The only production quibble is the typeface used for the photo captions: a near-illegible 6-point sans-serif that requires a magnifying glass. Whether this is an artistic choice (“the difficulty of seeing boundaries”) or a cost-cutting measure is unclear. Longtime readers will note a shift. Ls Land Issue 24 (the “Infrastructure” issue) was criticized for being too abstract, with essays that felt like they were written by algorithm. Issue 25 reverses course. There is a raw, diaristic quality to many submissions. The anonymous squatter’s diary, in particular, feels like a direct rebuke to the bloodless theory of previous years.
Ls Land Issue 25, Ls Land review, independent publishing, critical geography, psychogeography, landscape theory, Issue 25 analysis. Ls Land Issue 25
For the uninitiated, start elsewhere (Issue 19’s “Ruins and Remediation” is a better entry point). For the faithful, this is a necessary, if occasionally infuriating, addition to the canon. And for the curious? Find a copy before the 1,500 disappear into private collections and library reserves. The boundary is dissolving, and Issue 25 is the best map we have. If you enjoyed this analysis, explore our breakdown of Ls Land Issue 24 (Infrastructure) and an interview with founding editor Mara K. on the future of land-based publishing. The only production quibble is the typeface used
The opening portfolio, “Submerged Texts,” features a collaboration between hydrologist-turned-poet Miriam Caine and visual artist Jun Zhao. Their centerpiece is a series of “flooded palimpsests”—essays printed with hydrochromic ink that blurs when exposed to humidity. In prose terms, Caine argues that personal memory behaves like an aquifer: invisible, stratified, but subject to sudden contamination. One standout piece, “The Year the Surveyor Drowned,” rewrites a municipal land-use report as a ghost story. It’s a risky tonal shift, but for readers of Ls Land , it’s a welcome departure from dry exegesis. Ls Land Issue 24 (the “Infrastructure” issue) was
Does the issue have flaws? Certainly. The maritime metaphors become exhausting by page 200. The QR code gimmick adds little. But when it works—in the flooded prose of Caine, the devastating honesty of the squatter’s diary, the playful tyranny of the fold-out map— achieves what few journals even attempt: it changes how you see the ground beneath your feet.