First, thank you for exploring the Review.

Writers, many thanks for considering writing for the Review. Without a large back catalog of issues to look at that is an act of trust and we will see to it that your essay or piece will be in good company. We will try to anticipate and answer your questions here.

In General

Why are you here?

From working as a journalist and editor for 40 years in New York and in Hawai‘i, during which we observed the rise and fall of Hawai‘i media of all kinds, we have come to believe we are in a perilous moment. We know this is no surprise to you in terms of our society and state. But, almost without exception, our newspapers, magazines and other media (radio, television) are struggling to survive. The shakeout of 2020 has claimed many jobs and many titles. What’s left is a shrunken space for expression and exploration. Not only is there less space for stories, but what space that’s left is commercially defined, politically defined or controlled by consolidation and by bureaucratic or offshore entities.

But, in truth, the members of the above media, with the exception of a certain late lamented alternative newspaper, have always enjoyed a cozy commercial relationship with the powers that have plunged Hawai‘i into crisis this past decade. It’s someone else’s job to tell the truth.

Academic journals and lit ‘zines are not well-equipped or temperamentally suited to tackle crises. They do what they do and in Hawai‘i do it very well; we do believe that, every day, men die for the want of poetry, as William Carlos Williams wrote. We wish to celebrate and include our local publications as part of our mission—which is to combine vigorous, literate journalism and the celebration of culture high and low in all its forms.

Having the experience, the chops, the connections and the requisite foolhardiness, we took the plunge because we believe the people, the writers and the readers of Hawai‘i deserve an open, inclusive, literate and fearless media voice that isn’t owned by a corporation, an institution, a billionaire or a single point of view. The Hawai‘i Review of Books is our answer to your question, “Why isn’t there anything to read about Hawai‘i as it really is and really feels?”

We welcome readers, writers and artists to throw in with us in producing real-time, real-issues, real-writing commentary on any and every topic under the Hawaiian sun and the rays of its diaspora.

Oh, and about that foolhardiness. In our time we’ve started half a dozen magazines and large for-profit websites, a couple of which are still going strong. When it comes to startups, everybody always laughs at first.

This time, they didn’t. You didn’t. We’re humbled by your response.

Will there be a print edition?

We are hoping and have plans. A print annual is one possibility. We will keep you posted.

Are you on social media? Can we like you?

We are. You can. Hashtag us.

Facebook: @HawaiiBooks

Twitter: @HIReviewofBooks

Instagram: @HawaiiReviewofBooks

#HawaiiReviewofBooks

Can I help?

Yes. Thank you for asking. Send us an email and list anything you’d like to do in your dream role. But also, jot down your skills and allude (modestly) to your network, if you have one. Why network? We find most writers don’t realize what a richness they have in terms of former teachers and mentors, or authors they know, or authors whose works they know inside and out. All of these can be rich sources of Q&As, reviews, and retrospectives/roundups.

Please email us at hawaiireviewofbooks -at- gmail.com.

For Advertisers

Who can I speak with about securing an ad on THROB?

Please email us at hawaiireviewofbooks -at- gmail.com

For Writers

Do I pitch or do I submit?

Pitches are good if you want to know if we’re receptive to your idea. Submitted finished work is good because we will find out if it works for us. Either is good. Please feel encouraged. We also solicit multimedia (video), photography and art.

All editorial/art inquiries to: hawaiireviewofbooks -at- gmail.com

Reading period? 

No reading period. Get to work.

Publication cycle and deadlines?

We’re online, so it’s fluid. We’re trying for a cycle where the site is refreshed by new pieces but slow enough so that they stay up long enough. How this works out is a work in progress.

What do you pay?

Excuse me? You pay us. No, just kidding. Put the malassadas on the doormat.

We recognize payment is serious business for writers. Providers of the actual stuff of magazines, newspapers, books, they—we—are woefully undercompensated. Things have gone from bad to worse since 2007 (and you know we will write about it in a future story), turning writers in Hawai‘i from paupers into beggars.

At the Star-Advertiser newspaper, union wages start low and are capped at about $60,000 for those with decades of service; this is below federal poverty level. At the various magazines, $60,000 is a fantasy; the wages for all but topmost editors are below federal poverty level. (Personally, we don’t know a person who’s had a raise in 10 years, without a major title change, but plenty who took cuts or layoffs or buyouts.) The payments for freelancers are grudging and exploitative: $50 for a web item, $100 for a newspaper special. Some get more, a lot get less. Only the top glossy magazines, Hana Hou! and Honolulu, pay a fair rate per word when compared to their counterparts on the Mainland. It doesn’t go very far.

If you write professionally, you know this. (If you don’t, but read, subscribe to all the above media, please. We need them all.) The only exception is Civil Beat (which is why the newspaper’s veteran reporters are fleeing there). The situation is so bad we’re losing not one but several generations of journalists and editors of talent and fire. THROB is for them, too.

Financial insecurity is a familiar in the Islands. In journalism it’s often gendered and coercive of women. Fear of losing work has created a media median that is cautious, timid to the point of obsequiousness, overly reliant on press handouts and favors, and incurious. But we also know that within those ink-stained hearts the desire burns to write something that tells the truth, tries to aim for the top, and matters. We know because we’ve been there. That’s why we’re here.

