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WHO WE ARE AND WHAT WE DO
Stanley Elkin once said that when he was writing his novel George
Mills (winner of the National Book Award), he had the clear
impression that he owned the language. Possession is nine-tenths
of the law, and Elkin was gifted enough that few writers would have disputed his claim.
But that's the great thing about language, and the English language in particular: it's an inexhaustible resource, and yet no one has exclusive rights to it. Authors of all stations continue to mine it for the ore that makes great literature, and the rich veins show no sign of thinning out. So it's a good thing that we've given up on the idea that anyone, even a sovereign, can own the language. And yet there is still an aristocracy of literature, a landed gentry taming the language's borderless estates, shaping them, and -- to borrow from Twain -- sivilizing them. The King's English serves, we hope, as their Burke's Peerage, as the social pages of their hometown rag. Only, in place of the newspaper editor's time-honored credo, If it bleeds, it leads, ours will be, If it reads well, it leads .... You were maybe expecting a manifesto instead of a series of metaphors? A scholarly disquisition on the Sorry State of Literature and how The King's English is going to rehabilitate its ass? We'll give it to you straight: we publish novellae, short stories, essays, book reviews, and (what the hell) poetry. We specialize in unpopular lengths because print journals can't afford to publish long pieces, and there's a lot of vital, eye-popping writing out there being overlooked only because it takes more than 10 minutes to read but it can't be sold as a book. And we publish shorter forms because the brutal fact is that much of the best writing is overlooked every day of the year, regardless of length. Sadly, Stanley Elkin is no longer around to sublet us the language, but there are plenty of others here who've borrowed it: welcome to The King's English. Pull up a chair. -Benjamin Chambers
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