Editor's Note

My dog, Wilbur, barks to the world outside the living room window, his paw pressed against the glass. Sometimes he salivates when a canine friend trots by.A suburban side street is his metropolis, and he longs to be heard, to be seen, to sniff every blade of grass. I have edited this inaugural issue of the relaunchedParchment almost entirely next to Wilbur and his window. His bouts of uninhibited exclamations remind me of how I feel when I too have been relegated to observing the world from the bleachers despite wanting to hit the pavement. Except, unlike Wilbur, when that partition emerges and civilization seems beyond reach, I find relief not simply in going for walks, but in literature. To be a reader is to join a conversation I do not have to ask to participate in orb e invited into. To hold the words of another in my hand is to take my world into theirs and theirs into mine. For however long or short a time, I become as borderless as my circumstances and imagination allow.

This is not an enlightened take on the reading experience. It could be defined as a simple one. Heavy on cheese and hope. But it was the reasonI accepted the invitation to helm Parchment’s relaunch. When David Koffman and Adam Sol—who serve as Parchment’s executive editor and literary director, respectively—approached me with the idea of reviving the journal, I had never heard of Parchment before.

‍Parchment was founded in 1992 by poet-physician Shel Krakofsky, who, four years later, was succeeded by Adam Fuerstenberg, Parchment’s longest-serving editor. After Fuerstenberg’s departure, literary scholar Ruth Panofsky, who now sits on the journal’s new editorial and advisory boards, became editor in 2010 and published volume sixteen four years later. All three steered Parchment to publish fiction and poetry, as well as essays, reviews, and translations from established writers and emerging thinkers who would go on to help shape the future of Canadian literature. However, sadly, without consistent institutional support, the journal lay dormant. Now, with publishing support from the J.Richard Shiff Chair for the Study of Canadian Jewry, and the Association forCanadian Jewish Studies, an independent non-profit organization dedicated to the study of Canadian Jewry, Parchment can resume its role as a vehicle forCanadian Jewish expressions.

When I left that meeting with David and Adam, and after learning more about Parchment’s history, I realized what the literary and Canadian Jewish communities had been missing, and why, at this juncture, it is once again necessary to give established and emerging writers—and their readers—a journal devoted to contemporary Canadian Jewish writing.

The landscape for the Jewish community, and particularly for Jewish artists, has changed since October 7, 2023. The war in Gaza and attendant antisemitism in the diaspora have compelled Jewish writers and artists to examine Jewish identity, perspectives, and traditions with more fervour than before and in new ways. Yet there has been a silencing of Jewish voices, whether or not they’re writing on Jewish themes. Moreover, current political circumstances have created innovative and generative ways to imagine Jewishness and participate in Jewish life. As a literary journal, Parchment provides a platform in which contributors can showcase the dynamism of the Canadian Jewish experience, because literature is itself a dynamic form. Each piece can hold a different opinion, voice a different language, exclaim in italics.

In offering a new publication to explore what it means to be Canadian and Jewish, I hope you feel close enough to the writing that you become passionate about questioning the narrative, the poem, the illustration on the page. If you have felt an intra-Jewish partisan divide, perhaps the words from our contributors will break it, or perhaps the partition will solidify. Thankfully, literature affords us the ability to privately and intimately, as our mandate proclaims,“ sit with our contradictions and discomforts,” for we have always “been able to find those moments of reprieve in a faith and culture that embraces questions through language and storytelling.”

We kick off this new era of Parchment with Shel’s retrospective on how the journal came to be. You might have already noticed from the table of contents that this issue brims with poetry. The editorial staff and board initially desired a balanced serving of genres, but exceptional writing fuels this publication, not the pursuit of symmetry. If most portraits of Canadian Jewish life in this edition are painted with poetry, let us inquire as to why.

Each issue captures a glimmer of the ever-shifting relationships writers have to both Canada and Jewishness. It’s possible (or likely) some contributions to the journal will not read as evergreen, then, despite our hopes. The languages, traditions, and histories of all Jews should be preserved and celebrated with the same veracity. For instance, I understand how important preserving Yiddish culture is, but I also know, as an Arab Jew, that it is not synonymous with all Jewish culture. When there is an absence of representation, it discounts the presence of non-European Jews in Canadian Jewish life. And Parchment is committed to sharing and honouring a Jewish community as diverse as ours here in Canada. I am grateful for the variety of perspectives published in this issue; I know we could have more. We are, however, dependent on the submissions we receive. As you move through these pages, if you do not see your personal experience reflected here, please share your concerns or, even better, your own creative work at info@parchmentmag.ca. And, compliments are always welcome.

I, in fact, have one to offer. Much of what I say Parchment can provide rests not in surety but in hope. What I do know is that I am indebted to the collective of editors, advisors, and artists who tended to this issue’s creation and put their faith in me and one another. We are an imperfect and resilient community stretching across the country and the political spectrum, across ethnic and religious and linguistic lines too. Yet this journal that we’ve created together isa celebration of the joy, frustrations, absurdities, and unknowns that make the Canadian Jewish experience interesting enough to write and read about. In one literary gathering, worlds seemingly apart come together.

I look forward to venturing through, beyond, alongside, and around partitions for many an issue. Partitions are even necessary fixtures. Because of them, we can observe other worlds, other experiences, with critical distance; because of them, we become determined to bridge the divide, to seek inclusivity and harmony

On our walks, Wilbur becomes an almost silent creature. Barking is unnecessary when he is part of the action, when his snout finally meets grass. On our walks, I put aside the words and worlds of others and let them simmer, if they wish, in every stride I take. Wherever you are reading, for however long or briefly, I hope the expanse we offer stretches beyond the page. For now, however, let Parchment be your adventure.