In a world of sorrow and grief,
There must be answers that give us relief.
In a world with babies that hunger,
There must be answers that will uncover.
In a world of agony and pain,
There must be answers that will restrain.
In a world of hate and bigotry,
There must be answers that will give symmetry.
In a world full of hurt and distress,
There must be answers that will redress.
In a world with people and cities,
There must be answers that will not pity.
In a world of the old and decrepit,
There must be answers that will be epic.
In a world of the deaf and the blind
There must be answers that will give peace of mind.
ESM
Some places have always had literary weight: the South, the West, Chicago. And while Upstate New York has always had its own crop—Russell Banks, Joyce Carol Oates, William Kennedy—who our writers are and what that setting means has been harder to define. When I started reading for Stone Canoe 4, I wasn’t looking for more stories about the area, but rather stories that grew—in language, scope and cadence—out of what it means to live here. Not all of these stories are Upstate New York stories, but I’m consistently surprised by the way setting and surrounding infuses a writer’s work, world view, tone and language, from living here, in the weather, driving the I81 corridor, the Thruway. We live in an unpredictable place, a place of extremes: stark beauty, harsh climate, intense color, dramatic landscape. These stories reflect that in their very bones.