None of us take a salary, earn a check or a residual for what we do (if this ever changes we’ll let you know). To some, this might disqualify us as fools and blockheads. But we do make a profit in other ways, first of all by doing something for Hawai‘i; by shaking off the paralysis of not speaking up; by not giving up on our dreams and authorial ethics; by breaking the code of silence. We also make a space, a platform, a true Ninth Island (forget Las Vegas, vampiric bleeder of money from those least able to afford it). On this Island of THROB we welcome all those who want to breathe and write freely and to the top of their bandwidth, not for the mediocre middle register.

“If they want to laugh at you, they will find a way. You might as well get over it.”
—Twyla Tharp

One more thing about payment. We can’t promise this, but your work will be noticed, and read, by a wider audience. We have experience helping local writers connect to mainland mainstream publishers and agents. In fact, we intend to circulate THROB among literary agencies and to any editors who inquire. For free.

What happens to my copyright?

It’s yours. We don’t retain copyright. We ask that you not republish your piece for six months, but even that is a question of manners, not law. Do inform us when you submit how you want your copyright line to read.

What do we look for?

What we don’t look for is an easier question to answer. But, to try, first consider our tagline:

Intended to be by, for and about those who read, write and engage with the Islands.

There’s a lot of latitude there if you parse those words “by, for and about”—if you simply must write about the Totoro shirt your friend Gail gave you and how it’s opened doors for you all around the Islands, then do so.

Besides books, our default, there’s politics, art, policing, music, Polynesia, sport, the environment—and so forth.

Nothing is outside our ken, as long as it works. So, let’s say you went through a phase of reading Proust and you still think about Proust in Hawai‘i—which is a thing, apparently. Well, the door is open. (In fact, “Proust In Hawai‘i” must be a solid gold headline, because someone nabbed the assignment within seconds of this posting.)

More to the point, there’s Hawai‘i’s thousand-plus-year legacy of literature—oral and written and underground and aboveground—to reflect on and react to. There’s all the writing and films and songs about Hawaii by outsiders and the marketing of Hawaii to the world; so much hype we have to deal with just walking out the door, right? Now juxtapose that to our present, a warp-speed technological and cultural revolution in society and the world, going on right this instant. Between these three poles are a lot of possible points of engagement for a writer.

Practically speaking, we like book reviews. That’s in our name. Not just of new books, but of books from the past, so many of which have been forgotten. We also know “book review” conjures images of junior high school book reports. We don’t want those, but we understand your reluctance.

But here’s the thing. We need writers reviewing writers—not just blurbing, gushing uncritically, but exploring them. We know that scares some people. We also know people love it when they get reviewed but can’t seem to find the time to do their share of the reviewing. That’s human nature. But let’s get people excited about reading and rereading. Reading soared during 2020. It’s going to stay that way as we all search for meaning and release from the grip of the almighty smartphone. If you can’t review a contemporary work for fear of offending, take on works from 10, 20, 50, 100 years ago.

Check out stories in the press. Every story in the mainstream media is not telling the whole story. Fill in the dots for us. Consider the miles of unexplored territory in the translations of Native Hawaiian newspapers. Look for tales and anecdotes. If you have JSTOR access through your university, consider looking up journal articles of any kind, from the latest Pasifika lit to ones from the 1920s that are howlingly bad. We’ll reprint them. But also, write about what you find. We’re curious. How did it make you feel? And do mashups of books on similar subjects from different eras. Do local children’s books.

We like think pieces. These are essays/articles that stake out a position or work toward one, using powerful writing liberated from societal, academic and commercial constraints. These will be better for liberal quotation from sources and from texts, i.e., not reliant on hearsay, “everyone says so,” and whatever Twitter said a moment ago. Books. Throw in a lot of books and you will make us, and authors, and readers, even happier.

We like political pieces, or politico-cultural pieces. These are essays/articles that cite sources and quote people, especially those the writer has actually interviewed, but including cites and quotes from previously published sources. As for topic, well, What isn’t being said, or being said in ways devious or inadequate? Where are the Emperor’s New Clothes?

Topics? Take your pick: the current scandal (which one?!), economic situation, political struggles, or institution in crisis (which one?!). Write about corruption, class and race, the environment, development, etc. If you can make it particular to what you’ve experienced personally, or observed, in your time, so much the better. We aren’t much into wonky thumb-sucking pieces and we’ve read enough op-eds that express anger and demand change; the problem has been diagnosed. Make the change happen in your piece, please.

We like your deeper dives into what moves you, excites you, makes you desperate to tell others about to the point of making them roll their eyes: yes, that.

We want to run haiku book reviews. Let’s see if someone answers the call. To us, it’s a quick fun way to convey the nature of a book in 5-7-5 syllable stanzas. This could be like doing the crossword or Jeopardy. Please, someone, try?

Jeopardy-style:

So many years ago

In galaxy far away

When the heavens turned

Answer: _________________________

Is anything off-limits?

