In addition, our original blog and website, inspired by McSweeney's Internet Tendency, morphed into Atticus Review, a now triannual lit mag dedicated to inventive fiction, poetry, creative non-fiction, and mixed media. Our purpose on earth is to help lead independent book selling and publishing into a new era. Moreover, we intend to follow in the spirit and tradition of offbeat bookstore and publi
shing house dynamos such as City Lights Bookstore, Milkweed Books, Two Dollar Radio, and our interstellar North Star, Shakespeare & Company. Atticus Books humbly strives to be "a small, good thing" in the literary landscape. If you admire the author of the short story from which we liberated that phrase (Raymond Carver), then we indeed are of like mind and spirit. For literature loving loons, we are a safe haven. For poets, we are a place to hang your halos and tune your pitchforks. For storytellers, we are a coop to fly and a home to roost. For undiscovered authors seeking to publish short works, we are a virtual training ground and depot for online submissions. If you possess the writing chops to play in the big leagues, then stumble no further and send us your stuff. We are where distinct voices become legend. Atticus Books is owned and operated by an old bohemian soul who prefers levity over gravity. The publisher has a makeshift, talented, and imaginative (sometimes imaginary) staff who take pride in working hard and knowing the value of everything and the price of nothing. For those of you still reading (and perhaps warming up to us, but not yet sure if we're a fit for your taste in books or humor), don't sweat it; we're not publishers of comedic authors, not yet anyway, though we wouldn't mind if David Sedaris or Augusten Burroughs were to break free from their publishing agreements and sign with our house. For those who already have left this description or skipped to our long-winded mission soliloquy and then taken flight for fear that associating with us would alert the authorities and prove that you either are completely nuts or lack sound judgment, we offer the following advice:
Please don't let the tree house door hit you on your way out. (On second thought, let's have the door graze you and leave an indelible mark. Boo Radley needs some amusement; Dill and Jem need a good laugh; and we insist on leaving a lasting impression.)
