If love is power, a
kind of soft power, it is also true that real power, the kind that makes the
job possible, can only operate in secret. When you show your hand you also
weaken it. A secret, even when revealed, undermines all certainty, since there
might well be more destabilizing secrets to come. I am confident. I will
prevail, I know I will prevail, for if I lose their love, if the job crumbles, I
have at the very least succeeded in weakening their resolve. I have created
suspicions where before there was mainly trust. Then we all know what will
occur. It will only take a moment before I completely disappear. (“The Infiltrator”)
Originally
produced in a limited run for “Authors for Indies Day,” May 2, 2015, Jacob Wren’s
small collection of two short stories and an essay, If our wealth is criminal then let’s live with the criminal joy ofpirates (Toronto ON: BookThug, 2015), explores the nature and purpose of art,
and a search for meaning through daily and ongoing activity. In the story, “Four
Letters from an Ongoing Series,” the narrator, a writer, moves through the
normal course of a series of days to return home to yet another rejection
letter, and wonders exactly what the point of it all might be. The collection
ends with the essay “Like a Priest Who Has Lost Faith: Notes on art, meaning,
emptiness and spirituality,” that begins:
IS IT TRUE THAT TODAY,
in casual conversation, artists often speak about wanting to have a career, but
rarely speak about wanting to make something meaningful? Or is this casual
observation only my cynicism rising to the surface? In the most general sense,
the hope that art can be meaningful in people’s lives brings it very close to
the spiritual, and this might be one of the many reasons the topic is often
avoided. If I say I want a career (which, of course, I do as much as any
artist) I might come across as ambitious, but there is also something practical
and down-to-earth in my pronouncement. If I say I want to make something
meaningful it is a higher style of arrogance, more old fashioned, less critical
and therefore less contemporary. The desire to make something meaningful brings
along with it a thousand small distastes and taboos.
Wren’s
ongoing work, including the novels Unrehearsed Beauty (Toronto ON: Coach House Books, 1998), Families are Formed Through Copulation (Toronto ON: Pedlar Press,
2007), Revenge Fantasies of the Politically Dispossessed (Pedlar Press, 2010) and Polyamorous Love Song (BookThug, 2014), often explore how to live a
meaningful and productive life, loneliness and solitude, the purpose of art, and
a series of intimate human interactions, articulated both through a cynical,
yet furiously optimistic, and even innocent, open gaze. Wren routinely prods at
a series of very large and human questions on just how it is we should and
could be moving through the world in a positive and productive way,
highlighting just how complicated such uncomplicated it actually is. Listen to the
narrator of the story “Four Letters from an Ongoing Series,” for example, after
reading a scathing critique of a rejected manuscript:
I lie in bed filled
with doubts of every kind. And yet, if I’m honest with myself, I strangely don’t
doubt my work all that much. I have to write the books I have to write. If
every single publisher in the world thinks they’re shit then so be it. Of
course it feels bad now but I’m sure I’ve seen worse and perhaps there is even
worse to come. Right now, somewhere in the world, someone is being tortured and
someone else is being bombed. How much do a few pages of critical words
directed at me really hurt when stacked up against even a sliver of the horrors
possible in the world? I’m going to keep writing books, I try to tell myself,
no sure I’m still completely awake or if I’m already drifting off to sleep. And
if not, maybe it’s still not too late to find some other thing to do with my
life.
And
for those who missed out on the short run of this title, apparently BookThug is
producing more copies soon, claiming that orders keep coming in. There is still
hope.
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