All About the Zine! A review of The End of Times by Jenny Dickieson
***
Have you read a zine lately?
It’s not a regular habit of mine, but I recently took a time out from my schedule, put down my ever-present devices and made time to read a zine from the creative mind of artist and writer Jenny Dickieson. It’s called The End of Times, it’s local to me in Vancouver BC and she drops finished copies at local venues for all to read. She’s published the first three issues, with more on the way. Dickeison’s short, original zine is full of fun facts, quick maker-projects, creative non-fiction and poetry–and some whimsical esoterica!–and is perfect to read over a cup of steaming tea.
Let’s take the first issue, which was published in Spring 2025. There’s so much on the literary menu here: a book review (Circe by Madeline Miller, which Dickieson adored and ties into the theme of spring gardening!), a comic, and a poem. The poem is called “Sea Rye Sing” and is one of those verses that need to be read in its entirety to grasp Dickieson’s clever and exciting use of language and theme. (“In the morning, before it’s light, / I check the dough; / it’s swollen. See? Rising.”)
There was also a tiny plastic bag of wildflower seeds delicately stapled to the page to accompany her “ode to: Rainy Day Activities," a combo of art and ideas on the front page. Things like gaming (Stardew Valley is a favourite); going to the library to read Reddit while pretending to study; and germinating sprouts. And yes, I have planted the wildflower seeds and am currently checking my planter daily for the first signs of green.
Dickieson’s writing is a pleasure to read; her short articles are emotionally evocative and relatable and got me thinking. In the Summer 2025 issue of The End of Times (No. 2), “Touch Grass” is a piece that explores the Cottingley Fairies, a series of photographic hoaxes from the early twentieth century–during the horror that was WWI in England–where two young girls used their Midg camera to take pictures of fairies that they had made from paper cutouts, in their garden. Folks thought they were real, which seems naive now, and it was outed later as a hoax, though not particularly intentional by the girls. But Dickieson writes:
“I’m not so quick to judge those who believed, or the girls themselves. Our generation has its own changelings to deal with. The Midg camera of the future is arguably our cell phones, the capacity to make and share images instantly offered among the rest of its powerful gonzo-carnival-of-everything capacity.”
The latest issue is Fall 2025 (No. 3) and there is a self-revelatory piece by Dickeison about her life with Tarot and how she learned from her mom and female relatives. Tarot has been sometimes further from her daily life, and sometimes–like now–closer once again. It’s the best kind of short essay in that it led to my own foray into self-reflection; I felt in conversation with her ideas. There’s also a great short piece on “decomposing” in the fall called “Succumb to the Horrors of Late Autumn,” by Fran Motta. “The sweet sting of candy in my teeth is a reminder of the potential for rot. The dwindling year, if written as a story, in its final pages.”
There’s art too, and it’s sometimes whimsical, a shadow or glyph on a page; sometimes fully realized into a comic panel. Dickieson has some serious graphic design chops and it shows in the gestalt of the publication. The zine has a friendly, welcoming feel and clearly its audience is basically everyone.
As I read, it wasn’t only the writing and art that captured me, it was also the tangible act of holding the zine in my hands, of taking time off the phone, of feeling the paper. Each issue can be read cover to cover in a sitting, and the variety in a mere four or five pages makes it seem like a discovery. It felt analog, and that’s pretty cool. I have to let Dickieson’s words take centre stage here, again from the Cottingly Fairy article:
“There’s a quiet power in making something by hand–in stepping outside, spending time in nature, and grounding yourself in material practice. To write, to collage, to make pictures, or poems, or films, or music, or whatever it is you make with intention is to reclaim your imagination from the algorithmic churn of content. It’s rebellion.”
I love this sentiment so much. It captures the essence of sitting with a zine that was conceived, written, collected, drawn and printed by someone with the drive to make something that captures ideas onto pages that anyone who comes across it can interact with.
If you want to read The End of Times, you can peruse the transcripts online at itsjenny.ca, but you’ll be missing the art and layout. You can also purchase a copy there. If you’re a lucky Vancouver local, you’ll find them in select cafes and the Mount Pleasant branch of the Vancouver Public Library a couple of times per year.
