They tend to be on the shorter and sweeter side of things – at least, compared to my prattling on, they certainly are. Having a team of reviewers makes things even more interesting with the differing tastes and reviewing styles.

What gives the content that ‘frosting on top’ is that there are columns in there as well! There’s a perzine quality inserted into this review zine with columns that range from an interview to PO Box Withdrawal. I absolutely dug right in and loved the columns so much. I learned so much! For instance, I was reading one column that talked about amateur press associations. I lost hours researching APAs.

Backtracking a little to the first piece – the introduction – Davida beautifully states why it can still be a zine even if it has an ISBN:

[Zinesters] all try and stretch the boundaries of what can be done with photocopies and staples, but if what we have to say can’t be stapled, moving to book format makes perfect sense.

Boom. Done. Drop mic. There you go.

I must admit that letting myself loose with a zine that gave me even more zines to try to get my hands on might not have been the best idea, but I’m still glad I did it. Because zines. (Of course, now I have to get my hands on all the copies of this series…)

Do yourself a favour and grab an issue of Xerography Debt.

Bloomurder #1
Laura
www.facebook.com/bloomzine
https://www.etsy.com/au/shop/BLOOMURDER

My 101st zine review. Wow. I feel like I have a clean slate and greater expectations all at the same time. Haha. To give my anxieties a bit of a relax and my brain box some enjoyment, I figured Bloomurder #1 would be the way to go…

Bloomurder is a collection of bits and pieces of experiences. I say ‘bits and pieces’ with no disrespect. The content is a mix of art and travel, music and television shows from her youth. It bounces around a bit and doesn’t have a theme for the issue as such, but sometimes it’s nice to go along with someone else’s flow to see where it takes you. This style of doing things reinforces the ‘scrapbook’ feel I get with this zine.

I found the pieces funny in a synchronicity sort of way. I’ve never been to France, but Wanderer has, and he had some very similar things to say about the places there. Laura also talks about South Australia and the Adelaide Fringe Festival. I just so happen to be looking at moving to South Australia. So in that strange way, I do have somewhat of a bias toward some of the content.

This zine also combines journal aspects as well with little additions to go along with the writing instead of a cut and paste fiesta distracting from the words. Had I learned after the fact that this zine was a product of ‘converted notebook ramblings’ (instead of at the intro), I wouldn’t have been surprised.

Earlier today someone asked if there were any rules when it comes to making zines. There really aren’t, but Laura provides a good demonstration of the ‘general understanding’ when it comes to handwriting in zines: make sure people can read it! Laura has easy-to-read handwriting (except for one word on occasion 😉 ), as you can see* on the first page here:

One thing I found interesting in this zine is that Laura uses handwriting for some pieces and typing others. If someone had simply suggested this to me, I would have assumed that I wouldn’t like it. As it turns out, I do. The change from piece to piece fits the overall ‘scrapbook’ sort of feel that I get with this zine.

I find it a lot of fun to look at a person’s first zine, especially after they have been making them for a while. I’m very curious to see how Laura’s style has changed or stayed the same in the issues of Bloomurder that follow.

PS. I have to mention that her contact/media details right in the front, clear and easy to find. Yes!

*I’ve decided to revisit my rule about no pictures of the insides of zines. I am looking at doing it more, but for the time being, I am going to be very picky about what I take pictures of.

Guest Informant #1
Emma D / Luke You
guestinformantzine@gmail.com

Ah, the 100th review. I hope you’ll like my choice for the big 100th, because I certainly enjoyed it on a number of levels. Of course, it wouldn’t be a review if I didn’t tell you all about it…

I’d tell you what Guest Informant #1 is about, but I think they’ve already done a better job than I could do…

Guest Informant is a conversation zine made by Sydney zinemaker Emma D and Melbourne zinemaker Luke You. Issue number one was recorded on Sunday 19.7.2015 in Emma D’s kitchen in Dulwich Hill, Sydney Australia.

I usually leave the tactile type stuff for the end of the review, but I think I’ll put it at the beginning this time, as that’s what second caught my attention with this zine (the first being the title, which I think is very cool). I was quite enamoured with the slightly thin, slightly brown interior paper of this zine. As it turns out, they saved me the time of tracking down more info about it, as this is in the back:

…The inside pages are all 60gsm Bulky Newsprint from the intriguing Stationers Supply in Collingwood.

I love it to absolute bits in ways that don’t quite fit into words yet. In ways that make me think that I simply must have some even if I never do anything with it (more the shame if I didn’t, though).

I was actually a bit nervous at the beginning of reading this zine, as they were talking about bands and gigs. If there’s one thing I don’t know about (other than poetry), it’s the band/music scene. But before I knew it, I’d already been swept up in the flow of conversation. The conversation being what this zine is all about.

There’s something really beautiful about text on a page with nothing else. There aren’t even names or indicators to tell you who is speaking, let alone anything like body language (but for the occasional ‘(laughs)’). I imagine people who know one or both of the people involved could guess, but I don’t. When you strip that away, even stripping away things that inform our prejudgments that we didn’t realise informed our prejudgments, you’re left only with what the people are actually saying.

Reading this zine was like reading the middle of a book. No backstory. You have the main topics, but there are also the little clues like how it started with playing the flute and references to Sticky Institute in Melbourne. Sure, I have absolutely no clue about what it’s like to be a band in the world today, but it’s a natural conversation that sweeps from side to side picking up other little side topics along the way.

You would think that something like this – a conversation in a kitchen between two people – would lend itself to being something incredibly intimate bordering on secretive. While there’s nothing wrong with that, this zine really isn’t – and that’s a good thing. There is that degree of separation there, of course, but I read this feeling like it was a regular conversation between a couple of friends that might happen in any kitchen across Australia. It was good and relaxed, and it felt real. Nothing forced happening in that kitchen on that day.

At the very end of the zine, you do get a peek beyond the words to what I assume is the kitchen where the conversation took place. A lovely end to the zine.

I chose Guest Informant #1 as my 100th zine to review because it encompasses so much of what I love about zines. The feel of non-‘traditional’ materials in its physical form, the thickness of a zine that tells you there are many things to be enjoyed inside, the typewriter letters, the anything-goes kind of content the might not be everyone’s cup of tea but it’s out there in zine life and culture because it is welcome there. At the risk of sounding cliche, it is what it is and makes no excuses for that. Nor should it.

For that is why zines are amazing.