Cult (1)
36.
The edit committee learned about “Soop” earlier than anyone had expected. With the exception of Chief Editor Im, they were all professors. And each of them had their loyal henchmen—their assistants.
The assistants were the first to sound the alarm about Soop’s appearance. Yeo Song-yeon, a critic and professor in Korean literature, spread the account’s address into the committee’s group chat.
After that, Soop’s influence kept growing.
Once Park Jeong-shin linked every publishing house and writer under the sun, Soop’s presence spread like wildfire. The edit committee’s group chat was no different.
Everyone went quiet.
That was a fairly important discussion. The difference a theme made in a quarterly journal was enormous. Without a theme, they had relative freedom. But once there was a theme, both writers and critics had to produce work that fit it.
In other words, the most important thing—the commissions—depended on it. At any rate, that was as far as it went.
Chief Editor Im told me the whole story. “Both sides have a point. As you know, Gyeongseong Geul doesn’t usually set a theme. But when something becomes an issue in literary circles... Gyeongseong Geul does assign a theme and dip its toes into it.”
“...”
“But this time, it’s a little tricky. If we handle it badly, we could end up in a pointless war of attrition with the independent magazines. They want to draw a hard line between themselves and the mainstream literary world.”
I remained calm. In fact, Chief Editor Im had been suspecting that I was Soop.
That razor-sharp one-line review and the knack for drawing attention?
There wasn’t anyone else who could have done it but me.
At least, not as far as he knew. But to press me on it now would have been pointless. The real question was what Gyeongseong Geul should do about it.
“What would you like to do, Chief Editor?” I asked him, turning the question back on him.
He answered without hesitation. “We should do it. If you avoid doing what you need to do just because a fight might break out, what’s the point?”
He seemed to like that answer. A faint smile touched my lips.
That was when Chief Editor Im became certain.
It’s you, isn’t it? Soop.
I had drawn the literary world’s attention toward independent magazines.
Why?
Because I wanted to expand my territory as a critic, probably. And the result had been a success.
Now I could review independent magazine works in Gyeongseong Geul.
No one would find it strange.
That was where the literary world was heading already.
“Yes. I agree with you as well, Chief Editor. If that’s the direction the literary world is taking, then Gyeongseong Geul should follow it too.”
The way I spoke as if I were discussing someone else’s business was rather shameless.
And yet—
“At the same time, I think we need to be careful.”
“Careful?”
“Yes. If we make the theme independent magazines outright, there will be backlash no matter what. If we include negative reviews, that goes without saying. Even if we only write positive ones, people will say, ‘You ignored us until now, and suddenly you’re paying attention?’”
“Gyeongseong Geul can handle that.”
“Can it? Wouldn’t it be better if it didn’t have to?”
How? “We tilt the theme slightly toward literary theory instead.”
“For example?”
“Cult.”
Chief Editor Im’s eyes widened. Cult.
Surprisingly, the word’s origin was cult religion.
But nowadays it had become a fully legitimate artistic category: cult film, cult literature, cult music, and so on.
Art that prized the unusual, the bizarre, the unfashionable.
In other words, a term covering art outside the mainstream. The artistic orientation of independent magazines would also fall under “cult.”
“The popularity of independent magazines could end at any time. As the committee is worried, it may only be temporary. If we set the theme as ‘independent magazines,’ then the moment that popularity dies down, the lifespan of Gyeongseong Geul’s summer issue dies with it. But if the theme is ‘cult,’ the story changes.”
“...”
“Because ‘cult’ isn’t a passing trend. It’s a bona fide artistic category, and it’s already widely discussed in mainstream academia.”
He was right. “I see. In that case, both writers and critics would feel less burdened. And we wouldn’t need to worry about awkwardly reading the mood of the independent magazines.”
“Yes.” I laughed softly. “Frankly, independent magazines haven’t leased out the rights to cult.”
I had spoken lightly, almost as a joke, but I had struck at the core of the matter. If independent magazines wanted to draw a line between us, then we should deal with a theme so vast it could swallow even that line whole. Of course, that only worked if we had the ability to do it.
“If cult is approved as the theme, are you planning to cover fiction from the independent magazines?”
“Hmm.” I paused for a moment. “No. I’m not all that interested. I’d like to deal with something other than fiction.”
“!...For example?”
“I’m not sure yet. The theme hasn’t even been approved.”
“Very well. At any rate, I understand your thoughts. I’ll discuss it with the other committee members.”
“Yes. Thank you for asking for my opinion.” I stood up readily. After I left, Chief Editor Im was a little confused.
Cult was an excellent idea.
But apart from that, he found it strange. What, he thought I was going to put my own name on the line and tackle independent magazines directly?
Once Gyeongseong Geul’s summer issue succeeded, wouldn’t I simply reveal that Soop was me?
Then I’d be recognized by both the literary world and the independent magazines.
What on earth is he thinking, and how far ahead is he planning? He couldn’t read my mind at all. Meanwhile, I strolled back to my office.
I changed my mind.
