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Last year, and the year before, it was almost fashionable to talk about the end of History, of socialism, and who knows whatever else. This issue of CONFRONTATION starts off with a 37-page supplement called "THE END OF LITERATURE", which came out of a special literature panel at a three-day conference held at Long Island University under the umbrella title "Turning 2000". The five literature panel speakers, all of the C.W. Post English Department, each

chose an era or a mood of a time to reflect on how millennial fever or consciousness has chartered and foretold literary performance and its social acceptability (or rejection).

There is some interesting reading in this supplement. It is clearly written and not overly academic in tenor. In short, the claim that literature will have less relevance in the new millennium was denied. Editor Martin Tucker, one of the original speakers, who discusses the fate of "print literature and the end of the literary magazine" in view of the advent and proliferation of electronic communication sums up the entire supplement:

So I conclude: we, or at least I, have not been talking about endings but about transitions, changes, beginnings. It is of course a truism — a nicer word than cliché — to say in the end is my beginning. But time is running out, centuries are shorter than they used to be, and I leave you with this thought — literature will persist, it will endure, it will NOT end. And it will change.

The rest of this double issue is filled with a very healthy helping of short stories and memoirs, free verse prosaic poetry, prose poems, poetry in translation, reviews and commentary. There is a lot to read here. fortunately not adversely affected by the surprisingly large number of typographical errors for such a big league publication. There are also contributor notes which reveal that most of the writers are academics and/or well-established whose writing is safe, of mundane topics handled very well. There are no risks taken here, but then again, none of the writing approaches anything that could be deemed mediocre.

Finally, of interest is the announcement of a new literary prize, The Sarah Russo Prize, for an essay on the theme, history, and/or style of "EXILE WRITING". This award is sponsored by the writer Albert Russo in honour of his mother. Contact the Editor for details.

The first thing to be said about CONFRONTATION is that it is very good. It sets a high standard. There's nothing in this double issue which doesn't qualify as Literature with a capital "L".

Having said that, we can commence the assault. And really it amounts to this: that there's very little here that's confrontational. Macho name, mild manners. We live in apocalyptic times (don't we always?) and there is a limit of the number of stories about psychologically flawed characters knocking about in heartland America that we need to read.

The story that sticks with me — not because it's the best piece of writing on show — it isn't — but because it tells me something I didn't already know — is Tom Stacey's GOLDEN RAIN. It deals with a couple of booze-pickled Englishmen working in Saudi Arabia. As a tale it's implausible, but as a window onto a world "out there" where ex-patriates buckle under the "white man's burden", it's an honourable piece of reportage in the more than honorable tradition of Conrad, Kipling, Maughan and Greene.

Otherwise, as I've said, there's lots of good writing, but not much that stays in the memory — at least not in mine. If I were handing out prizes second and third would go to Ben Brooks's THE FIRE, a touching story about growing old, and Aurelie Sheehan's THE CRUSH OF FEELING, an equally touching love story.

So far I've only dealt with the stories. There are also poems and a small section of reviews. Unique to this issue is a supplement entitled MEMORY AS INTERPRETATION which is a roundabout way of saying Memoirs. Terry Kennedy's BLESS ME FATHER, FOR I HAVE SINNED is the most confrontational thing in the magazine — a scarifying tale of abuse at the hands of a Catholic priest, and Sandy McIntosh's TAKING REALITY THROUGH ITS PACES — an account of indie film-making madness in the late sixties — is the funniest.