When we went to buy the acronym for The Hawai‘i Review of Books—THROB—the IP host service wanted to charge us $170,000 for THROB.com. They figured us for a porn site.

So, we are not a porn site.

One way to find clarity is to consider Twitter: short, punchy, verbally abusive exchanges that deteriorate (if they didn’t start off at high heat). Twitter is about the putdown, the comeback, the crush that cancels. (They don’t even do cats nicely.)

So, we are not Twitter. But:

1. Don’t be a small soul. Look for the bigger picture.

2. Don’t be an assassin, but don’t be wishy-washy, either. 

3. Don’t promote your own work, especially by tearing other writers apart.

4. Understand the plight of the writer, how hard it is, how none of us are perfect, how those who write are sometimes unaware as to how they come off. Hate the sin, not the sinner. Oh, and “hate” is probably the wrong word choice.

5. Do take risks, write with candor or at least with nudges that will tell those in the know what you really think. 

6. Do take it as your mission to help Hawai‘i writers and Hawai‘i lit and culture step into the limelight. In fact, encourage your friends to write for us.

7. Do take the Review as your opportunity to set the record straight, to rip the covers off this dirty ol’ town, to get it off your chest.

8. You can also write about food. Music. Film. Opera. Surfing. Etc.

9.  Spare us religious and political proselytizing. Analysis, we like. 

10.  Write about third-rail topics: if you can figure out a way, shine some light on race, religion, complicity in gentrification and income inequality by elites, unions, developers, surf schools, the Democratic Party, our toxic masculinity, addiction to monster pickup trucks and tolerance of corruption.

Are you snobs?

We’re not snobs. If your expertise is in a genre—YA, translations of Native Hawaiian-language newspapers, military history, thrillers, romances—bring it on. If you hold a passion for a quirky sub-genre—such as, oh, the literature of small talkative animals—we want to see how you can make that work for us. (We all were once small talkative animals.)

Try us. Just be, you know, excellent.

For Writers (Reference)

Hawaiian Diacritical Marks

We use them. It would help if you did when submitting. Here’s a font case Prepared By A Friend.

‘okina: ‘

kahakō: ā ē ī ō ū Ā Ē Ī Ō Ū

Length Guidelines

The nature of online publishing means one formerly important consideration, length, as in words and pages, doesn’t matter. The removal of this discipline—in print it’s a fiscal discipline as well—has hazards, of course. But we’ve all been writing online, in emails and blogs and so forth, for so long that the excitement of going on forever has palled. Even for editor Don Wallace (and he’s notorious).

For that reason alone, we don’t set word lengths. Please write as long as it takes.

However, we recognize that makes us all nervous. In Wallace’s magazine and website experience, he can say 400 words is a good bare minimum for a book review. At Kirkus Reviews, which is a capsule review service and where he reviewed for 25 years, 350 was the iron limit. But they did 45 to 60 reviews per issue. To do Kirkus one better, we’d like to run haiku book reviews with the 5-7-5 stanza format. (See above under What do we look for?)

Expanding from there with another “for instance,” in 2020 Wallace did a full-page review of a single book for the Wall Street Journal that came to 800 words—but it was broken up into a half dozen subsections with illustrations. A review of Paul Theroux’s surfing book in THROB, on the other hand, ranged widely over his career and ended up at 3,800 words, after a lot of cutting.

Your sweet spot will depend on the subject, how deep a vein you’ve struck, and your own sense of how much a reader can take in. A brisk 1,500 words is a journalistic standard and always appreciated as a pro’s length—that’s about 6 pages typed, double-spaced, at 12-point type.

Newspaper op-eds and editorials range from 375 to 650 words, typically; the sweet spot is/was 400. So if you’re writing us a well-shaped argumentative essay and want it to stick in the minds of your readers, that’s one guideline.

Longer features begin around 2,500-2,750 words; that’s a length considered average for a not-long feature in a magazine. A 3,500-5,000 piece is considered a longer feature; my March cover story in Honolulu is 3,750.

But when the words are flowing and a writer is on a roll, we hardly care. Right? It then becomes a question of reader fatigue. And that is a question of risk for the writer—the longer you go, the more readers you may lose.

A good maximum is 8,000 words, based on what journals and magazines publish and my own experience of the limits of physical fatigue and retention. Any article that takes more than three meals (assuming you read as I do, with chopsticks in the air, making mental notations on an invisible whiteboard) is probably in need of a diet.

Henry James once apologized for a long letter because he didn’t have the time to write a short one. That stings (me, writer of long anything). But he’s also being witty at the expense of how writers write. We all know that sometimes we don’t know what we want to say until we’ve started writing. The luxury to go long gives you the chance to write yourself more deeply into your subject. Think of that as the luxury of THROB, too. Give yourself space and see what grows there.

Besides, James wrote some of the longest, least penetrable sentences in English by a famous writer.

Once you have your draft, and it’s a long one, then, of course, you will edit yourself, and rewrite, and trim the redundancies. If you have more thoughts and it grows longer then the process starts anew. After a couple of cycles you will have the piece that feels like it did the job you want it to at the right length to reach the maximum number of the right readers. 

Mahalo for submitting. Good hunting!