A short zine replete with arresting black and white pen drawings in which houses and factories seem to be exploding out of the earth and leaving long trails in the sky. The writing isn’t really my kind of thing, though, as Pete spends a lot of the pages wallowing in our collective misery, reminding us that “we are sick. We are disfnctionnal [sic] beings.” The heart of this zine is the essay “A Human Problem” in which we are told that “true communication – with the existing means – is really impossible.” (Hal Niedzviecki)
zine, #11, Pete, $1, PO Box 64, Station C, Montreal, Quebec, H2L 4J7