Jennifer Barnes of Raw Dog Screaming Press:
1. Literature is in trouble -- that is, more trouble than usual. Why do you think this is? The increasing prevalence of TV? The distractions of narcotic subcultures such as video games? Sept. 11? Or is talk of the "death of literature" simple exaggeration?
It's my opinion that quality art of all forms has been under attack in this country for years and the arts have taken heavy casualties. Not only literature but music, film, theater and visual arts have been affected. The entertainment industry has suffered from one corporate merger after another. But the corporate model simply doesn't work for developing talent. For instance, musicians used to have several albums to build up a following, to hone their sound, but now if the first album doesn't hit big the record company tosses the band aside. Unfortunately it's all about quarterly profits but quality art can take years, even a lifetime to develop. Also, something that is really worth creating probably isn't going to appeal to the whole mass of Americans. Constantly dumbing art down and editing it for political-correctness is almost guaranteed to reduce it to bland, unmemorable pap.
However, all is not gloom and doom! I think the forced homogeny and mediocrity of corporate projects has fomented indie ventures of all types. More people are making their own movies, starting their own publishing companies, bands are releasing their own cds. In fact, it's why we began Raw Dog Screaming Press, no one was releasing the books we wanted to buy, or supporting the authors we wanted to read, so we decided to do it ourselves. Our model is to work with the same authors, build their careers, allow them to grow and experiment as artists. We take a longer-term view and continue to promote releases for years afterwards. Each new release should hopefully bring attention to the author's previous books. Instead of aiming for one big seller we hope to release several books and get steady sales over a longer period of time.
2. And what is literature, anyway? Should the traditional novel be considered the prime example of it?
People much smarter people than me have been debating the definition of literature since before I was born and I don't know that I have much to add to the debate. Instead I'd rather throw fuel onto the fire with books like Steve Beard's Meat Puppet Cabaret which calls into question the definition of 'novel' by constructing a tale out of various distinct narratives including video game play, dream text and reality TV show. Or Steve Aylett's, And Your Point Is?, a book of critical essays on the work of fictional author Jeff Lint's fiction. I hope our releases test the limits of traditional literature.
3. Prizes and awards are playing an increasing role in determining an author's career-trajectory. In short, winning a major literary prize can win a writer a large audience overnight (not to mention, considerable fame and financial remuneration). But, as British critic Jason Cowley has observed, what is lost is the ability for readers to think in a critically complex fashion.
Are literary prizes dangerous in this regard? Do they convey to the public the message that "this book is worth reading and all these others aren't"?
I think that literary prizes are just another tool to get the word out about a book. The more buzz that can be created about any book in our mediatized culture the better. I certainly think awards have more merit than the 'bestseller' status accorded to a book simply because it sold a certain number of copies. I mean, what if every person who bought it felt cheated and thought the book was awful. I've read more than a few really terrible 'bestsellers' in my time! I don't think it's inherent that because a book hasn't won an award it isn't worth reading. But people who rely on awards to tell them what to read probably have lost the ability to think critically. In one of our upcoming releases, Dr. Identity, D. Harlan Wilson pokes fun at the establishment by awarding his own book The Stick Figure Prize for Language & Literature. The cover has a Noble Prize style emblem on it so it will be interesting to see what kind of attention that receives. But I have, on occasion, seriously considered trying to institute an award to recognize experimental or progressive literature because there are so many excellent works out there that have been essentially overlooked due to non-existent press coverage.
4. Literary publishing has always been a marriage of art and commerce. But in recent years, the Cult of the Deal has become more influential, with agents demanding larger advances and marketing people paying especially close attention to sales figures. Is the "art" side of the business being pushed out?
As I mentioned earlier I definitely think the emphasis placed on profit is at cross-purposes to producing the best, or even generally good, literature. That's exactly why the small press is thriving right now. Although we are not able to offer authors huge advances, we do our best to treat each release with respect and remember that it is a work of art into which the author has poured many hours of energy.
5. Many major publishers now refuse to accept "unsolicited" work; that is, they will not even consider work unless it is agented. Is this a sound policy from point of view of finding the best new literary voices? Isn't there a chance good writing will be squeezed out?
I absolutely think that the quality of the titles being released by major publishers is suffering. I'm sure the low quality contributes to people's lack of interest in reading. Even though mass market paperbacks were always fluff the bar continues to sink lower. It used to be that if you wanted a fast and fun read you could pick up one up but these days they seem so riddled with errors and simple plot inconsistencies that instead of being hard to put down they are a trial to get through.
6. Alternatively, for small presses that do accept unsolicited work, is the problem that the majors are squeezing the small houses at the distribution/retail marketing end? In other words, even when good writers get published by small houses, do they have a fair chance of winning an audience? Or are the major houses introducing an overly corporate, overly aggressive mentality to the book trade?
I'm not sure the cause but I think there is very little correlation between the quality of an author's writing and the size of their following. I'd say a writer has virtually no chance of winning an audience based on writing alone. There is simply too much competition for the attention of the audience. It may not be fair or right but these days an author needs to be a bit of showman to win a following. Publishers don't sell books, authors sell books. When people meet the author, read an interview or see a post from them online that garners more interest than any print or banner ad can. I've read PR people from the major publishers saying the same thing; if the author doesn't get involved in promoting the book stands little chance of selling.
