Once in a while, you feel like reading something literary: a cryptic story or important poem that makes you crinkle your brow and head for the dictionary. A piece you can picture in a textbook being studied by your grandchildren. Something enduring that must have taken the author years of chain-smoking, turtleneck-wearing, vermin-infested-NYC-studio-apartment-dwelling work to produce. Us too.
But the rest of the time, you just want a good story. That’s why we’re here. Suburban Fool offers high-quality, pretension-free short fiction, poetry, flash memoir and personal essays for your entertainment. We revel in genre and revere the mundane. Call us subliterary, we don’t mind. Years of living in tract housing, shopping in big box stores, and commuting 40 miles one-way to work at corporate jobs has made us tough.
Join us! Submit your work to Suburban Fool and be one of our first contributors.
I’ve traded in my unheated garret room for a trailer down by the river. I’ve gone online and ordered my fool’s cap. And I’ve run down to Fred Meyer to pick up an extra large bag of cheetos, because this is the subliterary magazine for me!