Have you read a zine lately?
It’s not a regular habit of mine, but I recently took a time out from my schedule, put down my ever-present devices and made time to read a zine from the creative mind of artist and writer Jenny Dickieson. It’s called The End of Times, it’s local to me in Vancouver BC and she drops finished copies at local venues for all to read. She’s published the first three issues, with more on the way. Dickeison’s short, original zine is full of fun facts, quick maker-projects, creative non-fiction and poetry–and some whimsical esoterica!–and is perfect to read over a cup of steaming tea.
Let’s take the first issue, which was published in Spring 2025. There’s so much on the literary menu here: a book review (Circe by Madeline Miller, which Dickieson adored and ties into the theme of spring gardening!), a comic, and a poem. The poem is called “Sea Rye Sing” and is one of those verses that need to be read in its entirety to grasp Dickieson’s clever and exciting use of language and theme. (“In the morning, before it’s light, / I check the dough; / it’s swollen. See? Rising.”)
There was also a tiny plastic bag of wildflower seeds delicately stapled to the page to accompany her “ode to: Rainy Day Activities," a combo of art and ideas on the front page. Things like gaming (Stardew Valley is a favourite); going to the library to read Reddit while pretending to study; and germinating sprouts. And yes, I have planted the wildflower seeds and am currently checking my planter daily for the first signs of green.
Dickieson’s writing is a pleasure to read; her short articles are emotionally evocative and relatable and got me thinking. In the Summer 2025 issue of The End of Times (No. 2), “Touch Grass” is a piece that explores the Cottingley Fairies, a series of photographic hoaxes from the early twentieth century–during the horror that was WWI in England–where two young girls used their Midg camera to take pictures of fairies that they had made from paper cutouts, in their garden. Folks thought they were real, which seems naive now, and it was outed later as a hoax, though not particularly intentional by the girls. But Dickieson writes:
“I’m not so quick to judge those who believed, or the girls themselves. Our generation has its own changelings to deal with. The Midg camera of the future is arguably our cell phones, the capacity to make and share images instantly offered among the rest of its powerful gonzo-carnival-of-everything capacity.”
The latest issue is Fall 2025 (No. 3) and there is a self-revelatory piece by Dickeison about her life with Tarot and how she learned from her mom and female relatives. Tarot has been sometimes further from her daily life, and sometimes–like now–closer once again. It’s the best kind of short essay in that it led to my own foray into self-reflection; I felt in conversation with her ideas. There’s also a great short piece on “decomposing” in the fall called “Succumb to the Horrors of Late Autumn,” by Fran Motta. “The sweet sting of candy in my teeth is a reminder of the potential for rot. The dwindling year, if written as a story, in its final pages.”
There’s art too, and it’s sometimes whimsical, a shadow or glyph on a page; sometimes fully realized into a comic panel. Dickieson has some serious graphic design chops and it shows in the gestalt of the publication. The zine has a friendly, welcoming feel and clearly its audience is basically everyone.
 |
| Jenny Dickieson (photo: Marcus Ristich) |
“There’s a quiet power in making something by hand–in stepping outside, spending time in nature, and grounding yourself in material practice. To write, to collage, to make pictures, or poems, or films, or music, or whatever it is you make with intention is to reclaim your imagination from the algorithmic churn of content. It’s rebellion.”
I love this sentiment so much. It captures the essence of sitting with a zine that was conceived, written, collected, drawn and printed by someone with the drive to make something that captures ideas onto pages that anyone who comes across it can interact with.
If you want to read The End of Times, you can peruse the transcripts online at itsjenny.ca, but you’ll be missing the art and layout. You can also purchase a copy there. If you’re a lucky Vancouver local, you’ll find them in select cafes and the Mount Pleasant branch of the Vancouver Public Library a couple of times per year.
***
Stay tuned for my Author Chat with Jenny Dickieson coming to the blog soon!
Comments
Post a Comment