Kevin Potvin has cryptically announced that he is stepping back from publishing The Republic of East Vancouver newspaper after almost 10 years of being black and white and read all over the East Side. He pens a pretty lament…

For all the words out there, I think there is room for another one, a word that stands neither for “writing” nor for “reading” but for that thing that happens between the two. It is a sacred thing, maybe like the word for God that Jews can’t or won’t pronounce. Writing something is only one third of it and reading is only another third, and where they meet is a third place where the writer and reader meet, and that is where meaning condenses out of the air like dew on the morning grass.

Read his full and sorta sad explanatory sign off after the leap…

The Republic will be going on a hiatus for a couple of months. I can’t say exactly when it will return.

There are a number of reasons. The chief one is, I can’t find anything to say with conviction anymore. I’ve lost the thrill, I guess. I certainly wouldn’t claim to have said everything that needs saying, but for the time being, I would claim to have at least said everything I am able to say.

I’m exhausted. In the nine-and-a-half years The Republic has been publishing, as near as I can figure I’ve written and published 2 million words. That’s the equivalent of 25 average-sized books. I’ve also printed and distributed 1 million copies of the paper. Another round number emerges: stacked up, the pile would reach pretty much exactly 1 mile high.

I have had an enormous amount of help from a great many people over the years. I’ve enjoyed publishing the editorial contributions of something like 500 different writers. Advertisers and subscribers over the years have made the financial contributions that made the paper physically possible at all.

I took advantage of thousands of people with whom I have had conversations that lead to just about every article I ever wrote. The most repeated phrase I heard back from readers was that they found what The Republic was saying to be very much what they were thinking. But of course: I stole most of my ideas from people telling me what they were thinking!

For all the words out there, I think there is room for another one, a word that stands neither for “writing” nor for “reading” but for that thing that happens between the two. It is a sacred thing, maybe like the word for God that Jews can’t or won’t pronounce. Writing something is only one third of it and reading is only another third, and where they meet is a third place where the writer and reader meet, and that is where meaning condenses out of the air like dew on the morning grass. So finally I have readers to thank if anything of meaning arose from this newspaper in it’s nearly 10-year existence.

Have a good summer. Perhaps I’ll be working on a novel.

Go well, Kevin.

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