Okay, so while Grimoire isn’t necessarily a blog per se, I want to include it here anyway because it’s one of the best things I’ve seen all week and it deserves to be furiously blogged about. I stumbled across it entirely by accident, like with most things of this ilk. It was another occasion where I found myself thinking ‘and how exactly did I manage to miss this for so long for fucks sake?’
What Grimoire is:
‘…an online literary publication that publishes reviews of books that are not new, literary séances of authors in conversation with their dead influences, people reading out loud, spells that read like poems, and curated lists, as well as fiction, nonfiction, and poetry.’
So perfection, if you ask me.
An easy to navigate, beautifully laid out site, with truly engaging content is all essential for me if I’m going to be enjoy to the fullest, and actually want to come back on a regular basis. Grimoire is all three of these things.
As someone who has founded numerous magazines, both on and offline, I can say with confidence that Grimoire has that wonderful, indie literary mag feel about it. It’s run by three woman – Jessica Berger, Annah Browning and Brooke Wonders – all of whom sound just bloody fantastic in their bios. I’d love to grab some tea with them all and just ramble about the weird and darkly wonderful.
When you arrive at Grimoire, you can navigate your way to whatever genre might tickle your fancy, i.e. poetry, non-fiction or spells, charms and divination. Alternatively, you can read your way through every issues they’ve launched since July 2016. There was 3 on my last count. There’s also plenty of art to get your gnashers into, including work by one of my favourites Katy Horan.
And a new soul I’ve never encountered before now, M Laverick.
I managed to find out about Grimoire when I was looking for interviews with Sabat’s editor Elizabeth Krohn. I found they had conducted a hugely engaging conversation with the goddess of print, some of which I’ll share with you now.
GRIMOIRE: What was your curatorial process like for the magazine?
EK: Assembling Sabat was always an intuitive process. That said, I think it’s been wonderful to have a really niche concept to be creative around, that we could push in different directions to accommodate sparks of inspiration or happy accidents that presented themselves along the way. I really wanted Sabat to embody a sense of narrative and dialogue, echoing the phases of life, or a relationship, headlines or graphic spreads that talked to each other expressing a kind of ambivalence or conflict about female existence. I’d listen to Stevie Nicks or Hole or read up on Jenny Holzer and shamelessly pinch lyrics or quotes I felt were appropriate and try to collage that with 17th century engravings, a really surface-level fascination with Jungian psychology, moody analogue photography and tech-age hexing, hoping to encapsulate a slice of witchy womanhood (but also where I was at) at this point in time.
As I was wondering around the poetry section, I felt particularly connected to the work of Chet’la Sebree.
I also found myself getting all infatuated with the fiction from writer Andy Myers. Here’s an extract from his story I Am In Love With An Elk Headed Woman.
‘I am in love with an Elk-Headed Woman. On weekends I hike to her windowless cabin in the mountains, just above the tree line where the scent of cedar blows over rocky, barren fields. We spend this time gathering wood and sitting, wrapped in blankets, in front of the fire. She runs her hand through the back of my short hair, and I pick ticks from the fur on her nose as I tell her about my week. She says she envies me when I talk about my co-workers and staff meetings. I reassure her it’s nothing exciting and ask about her birding journal.’
There’s plenty enough stuff going on at The Grimoire to keep you going for a while. Now that I have it on my radar, I won’t be letting it out of my sight. The contributions are just too fucking good. I take my witch’s hat off to the three at the helm. Thank you for making the internet a better, stranger place.