The prolific Jean-François Beauchemin, author of around twenty works published over the past two decades, returns with an intimate story centered on two brothers in the fall of their lives.
The younger of the two is 58 years old and has schizophrenia. He is the wren of the title, a small name that his elder writer gave him because he reminded him of the fragile bird of the same name and of a being who rules nothing, barely his own mind.
The essence of the novel is the story, in the tone of an intimate notebook, of this fraternal relationship marked by crises of paranoia, silences, remarks of a lively lucidity and great tenderness. The narrator is the only living being, along with his wife, Livia, and possibly their dog, Pablo, who has the power to do good to the sick. The Lennon cat remains a cat: independent and therefore on the fringes of the story.
With his delicate pen, Jean-François Beauchemin describes a simple country life, full of existential questions, but all the same down to earth. He probes souls, especially his own, in a language that often gives the impression of being more occupied in making oneself beautiful than in ringing true.
This shift gives the story a flat character. He puts a distance between the reflections that inhabit the narrator and the resonance that the writer seeks to give him. This contemplative manner will undoubtedly appeal to readers who appreciate literature at the border between spirituality and philosophy. This short novel will remain in the eyes of others a story punctuated by finds, but too calculated to touch.