When I first created Soop, I had planned to use it to shape the trend and then, through Gyeongseong Geul, begin seriously critiquing independent magazines. But Soop had done better than I’d expected.
Even though I’d only posted a dozen or so reviews, the follower count kept climbing, and the literary world kept getting rattled.
In other words, it was still growing. If I revealed that I’m Soop now, that growth might stop. That’d be a little too wasteful. And there was one more thing.
I was enjoying myself on Soop.
The anonymity.
The freedom to deal with anything.
Things like that thrilled me. So I decided to ride the current Soop had created, while postponing the reveal that I was the person behind it. That was why I proposed the theme of cult.
I was already busy carrying over anything useful from independent magazines into Soop.
If the theme became cult, I could handle not just independent magazines but other genres as well.
In fact, a heavy theme like cult might suit Gyeongseong Geul better anyway.
So, in the end, the conclusion was simple: Let’s make the stage a little bigger. Then I can make better use of Soop.
I could picture it clearly.
The day would come when the owner of the now much larger Soop was finally revealed.
If I played my cards right, something rather wonderful might happen.
Until then, I would let the matter ripen properly.
The more important something was, the more care it deserved.
─┼
I was invited to a critics’ gathering.
It was one of those meetings I’d already shown my face at a few times. Social life was such a nuisance. If I’d been a freelancer, I would have skipped it without a second thought.
But I considered the reputation of dear Gyeongseong Publishing.
If people started saying Mok Hyunsun had no social graces, wouldn’t Gyeongseong Publishing catch flak too?
In any case, we met at a buffet in a hotel.
I was told some newspaper had sponsored it, but I didn’t really care.
I just started eating in earnest.
Eight critics sat around the round table.
They were “rookies” who had debuted within the last three years.
Given the circumstances, they were all seniors to me. And, as always, that topic came up.
“Soop keeps posting reviews of independent magazines, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Empire of the Senses still hasn’t let up. Where does he keep finding these works?”
“The follower count’s rising like crazy. I’ve been on Review Insta for over a year, and I’m jealous as hell.”
He slapped his napkin down onto the plate.
I’d thought this before, but he was unusually rude. Still, I felt sorry for the napkin and decided to give him some advice of my own.
“Then you should try doing something similar, sir. Stir up attention the right way.”
If you’re envious of popularity, imitate it. That’s all social media really is.
“Critic Mok. You should know better than to say something like that.”
“What do I know?”
“How can a critic’s pride allow him to review independent magazines that aren’t even part of the literary mainstream? That Soop guy is probably nothing more than some nobody who’s read a few books.”
What nonsense.
I didn’t especially like Jang Hee-soo, but even she had more sincerity than the napkin did. Smiling, I said, “An unpublished writer who actually does something is better than a published one who spends months floating around like a nobody without producing a single thing.”
A published writer who spends months floating around like a nobody without producing a single thing.
If you just changed “writer” to “critic,” that was exactly him. The napkin’s neck turned bright red.
He couldn’t exactly argue with me, so he turned pleadingly to the others.
“No, really, what do all of you think? Is it right for people to pour so much attention into that amateur writing?”
“It shouldn’t be allowed. If those troublesome independent magazines keep trending, it’ll be a problem for us.”
“Exactly. The moment we say anything about independent magazines, they come charging at us. Honestly, there’s no respect for critics anymore.”
A whole pack of foxes whining about sour grapes.
And they had quite the talent for taking shots at things, too. As far as I could tell, public opinion was more or less split in half.
Half of them were sensible: “If the current is going that way, then we have to acknowledge it.”
The other half, including the napkin, put on hopelessly inflated airs: “If the current is wrong, then we critics need to set it straight.”
And as always in this world, the loud ones were louder.
The napkin bared red-rimmed eyes. “Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone in independent magazines doing real art. That cult spirit of theirs? It’s the same thing.”
“Come on. Cult has already been established as a valid artistic theory,” someone objected.
That only made the napkin flare up. “Ha! Since when did cult start getting treated like art? It’s a bunch of fake-religion lunatics, isn’t it? What kind of art can you make out of that? True art is—!”
I had no intention of listening to his long-winded theory of art.
I shut him out and kept eating, when—buzz.
A message came in.
Seeing Chief Editor Im’s name on my phone, the person next to me asked excitedly, “Do you text with Chief Editor Im too?”
“Wow, that’s so Gyeongseong Publishing of you. To be in contact with such a senior...”
“What did he say?”
I checked the message and gave a small snort of laughter.
“Why are you laughing? Tell us.”
“May I?”
“Of course.”
You’re going to regret this.
“He says the theme for Gyeongseong Geul’s summer issue has been decided.”
“Oh! What is it? Did they already settle the commissions too? Could I possibly—”
The napkin leaned in shamelessly.
He was so blatant that several people frowned.
But what could I do?
Even if it’s possible for everyone else, it’s not for you.
“This issue’s theme is cult, apparently. Is that okay with you?”
Needless to say, the napkin’s face went beet-red.