Sure, Granta’s been around a while, and The Paris Review is fine and well. But what about when you want to read something new? I mean, really new. So new that you’ve never heard of its contributors, and aren’t sure how to pronounce their names? There are a lot of small literary journals out there, but not too many that consistently get it so right. The New York Tyrant is one of the few.

Willing to risk publishing high-quality fiction from undiscovered talent, the Tyrant offers short fiction from writers you might not have heard of…yet. It’s stocked in plenty of bookstores around the city — including Spoonbill & Sugartown and St. Mark’s Bookshop — and if you can’t track one down, purchasing it straight from the site is also an option.

This means you have no real excuse for not taking a risk with your end-of-summer reading. We can tell you right now: The book about the guy who used to be a drug addict, then sobered up, got a fancy job even though he was a drug addict, and then fell off the wagon and became a drug addict again isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.