Changing the First Line of my Book

On Compromising on Your Art

Now that I'm 30, I'm compromising on my art to make it more palatable.

I'm changing the first line of Animal Harm from:

These people exist to rape and pillage; without it they cannot see, without it they cannot distinguish, loveless instantiation, that’s all they are, all they could have been, and all they’ll ever be; any kindness you pay them they take as an affront to their pride––the pornographic shame which they’ll use to spur the fervor of their instinct: until everything is in its place.

To

These people have existed since the beginning of time; they've never changed, will never change, and no amount of time, culture, education, class consciousness, riches, technology, or even miscegenation will prevent them from meaning harm.

The second sounds better, is more aesthetically pleasing, is more in line with the character who is speaking it, is clearer, more foreboding, more emotionally resonant, less aggressive for the beginning of a book, less triggering, etc.

But I don't think it's as philosophically rigorous or philosophically engaging. But it's a book of literature, not philosophy. But there's a sadness there, I guess.

I don't think I wrote that initial line to be edgy, or to scare people. I'm not against the theory that writing is a projection of the self at the moment in time. I do believe in the muse. So does that mean I was angry then? I guess society does enough of taking men's anger seriously. But this is a pig, not a human being, or at least that's the book's conceit.

The pig is saying that without causing harm or feeling harm, these people cannot distinguish. They only believe that something is real if it has a physical sensation. Beowulf's response to Grendel's cartesian skepticism was to smash him against a wall. Reality as stress, to cause harm is to instantiate reality in the mind of these people.

Feel the wall: is it not hard? He smashes me against it. Hard, yes! Observe the hardness, write it down in careful runes. Now, sing of walls! Sing!

(Grendel, John Gardner)

Without the "practicality" of harm, without the hymn of walls, they have no answer to cartesian skepticism––all of reality falls apart. Instead of taking a leap of faith in art, or god, or love, they rape the world into form. Unless you think being smashed up against a wall as a response to a valid concern is a consensual thing.

If we can only ever really write about ourselves. Both the pig and I were angry at that intuition. Has the world eroded me enough that I'm not as angry anymore?

They say to be angry is to poison yourself, so have I calmed down? But I'm more self-destructive now than I've ever been. Maybe I'm angrier now. Maybe I was paying the hicks a kindness to use language they'd never understand, using language that would secretly excite them, the clandestine joy at seeing the word "rape," an image: a fantasy. There's a normalization when you desensitize people to the harm of raping and pillaging; when you use it in art, write the words and let someone read them, a subconscious acceptance of its existence, its speak-ability (that’s a theory anyway). Bricked up, to moan the hymn of walls, that (boy| knee|ass|pussy|double chin|ear|elbow|mouth|toe|hand|nose|eye) pussy feels so good, you're so tight baby, to be fucked up against a wall; it's what gives their life meaning: the hardness of walls, a release for pornographic shame; I mean if that's all that you are why feel shame, why try to make someone feel shame, what's the point in scolding a bear for barking?

After all, whose the audience of the line? The pig's child. But if they believe that these people will never change, what's the point of saying it? Is this their way of standing up against injustice? But if it will never change... I don't think art has a political utility; it's like philosophy in that manner. If you're trying to make the world a certain way, and your art is a modus operandi for changing people's minds, wouldn't some sort of scientific device or material condition obliviate that (from their perspective)? Your art becomes a method used to move people. But weapons move people, and people exist to uncover weapons. it’s conditionally valuable, conditional on this weapon not being found (that’s the theory anyway). But I think art is essential. Is it cathartic to speak a truth that will never change? Artistic?

But the second one. I'm using language that plays into everyone's primordial fear, the greatest fear about what they are. That they're the same rapists and donkey fuckers that walked across Pangea. That they're the same as their forefathers who lived in backwards times. Because you can't rape and pillage forever, eventually the victim dies, and eventually, you die, and if nothing ever changes, then they really did it for no reason. My dad did all that for nothing? My mom went through all that for nothing? I did all that for nothing? And what's left after all that?

The History of Harm in Animals. Animal Harm.