I hate to say something negative about a zine, but The Polka Dot Ceiling is unremarkable. A collection of poetry with a smattering of images, this zine doesn’t do anything wrong, exactly, but it doesn’t really do anything to make it stand out. The works included are predominantly dull and uninspired, rarely raising my interest beyond a casual “okay.” Which is particularly disappointing, given that the cover is moderately provocative, boasting that the contents are “Poetry for the Fucked.” Perhaps next time there could be a little more editorial scrutiny. There could be some good pieces in here, but they’re drowned out by those that aren’t so good. (Jon Pressick)
Literature, #5, £2 + shipping, Andrew Copeman, 31 Second Avenue, Shotgate, Wickford, Essex SS11 8RD, UK, [email protected]