The Wren, The Wren
R.E.M.’s album Green came out when I was in 7th grade — that was my “entry point” to the band. I nearly wore out my tape, lovingly dubbed by a friend, except there were all these whispers about it being a commercial sellout, but what did I know? I think it’s common to have a sweet affinity for the “thing” that introduces us to an artist, musician, writer. Often, we explore the back catalogue and then abhor anything that comes after our own particular entry point. It took me a long time to appreciate that Out of Time is, actually, a brilliant album. (Despite Shiny Happy People, which you know we all secretly love…)
I read Anne Enright’s latest, The Wren, The Wren. I *adore* Anne Enright. I’ve read The Gathering (Booker winner), The Last Waltz, and What Are You Like? I heard Enright speak (along with John Banville and Roddy Doyle) at a small event for volunteers at the creative writing center where I volunteered, I saw her drive down my road (kismet!), I’ve gobbled up every interview I’ve come across. That said, I’m glad The Wren, The Wren wasn’t my “entry point” to her work. The first half or so, I was wondering if I really do like her. Her latest novel — an exploration of family dynamics using a famous Irish poet (grand)father as the fulcrum — felt a bit scattered to me. Toss in unlikable characters while we’re at it.
But was I just wanting a re-do of my favorites?
Toward the end, I saw it. I saw how Enright explores the idea of poetry in relation to a homeland. How we infuse written prose (even text messages) with disingenuous emotion. How communication changes through the years, but our tethered connection to our family does not. How easy it is for a man to hold all the cards. Also, was the aforementioned stereotypically Irish poet really just sort of an Irish “influencer” of the time? The Wren, The Wren is good, and maybe even great. The published reviews I’ve read bear this out as well. I’m not sure what you’d think if Wren was your first Enright. (This is why book recos are so tricky.)
It takes a while for us to shake off our obsessive fan feelings in order to embrace new work. Any other “entry point” anecdotes? (Either books or music!)
originally published on instagram