A banner with an orange background dusted with crushed spices around the outer edges and chopped chilli. In the centre is the cover of The Suburban Review #30 SPICE. At the top of the cover, inside a pale orange square, in a matching pale orange font is the title: “The Suburban Review #30 SPICE”. The bottom of the image is a photo of steel tea kettles sitting on a fire, coals burning underneath. There are hues of black, brown, and amber— flames are emerging to the left side of the kettles, and grass appears to be burning; lighting up the left side of the image orange. In the bottom right corner there are some light-painting squiggles in a neon orange— as if someone has waved a burning sparkler across the image. There’s an ambience of warmth, of being drawn in close.

Enjoy feeling a little hot under the collar? Looking for something to warm your body and soul from the inside as we move through the longest nights of winter? Look no further than #30: SPICE—filled with searing poetry, fiction, comics, non-fiction, and illustration.

Warm your toes by the inviting coals of Ella Ballhausen’s campfire cover before slipping them into Lia Dewey Morgan’s tear-filled kitchen and history of exploitation(s). Experience ‘this dust and sizzle place’ as Brian Obiri-Asare converses with a father far away. Handle with caution the barely contained rage in Kerry Shying’s account of ‘post-pandemic’ life.

Settle into the lives, needs, and failures of a makeshift family with Edmario Lesi, set against Mia Guerrieri’s visualisation of the narrative. Indulge in some hot gossip with Tayla Colley, before returning to a summer of sweat, freckles, and adolescent desire with Dominic Symes. Experience the sharp discomfort of Daniel Ray’s account of a young relationship’s birth and death. (Re)live the shame and guilt of girlhood with Donnalyn Xu, before recalling the smells of home and memory with Lawdenmarc Decamora.