The Factsheet 5 Zine Reader

Edited by R. Seth Friedman (Three Rivers Press)
by William Ham

The ‘zine revolution has arrived. Funny, I thought it had been around since ’76 (that’s 1776, not 1976 –Poor Richard’s Almanack was the Sniffin’ Glue of its time), but that’s what Time says, so it must be true, and there is some truth to the contention – in terms of vitality, prolifigacy, and sheer, unfettered energy, the underground media’s visions of popular culture have pretty much outstripped their subjects. (Ask anyone who’s had to write a 10,000-word think piece on the Verve Pipe.) The proof in the off-putting lies in the number of ‘zine anthologies that have begun to pop onto the shelves. RE/Search has devoted two volumes to the subject, seminal examples like Punk and Search & Destroy and newer ones like Rollerderby have been bound and tagged ($16.99/slightly higher in Canada), and now, R. Seth Friedman, a man who’s read more of ’em than most as publisher of the indispensable consumer’s guide Factsheet 5, has skimmed some of the creamiest scum off the top of the small-press cauldron for The Factsheet Five Zine Reader.

I imagine Friedman intends this as a coming-out party for the guerrilla galley gang – he’s cleaned up some of the mongrel horde, dressed ’em up nice ‘n’ pretty, and made the appropriate introductions. With a galax of sources from which to choose, it’s no shock that the articles in the Reader (divided, like F5‘s review sections, into categories like “Sex,” “Music,” “Politics,” and “Fringe”) are all exceedingly well-written examples of the form. (Personal faves include: Kim Perkins’ “Tales From The Scrypt,” a true story which will forever keep me from responding to those “Earn Money Reading Books!” ads in the paper; Jack Stevenson describing “The Sleaziest Theater In America” in lusciously rancid detail; and Scott Hamrah’s piece on Jerry Lewis’ notorious, unreleased Holocaust farce The Day the Clown Cried, a highly intelligent and articulate defense that merits inclusion here mostly for a title [“Thus Spake Cinderfella”] that I woulda kilt to have thought of.) In fact, if it weren’t for the often controversial and/or picayune subject matter, most of these pieces would fit quite comfortably in one of your better glossy newsstand mags. (Are there any?) This serves to point up both the timidity and offensive inoffensiveness of the mainstream media as well as showing ‘zines as the true vox populi of our age, a gob in the eye of received notions of reality that plays as subversion when really it’s the way things oughtta be. My one complaint about the F5ZR, and it’s a petty one, is that Friedman gives short shrift to the crazed fiction, visual savagery and irrational, psychotic rants that are as much a part of this subterrain as the stuff he showcases here, but that’s a job that a few dozen more volumes of this could easily handle. This is essential reading for anyone bemoaning the death of free expression in America, and an inspiration to the disgruntled and dispossessed everywhere in this fragmented culture. We are not alone.