If you care about Australian writing as something contested rather than commemorated, this is how you keep it in circulation.

Meanjin has always occupied a particular position: institutional enough to endure, sharp enough to argue with itself.

Literary journals don’t disappear all at once. They thin out. They lose pages, funding, editorial slack. They become careful where they once took risks. What remains valuable is the continuity — the sense of thought unfolding across issues, arguments picked up, dropped, contradicted, revised.

These issues still hold work that hasn’t settled yet. Voices not smoothed into brandable consensus. Essays and stories that feel mid-conversation rather than posthumously approved.

I’m selling these as a stack because that’s how they function best; as a small archive of momentum rather than five isolated artefacts. They belong on a desk, not behind glass.

Priced as a set, not split.