Dear reader,
Welcome to Issue 120 of The Rupture, our final issue.
The Rupture was originally brought into being by a small group of very dedicated people who recognized that there was a substantial audience for writing that magazines with large circulations considered too challenging or adventurous, not commercial enough, not the right fit for their wider audiences. In August, 2009, readers looking for such writing had options, but I don't think many of those readers would have reported being well served (I say this as one of those readers; maybe you were, too). By choosing to publish entirely online—at that time, a rarity—The Rupture sought to greatly expand the audience for such writing, and, by any measure, it succeeded.
That year, I happened to be interning for one of those magazines with a large circulation. I had the privilege of being in its editorial meetings, hearing its editors deliberating—often with great passion and intelligence—and then choosing to publish this over that because that was ultimately too difficult, it wouldn't appeal to certain readers, or because that didn't fit the image the magazine had created for itself and what it thought its readers wanted from it. Fair decisions, to be sure, appropriate for that magazine, but, still, and in almost every case, that was the thing I thought ought to have been published, not this.
When I made the decision to join the staff of The Rupture, at the end of its first full year of publication, it was because I believed in the writing The Rupture was publishing, and because I believed in its mission. The Rupture was, I thought, doing the necessary work, the vital, important work that few others were doing. I don't say that to denigrate the work done by my colleagues at the magazine with the large circulation, but I understood—and so did they—that the writing those colleagues were publishing was writing that would have been published regardless of their decisions. It was writing that any number of magazines would have been happy to run.
I believed that the same couldn't have been said for The Rupture—not because what we publish isn't eminently worth publishing and reading, but because it doesn't always look like the things other magazines publish. There were, are, and always will be magazines that publish this, the kind of writing one can find without much effort. The ones that publish that, though, the labors of love . . . those are the magazines I value. I think you must, too, if you're reading this letter.
That essential distinction—this versus that—has guided most of the decisions The Rupture has made as a publication in the 13 years since I joined its staff. We've always aspired to bring you writing that reads like something you can't easily find elsewhere. I hope we've succeeded. I think we have.
Although this is our final issue, that work isn't over; it isn't work that can ever be over.
For 14 years, we've done that work, and we are proud of the work we've done. Obviously, it's not anything we could have done without a lot of help. Over the course of those 14 years, our debts of gratitude have grown enormous.
Speaking personally, I am grateful to our self-sacrificing staff, all of our guest editors, our two publishers, and our supporters. They have kept this magazine going, kept me going. Because I want you to spend your time reading the work in this issue and not reading a long letter of thanks, I'll keep my list short and focused on our staff, but please know there are many, many more individuals who are owed thanks than appear here.
Thank you to past editors Matt Bell, Matthew Olzmann, Joe Scapellato, Bess Winter, Michael Jauchen, Emily Alex, and Elizabeth Deanna Morris Lakes. And a special thank you to the editors who are responsible for this issue (and many more before it): Marielle Prince, Andrew Farkas, and Alice Maglio. If you want a longer, more complete list of people who have made the work we've done possible, please head over to our archives—all of the people whose names you see listed there, our talented, generous, and kind contributors, are owed thanks.
And you, reader, you are also owed my thanks. You, too. Maybe most especially you. Thank you for this extraordinary honor and privilege. I am grateful.
Sincerely,
Gabriel Blackwell
Editor
The Rupture