Delmarva Review, Volume 14

WELCOME TO DELMARVA REVIEW VOLUME 14, an annual, independent, nonprofit literary journal. In this, our largest edition, we selected the new writing of seventy authors that stood out from thousands of submissions during the year. Volume 14 includes ninety-eight poems, thirteen short stories, twelve creative nonfiction essays, and seven book reviews. In all, the writers come from twenty-five states, the District of Columbia, and four foreign countries. About forty percent are from the Delmarva and Chesapeake region, though the review welcomes the best new writing in English from all writers, regardless of borders.
The cover photograph, Tangier Island Light, taken at dusk is by contributing photographer Jay P. Fleming. It was taken as part of Fleming’s work for his wonderful new narrative photography book, Island Life, capturing “a pivotal moment in time for Smith and Tangier.” Life on these isolated islands in the Chesapeake Bay—the largest estuary in the United States—is often considered frozen in time, but Fleming has delved deeper, documenting work and life on the islands “as the very forces that sustain them also threaten to take them away.” While not the theme of the book, or of the Delmarva Review, climate change remains highly concerning. There is no preaching here—just the facts, images, and human stories—and you are likely to learn something new from the content (see the book review in this edition). The rest is up to you.
No singular theme emerges from this issue of the Delmarva Review. As a literary collection, we continue to focus on the best new writing and what is at stake or at risk emotionally or intellectually in the author’s work. The book opens with thoughts about life and death, where we realize the uncertainty of our days. Other topics include loss, desire, aging, equality, haunting regrets, bullying, beliefs, the pandemic, and the list goes on. Ultimately, themes revolve around change. It is through human change that we are forced to discover truths that guide us on our journeys or, perhaps, to make sense of where we have been. This is where our truths count most, usually with discomfort and little room for alternate deception.