Letter From The Editor

Dear readers,

I’m writing this letter in the same place I do most of my writing, beside my favorite window in my home looking out onto our snowy little corner in Minneapolis. About 500 feet away from where I sit my yoga instructor guards the door of a beloved neighborhood taco spot. Nothing about this feels normal and nothing about this feels okay. 

The woman who taught me how to more graciously (or as graciously as I can manage) transition from a down dog, to a forward fold, and a warrior two is just one of several neighbors I see more frequently now during overlapping patrols protecting the people, places, and spaces we’re proud to call home. When we pass each other during these volunteer shifts that feel a hell of a lot more like duty, we say hello just a little bit longer. We hug just a little bit tighter. No one asks ‘how are you?’ anymore, instead replacing it with ‘it’s nice to see you,’ and even as the world crumbles around us, hearing those words from someone you care about through the cold air can provide all the warmth needed to get through the rest of the day. To get yourself to tomorrow, to wake up and fight, and protect, and patrol, and resist all over again. A small something to hold onto.

In search of more to hold onto, I’ve read more epistolary writing in the last few weeks than I did all of last year, and perhaps over the last few years combined. It’s not because of some new discovery, or some New Year’s Resolution to honor the lost form of letter writing. It’s because, like most Minnesotans in 2026, I’m asked multiple times a day from folks doing their best to be loving and supportive from afar some form of, ‘how are things going?’ and thankfully, the good people at Lit Hub publishing their Letters from Minnesota series have provided a perfect place to direct such questions. 

These letters not only provide a firsthand account of what it’s really like here on the ground in federally occupied Minnesota in ways not shown on the national news, but also celebrate our rich and vibrant literary community. A community that is held dear by the three editors behind this little-engine-of-a-literary-journal-that-could, who all found each other, and in turn found and founded this journal, at a little writing program in Saint Paul.

A few days ago my mentor and advisor in that very same writing program, Angela Pelster wrote on the many heartbreaking details that have been forced into the lives of Minnesotans during these heartbreaking weeks. The day before this issue went live, Marcie Rendon wrote on how The Dakota and Anishinaabe tribes paved the way for Minnesotans to be a people born and bred of organizers. Under Review Issue 12 contributor Michael Kleber-Diggs wrote a few days ago on how ‘Normalcy is impossible here. Normalcy is violence.’ And of course, Bao Phi, who wrote about sitting through a 25th anniversary screening of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers hours after federal agents murdered Alex Pretti in the streets, and 17 days after a federal agent murdered Renee Good in the streets, and the collective sob that overcame the audience during Samwise Gamgee’s iconic delivery that, “There’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for.” 

I won’t pretend that editing the 13th issue of the Under Review through the days of this occupation of terror has not been hard. Like Bao, I’ve tried to find solace in that ever so poignant Tolkien monologue and try to find the same courage Samwise found in the rubble of Osgiliath in the face of the Nazgul. Though another moment from The Two Towers has fueled me during this time. Early in the occupation, friend and writer Peter Pearson posted to his Facebook page, “You know what it feels like in Minnesota right now? The fury of the Ents. They have awoken something they do not understand and are definitely not ready for.”  

The collective fury has not subsided and is more organized than ever. From Minneapolis to Mordor, and from Saint Paul to The Shire. This same fury is behind these pages of the Under Review. An issue of courage, spirit, community, and heart, in all the ways those beautiful things show up through our collective love of literature and sport. Pages representing the good in this world. Pages worth fighting for. 

Abolish ICE.

Terry Horstman

CNF Editor of the Under Review

Minneapolis, February 2026