So, in the National Post today, Mark Medley, the Books Editor, interviews Junot Diaz and Michael Chabon together. (They both ordered the niçoise salad, he reports – you do have to eat smart on tour).
Diaz is quoted at the very end: ‘… because they’re genre writers they’re not going to get a f-king profile in the New York Times.’ (The discreet dash in f-king is the Post, not me!) Diaz and Chabon earlier were asked if the response to genre fiction wasn’t at least improving and both thought not. Diaz said, ‘I don’t think it’s changing at all, I think it’s worse … Name me a genre writer who’s won a Guggenheim. Name me a genre writer who’s won a National Book Award.’
(Mark Helprin comes to mind for a Guggenheim, but that’s not the point, and he only wrote one major fantasy.)
I hate the fact that I am older than both those guys. Been there, seen that? Diaz is whip-smart and a very fine writer. But I think he’s wrong in refusing to acknowledge that even if the speed may seem geological at times, literary culture is evolving just as popular culture is.
It is possible to see writers like those two, or Atwood, McCarthy, Jennifer Egan, Justin Cronin as ‘colonizers’ of genre from mainstream and there’s no question it is easier getting credibility moving in that direction than from being rooted in genre (any genre), but the mere fact that colonization of this sort (I’m using the word reluctantly, I prefer to talk about the blurring of borders or boundaries) happens carries a message.
So does the growing awareness within genre that writing that aspires to excellence isn’t some kind of lame pandering to the Muggles, to steal a J.K. Rowling term. Yes, there are holdouts in all camps. SF writers and readers who are irked and turned off by literary focus or ambition. Academics and judges and critics who reflexively avert their sensitive eyes from the dismal horror of genre books (or even the stressing of narrative verve) … and there always will be! But the numbers and percentages are changing for the better. I absolutely believe that. (I also believe that genuinely excellent work is as rare as it always has been, and we do ourselves no favours by trumpeting the capable – or the merely new – as brilliant.)
Change in what is regarded as canonical or important is going to be slow. It isn’t even so terrible that it is, actually. Trends can carry too much momentum, distort our judgement. (Same is true of the law … it needs to lag a bit behind fast societal shifts, lest it bounce around too much when the society shifts back again.)
Yes, major awards for truly genre-grounded works are rare. Yes, when certain critics find themselves admiring a fantasy they must posthaste name it magic realism. (A pet peeve here.) But my own sense was and is closer to what Medley seemed to be looking for and not getting from his two interview subjects: change is happening, the landscape is evolving, just to stay with my ‘geological’ metaphor. It is better now than five years ago, and was better five years ago than twenty-five.
Also, for what it is worth, I kind of doubt the ’12 other novelists writing zombie novels’ that Diaz mentions (in the context of Cronin’s exalted status) all merit individual profiles in the NY Times. I also doubt he’d really argue they do. The emergence of some writers, artists, musicians, filmmakers in a given time as either pop culture or high culture ‘stars’ can involve many elements, and talent is only one of them.
Still, go read The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay. Talent may be only one element, but it shines in both those books.
I tried posting on Sunday morning. It doesn’t seem to have gone through. It was via my mobile so I’m just sending this through to check if the problem may be on my end.
Unfortunately I can’t recapture the rhythm of my previous post as it was witten in the heat and spirit of my first read through of Mr.Kay’s Journal entry.
From memory the gist of it was that for me what is illustrated above is something I find very frustrating in all walks of life and seems endemic to being human.
That is the need to feel superior in some shape or form.
There are deep rooted issues still,in our contemporary world of supposedly mature minded individuals congregating into groups who are, at best, recidivistically prejudicial and at worst, blindly compromised by their inability to think logically beyond their preconceived notions.
Deeper problems in society stem from these positions but I will remain specific to what I read above.
I have not read either author Mr. Kay mentions but find the attitude they display – as noted above – exasperating. It is a sort of reverse prejudice against those who are prejudiced against them (with no forgiveness on the horizon).
