Hearth & Coffin Literary Journal, scrappy and ungovernable child of the literary world, passed peacefully surrounded by its editors and readers in January 2025 at the age of 14 issues. Born in Houston during the storied year of 2020 and later relocating to New York City, Hearth & Coffin spent its short but defiant life championing the unchampioned, opening its pages wide to new and upcoming writers without submission fees, gatekeeping, or reverence for literary pedigrees. It believed, perhaps recklessly, that good writing should stand on its own legs, unshackled from MFA programs, industry nepotism, and the dead weight of tradition.

​

Hearth & Coffin is survived by its contributors of whom there are many, its readers of whom are vast, and a scattered collection of editors who now bear the mark of having once tried to tame something untamable. It is preceded in death by countless small presses, fallen comrades in the war against obscurity. Though its body is now still, its words continue to haunt, whispering from the archives to those who dare to listen.

 

In lieu of flowers, please submit something daring to another unruly child of the arts.