The Lit Journal Goes Interactive with Launch of Cuttings

Google's glasses may be set to bring our eyes back up from the tiny screen, but until then we're happily on the path towards having a permanent earthbound gaze. It is no wonder then that our love for the portable, digital universe has caught the imagination of publishers seeking to enhance the quality of our heads-down attention. Enter Branches Publishing and their freshly sprouted, digital-only anthology of new Australian writing, Cuttings.

Having budded from arts app composers The Nest, Branches Publishing launches with a well-designed experience for electronic letter lovers. Cuttings Issue Zero is now available for free on Apple and Android tablets and what you'll download is a time capsule about Australian life in 2013. Editors Angela Bennetts and Alice Fenton (of Even Books) have ensured that this memorial contains the right balance of humour and solemnity from a local suite of talented posteritists*, all presented with wit by senior designer Dave Fernandes.

Every work in Issue Zero is shorter than a Borges and kept to its own page (there will be longer pieces from Issue One onwards in May), which is great news for the scrambled brains of overloaded content junkies. Some pieces are presented as contemporary artefacts, such as Sophie Braham's '2012 Job Description', which efficiently captures the plight of every 20/30-something in a 20km radius. Other works act as framing text for a series of curated hyperlinks — Wilfred Brandt's hypothesis of skateboarding as alien technology and Steph Harmon's historiography of dog fashion both succeed as tap-and-swipe pecha kucha equivalents.

A result of these short pieces occupying their own pages is that your reading slows down. Your eyes will not melt from the fatigue of gleaning conversation pieces out of cluttered content sewers, and in turn you'll calm down enough to actually meditate on the world observed by Cuttings' contributors. This is a world populated by M.B. Windle's graphic epiphany about Hollywood's lies, Tessa Lunney's nostalgic dancers, and Max Lavergne's suggestion of what might happen should a savvy Mexican girl be dropped into the West Bank.

Fernandes and the contributing illustrators and photographers have equally crafted something poetic. Cuttings is attractive in both landscape and portrait, and each piece is augmented by an interface design that reminds readers that they're looking at a tablet and not a print article with some hyperlinks. Two lovely visual effects pop up, for example, in A.H. Cayley's meditation on how ineffectual jacarandas are as barometers, and in Cleo Braithwaite's sketch of impending feline dominion.

One slight tarnish is that as several of the articles are hyperlink-enhanced, you will need an active internet connection on your tablet to gain the full experience of Cuttings. Though copyright does make it difficult to include certain things in the downloaded content — such as a Taylor Swift video clip — Matt Roden's fantastic illustrations are bundled with the issue and pop up within the body of his words with an elegance that could ideally appear throughout the whole publication.

That said, Cuttings has launched with an auspicious debut and stands to only gain in quality as it opens its submissions to a horde of head-bowed Australian talent.

*this will be a real word when the time capsule is unearthed