Perhaps one can lose oneself within the whorls of circumlocution in the publishing world, but I would have thought carping about the absence of awards as an example of the absence of regard, while disingenuously decrying the relevance of the awards themselves, is at best defeatist and at worst irrelevant.
Having said that, isn’t being published reward enough? Your words are out there to be consumed and yes, judged by readers. I would then hope a logical correspondence can be entered into as to the merits of the work, without descending into vitriolic disregard for those who ignore your position.
Perhaps the reasoned, logical debate of Mr. Kay above and in numerous published interviews can act as an example of how to engage those who would wilfully disregard you.
George
A long, thoughtful note above. No time to do a really full reply but will say this…
On one level George is right: being published has to be seen as a reward for any author. Actually, everyone should read Cavafy’s wonderful poem ‘The First Step’ which makes the point that simply completing a serious work is a major achievement. But … reward enough? That’s another matter.
Every writer I know wishes for response, a readership, impact. No one wants to be the tree that falls in the forest unheard. This applies to the most cerebral ones as well as to those purely commercial. Indeed, for the latter the measure that matters is numbers.
For the more ‘serious’ writers awards can come to involve two things. One is a recognition in lieu of economic success. The ‘success d’èstime’ route. One may not be rich but one is honoured. The other, almost paradoxically, is that awards (certain awards) are about the only way some books and authors can get to a wider readership. The Man Booker in England, the Giller here in Canada, the National Book Award or Pulitzer in the States … these can sell books in large numbers, even books that had only a few hundred books sold before. They can make a name, set up a writer’s future. It is very much a ‘win the lottery’ dream.
So, for many writers, resistance among the self-proclaimed (or, in fairness, sometimes anointed) opinion-makers is a chafing wound. We are, in a wider sense, also a society that collects injustices. We’re also impatient: geological change isn’t visible (pretty much by definition) and for some, whatever the speed isn’t speedy enough.
In some instances, this kind of impatience, especially from genuinely important figures (and in literature both Diaz and Chabon are) can be useful. It can be a push on the accelerator and their hearts are in the right place (my metaphors are all over the place, by contrast).
I still take the view that we don’t serve any discussion well when we overstate or distort a situation, but from the point of view of street-theatre or events that play out in the media, accuracy isn’t always the best tactic.
A long, thoughtful note above. No time to do a really full reply but will say this…
On one level George is right: being published has to be seen as a reward for any author. Actually, everyone should read Cavafy’s wonderful poem ‘The First Step’ which makes the point that simply completing a serious work is a major achievement. But … reward enough? That’s another matter.
Every writer I know wishes for response, a readership, impact. No one wants to be the tree that falls in the forest unheard. This applies to the most cerebral ones as well as to those purely commercial. Indeed, for the latter the measure that matters is numbers.
For the more ‘serious’ writers awards can come to involve two things. One is a recognition in lieu of economic success. The ‘success d’èstime’ route. One may not be rich but one is honoured. The other, almost paradoxically, is that awards (certain awards) are about the only way some books and authors can get to a wider readership. The Man Booker in England, the Giller here in Canada, the National Book Award or Pulitzer in the States … these can sell books in large numbers, even books that had only a few hundred books sold before. They can make a name, set up a writer’s future. It is very much a ‘win the lottery’ dream.
So, for many writers, resistance among the self-proclaimed (or, in fairness, sometimes anointed) opinion-makers is a chafing wound. We are, in a wider sense, also a society that collects injustices. We’re also impatient: geological change isn’t visible (pretty much by definition) and for some, whatever the speed isn’t speedy enough.
In some instances, this kind of impatience, especially from genuinely important figures (and in literature both Diaz and Chabon are) can be useful. It can be a push on the accelerator and their hearts are in the right place (my metaphors are all over the place, by contrast).
I still take the view that we don’t serve any discussion well when we overstate or distort a situation, but from the point of view of street-theatre or events that play out in the media, accuracy isn’t always the best tactic.
