Review by Christian Parenti
Zines are the kudzu weed of the publishing world. Much like that floral alien which so
dominates the empty lots and waste ground of the U.S. South, zines have for years
flourished on a social terrain long deemed worthless and inaccessible. "Zine" is
short for "fanzine." The first of these home-made, micro-magazines were started
by science fiction buffs in the 1930’s. Their more common association is with the mostly
white, heavily suburban, punk rock of the late seventies and eighties. With the advent of
that "scene" came a veritable explosion of these small-circulation
self-published journals.Usually produced by youthful "outcasts," in a cryptic cut-and-paste,
xerox-style, zines cover politics, music, psychosis and just about everything else that’s
crawled forth from the deep, shag-rug bowels of the American daydream. Only a sampling of
zine-weirdness can begin to capture the genre:There’s Dishwasher, by "dish washer Pete" whose goal is to wash dishes in all
fifty states, write about it, and have a good time doing it. There’s burning America, the
zine that says "fuck off to all the people who shit on the good things in
life…," but not much else. And making it plain from the feminist-punk perspective
are Riot Grrrrrl and Bikini Kill . For the ultimate outsiders there’s Pathetic Life,
("you’re a geek, just like me") and Loser, "for losers who strive to
lose." The list goes on: barbie doll zines, commie-anarcho zines, whiny little
personal zines, apoplectic with rage zines, Brady Bunch TV cult zines, nazi zines, zines
about zines, and an endless sea of do-it-yourself punk rock music zines; like the one that
provides a diagram of three guitar cords and then advises: "go start a band."And now to cut through this blizzard of smudgy paper and map the multiple political
meanings of "alternative" youth culture we have Notes from Underground Zines and
the Politics of Alternative Culture, by the sharp young scholar and political activist
Steve Duncombe. Despite its unwieldy title, Duncombe’s analysis of zines is fast moving
eloquent, critical, empathetic, and funny all at once. As a zine writer and former punk
rock roadie turned college professor, Duncombe speaks from within the subculture he is
describing. But unlike most cultural analysis of alternative and underground scenes, Notes
is shorn of romanticism and brutally honest. Yet the book is playful enough to celebrate
the humor and cultural sedition of zines.For example, we learn of Crank whose editor "revels in being a jerk, solicits
amateur poetry by pretending to be a literary journal," then reprints the poems, only
to have sport viciously lambasting them. Duncombe, of course, finds this rather nasty.For a more palatable target there’s The I Hate Brenda Newsletter a zine exclusively
devoted to lampooning actress Shannen Doherty, who plays Brenda Walsh in on the nauseating
TV drama Beverly Hills 90210. There’s even a "Shannen Snitch Line," for readers
to phone in slander and gossip.Post-suburban irony aside, Notes has a serious political story to tell. Two
contradictory pressures define the underground world of zines. At one level zines are an
authentic oasis of non-alienated life in the inauthentic, hyper-commodified world of late
capitalism. "[Z]ines and underground culture provide the medium for all people to be
intellectuals — cultural creators– and this is a radical act." Zines encourage a
"participatory culture," an egalitarian do-it-yourself world that flies in the
face of consumerism. Even the distribution of zines is inherently anti-market. Most are
traded for other zines or passed through loose zine reading social networks, thus the flow
of zines stimulates human contact and vault use values over exchange values. For Duncombe,
all of this helps build cultural space that is relatively-autonomous from the pernicious
influences of the profit motive.Zines champion sabotage on the job, stealing from the boss, and the pleasure of
"slack." For many zine writers and punk rockers, zines and iconoclastic music
have been a radicalizing catalyst leading to organized political action. The insularity of
"the scene" can be a steping stone toward real political engagement and
coalition building. But mostly zines reassert the value of life as an ends in and of
itself. "Zines," writes Duncombe, become nonalienated "havens in a
heartless world."But within this homemade Eden slithers the dangerous mercurial force. After decades of
thieving at the edges of the mainstream and romanticizing marginality, these misfit
manifestos have been "discovered" by corporate America."In the last years of the 1980’s and the first few years of the 1990’s, a lost
generation was found," writes Duncombe. "Young people born in the sixties and
seventies were dragged from anonymity and thrown under the spot light." This motley
crew of 18 to 29 year olds were, among other things "a neglected $125 billion dollar
market."This emerging demographic niche — now dubbed Gen. X– was proving hard for advertisers
to nail down. Business Week, Advertising Age and similar publications ruminated on the
"quirky" and cynical tastes of this new generation, that seemed to elude their
grasp. But finally, writes Duncombe, marketers– like zinesters– began to
"understand that what mainstream culture lacks is ‘authenticity.’"The key to the wallets of the young seems be the ironic, low budget motifs of
underground culture. And in no time mock corporate zines, and advertising with an
underground edge, were on the rise. Warner Brothers started the zine Dirt; Coca Cola
launched OK Cola; and Miller Beer is saturating the West Cost with black and white
"Macro-brew" ads, aimed at stealing away young, white hipsters from the
micro-brew market. And thus it was once again that bohemians were reduced to nothing more
than "trade missionaries,"–as the 1920’s critic Malcom Cowley once put it.But Duncombe’s critique goes deeper than charging "sell out" or merely
charting corporate colonialism in the land of the underground. Even with the marketing
onslaught, the underground thrives, zines proliferate, musicians with only a three cord
repertoire still start bands. But does that mean anything politically? It’s a simple but
tough question.Most scholars of bohemia, safely ensconced in the academic juggernaut of cultural
studies, are satisfied divining for, subterranean veins of "resistance." But
Duncombe holds the underground to a higher standard, demanding to know if the zine scene
is as political as it pretends to be. Does it lead to political organizing, movement
building and taking political power?The fact of the matter is, bohemia is frequently rather short sighted, self-absorbed
and unconnected to social change. The politics of zines often degenerates into an effete
cult of marginality. Being politically effective gets in the paramount task of maintaining
one’s "authenticity." Writers routinely celebrate "our freakdom, our
otherness." As one quasi-political zinester Amelia G, put it: "so what if we
horrify the neighbors; we exalt in one another." Even more political but equally
problematic is the blather from theorist Hakim Bey (a.k.a. Peter Landborn Wilson). Bey
argues against formal political organizations, and for "Temporary Autonomous
Zones" which "dissolve" before "state repression" is mobilized.
But as Duncombe points out, such a movement will never have any chance of winning
anything, "for it has no demands, no strategy, and finally no power."Sadly these two fault lines converge. The fuzzy, individualistic,
"freedom-from" politics of the punk inspired underground becomes the preferred
plasma from which to grow market tendrils. "[T]he promiscuity of the commodity,"
writes Duncombe, "demands a libertarian culture." Too often that is all the
underground delivers.
—————————————————————————————————————Christian Parenti teaches Sociology at the New College of California in San Francisco.