Speaking of awards, I’d like to say how enthusiastically rewarding it is to have my thoughts responded to.
Then I saw who responded. !!!!!
Please excuse my profanity because maaaaan I ain’t worth shit but, it is invigorating how readily engaging and thought-provoking I find ALL your writing/discussion to be, even when we disagree.
You are the only author i would imagine whose – I want to use an inspirational insult my Greek Classics teacher wrote on my Year 7 report card regarding my penmanship – ‘chicken scratchings’ on a table napkin would be thought provoking. Your cogent analysis of (I will co-opt a well known turn of phrase) the “truths we hold to be self-evident” in the publishing world is proof positive of that for me.
All in all as I find my centre in this euphoria, I believe in the spirit of what you say, but instinctively reject the vehemence with which others address it. For me, a published writer has a voice which is quintessentially theirs. To deny the integrity of that voice for the sake of being recognized is at the very least disappointing.
The reason why I wrote what’s above is I don’t see any compromise in you and I admire that for both your integrity and its effectiveness.
George.
Speaking of awards, I’d like to say how enthusiastically rewarding it is to have my thoughts responded to.
Then I saw who responded. !!!!!
Please excuse my profanity because maaaaan I ain’t worth shit but, it is invigorating how readily engaging and thought-provoking I find ALL your writing/discussion to be, even when we disagree.
You are the only author i would imagine whose – I want to use an inspirational insult my Greek Classics teacher wrote on my Year 7 report card regarding my penmanship – ‘chicken scratchings’ on a table napkin would be thought provoking. Your cogent analysis of (I will co-opt a well known turn of phrase) the “truths we hold to be self-evident” in the publishing world is proof positive of that for me.
All in all as I find my centre in this euphoria, I believe in the spirit of what you say, but instinctively reject the vehemence with which others address it. For me, a published writer has a voice which is quintessentially theirs. To deny the integrity of that voice for the sake of being recognized is at the very least disappointing.
The reason why I wrote what’s above is I don’t see any compromise in you and I admire that for both your integrity and its effectiveness.
George.
Well, hello again. I wanted to say a little word, that is, if not the same thing, it’s posteable. The fantasy genre… Oh My God! I get very angry when I think all the people who are like: Ah, you are a teenager and you like to read ( in Spain is extremely rare, and I’m not kidding, at my age, (15) almost every person doesn`t has read any book if not because they have to read one of those books, you know, those books that are not classics and very bad), how good is that! What genre do you like most? And I, as I know what is going to happen, I answer very reluctantly: “Fantasy is what I like most”
“Uhm, eh…, that’s very good…”
But, a few days ago, I thinked one answer for those who are concerned of the same problem. Think it: they won’t read Tolkien, they won’t read Patrick Rothfuss (The name of the wind, the wise man’s fear), they won’t read Andrzej Sapkowski (The Geralt of Rivia saga)… and they won’t read you (okay, it’s your blog, I have to say some good thing about you, but I say it seriously). I am now not filled with anger, but with sadness to those persons.
Alias
Well, hello again. I wanted to say a little word, that is, if not the same thing, it’s posteable. The fantasy genre… Oh My God! I get very angry when I think all the people who are like: Ah, you are a teenager and you like to read ( in Spain is extremely rare, and I’m not kidding, at my age, (15) almost every person doesn`t has read any book if not because they have to read one of those books, you know, those books that are not classics and very bad), how good is that! What genre do you like most? And I, as I know what is going to happen, I answer very reluctantly: “Fantasy is what I like most”
“Uhm, eh…, that’s very good…”
But, a few days ago, I thinked one answer for those who are concerned of the same problem. Think it: they won’t read Tolkien, they won’t read Patrick Rothfuss (The name of the wind, the wise man’s fear), they won’t read Andrzej Sapkowski (The Geralt of Rivia saga)… and they won’t read you (okay, it’s your blog, I have to say some good thing about you, but I say it seriously). I am now not filled with anger, but with sadness to those persons.
Alias