7. Returning to the question of agents -- are they too powerful? If so, in what ways? Or are they a largely beneficial and necessary element of contemporary publishing?
I have not had any dealings with agents but they seem like unnecessary middlemen. I think it's unlikely that they, as a group, are a good judge of talent and how could they know better than the publisher what the publisher is looking for? There may be certain individuals who are good scouts for talent but it's clear from the books the majors are releasing that the process is breaking down somewhere.
8. Does America have too many publishers? Or too few?
New publishers are springing up every day but they go out of business just as fast. I know from experience that starting from scratch is extremely difficult. There's a lot to learn and very little support. It seems like each publisher has to blaze their own trail. Often the quality suffers and a lot of works are released without adequate editing. What the scene needs are more mid-sized publishers with a solid track record and a clear audience. We need less huge conglomerates and less tiny upstarts.
9. In your opinion, how will new technologies such as the e-book or audio books affect the "form" of the book?
These are just new formats that can be utilized to get a text out there. We try to release most of our titles as e-books because it's just one more way to reach the customer. We've also got an exciting audio book project coming up. Author Michael Arnzen is recording audio versions of some of his stories from 100 Jolts, a book of flash fiction that we released in 2004, which garnered a lot of critical acclaim attention from readers. It's titled Audiovile. However, he's not simply reading the stories but truly performing them and adding his own music and sound effects. The result is a lot more like a narrated 'song' than a dry reading. I'm also very interested in how podcasts can be used in conjunction with published books. Still, I don't think any of these things will replace actual books.
10. Putting aside the hype, does the Internet provide a real opportunity to publishers? If so, how?
RDSP would not exist without the internet. In fact, our company grew out of an online zine that we used to run, The Dream People (www.dreampeople.org). We have since turned it over to another editor but starting online gave us the chance to meet a lot of writers and get our feet wet without a major monetary investment. The internet allows us to locate the type of reader that is interested in our titles. We're able to get a lot of free publicity through blogs and web sites such as our own, our authors and sites like this one. It even helps with production since we can upload files to our printer's web site and even place orders. And there always seem to be new ways to promote books. For instance I've been testing out book 'teasers' for some of our upcoming releases. They're similar to trailers for movies. I've uploaded them to video sites like YouTube. For an example view the teaser for Ronald Damien Malfi's novel Via Dolorosa: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBF5reOEBeA
11. And what role can traditional, venerable institutions
such as libraries and English Departments play in reversing the decline in sales of literary fiction?
Universities and libraries can be incubators for literary fiction. We've actually had pretty good luck getting our books taught in classes. Michael A. Arnzen's 100 Jolts: Shockingly Short Stories has been used several times as a text. There are discussion questions and writing prompts available to go with the book. Harold Jaffe's 15 Serial Killers has also been featured in a paper submitted to the ALA as well as being taught in college classrooms.
Many of our authors are professors which allows them to write without worrying where their next meal will come from. Although it's not the ideal situation for a writer, being a professor offers more flexibility for writing than many jobs. Most schools are supportive of the releases and often fund trips to conferences for promotion of the books. Libraries are also a great support. We are able to do hardcover releases for many of our books because libraries are willing to pay the higher price. Being able to put out hardcovers is important since review venues take the title more seriously if it's released as a hardcover. Actively promoting small press titles to the University community is a good way to establish a steady base of sales. It's not a huge market but it's consistent. That's why we are planning on attending both the AWP(Associated Writing Programs) and the ALA (American Library Association) conferences this year.
12. What projects are you working on now that you are excited about?
Well, we've just released an expanded edition of John Edward Lawson's novel Last Burn in Hell: Director's Cut. The story contains themes about the media so this edition mimics a DVD and contains an alternate ending, stills from the 'movie', deleted scenes, a soundtrack listing and other bonus material. So far people have really responded to the concept so we may do more editions like that. We're also releasing the first novel by D. Harlan Wilson, who previously has only done short stories. It's titled Dr. Identity or Farewell to Plaquedemia and will be the first book in the Scikungfi trilogy. It's a crazy ultra-violent sci-fi adventure packed with kung-fu action and riddled with ironic commentary on our culture in general and the academic system in particular. I am also looking forward to seeing where the bizarro movement goes in the coming year. It sprung out of some blog conversations with like-minded authors and publishers last year and spawned a collection, The Bizarro Starter Kit. But I think the authors have only begun to test the limits of where such a movement could go.
Bio: Jennifer Barnes is co-founder and managing editor of Raw Dog Screaming Press. She graduated from the University of Maryland with an English degree and a concentration in Poetry and Creative Writing. She has had numerous poems and articles published both in print and online. Most recently her poetry appeared in The Greatest Chapbook Ever, A Little Poetry, Ascent, and sidereality. She is also a graphic designer with over five years of web and print design experience.
Conversations in the Book Trade: Books, art, art-books, and ... authorial movies.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Thursday, March 15, 2007
A Conversation with Jennifer Barnes at the Brooklyn Rail
My interview with Jennifer Barnes of Raw Dog Screaming Press is now up at The Brooklyn Rail. A longer version of the same interview will appear at this site in several days.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Ian Brown -- writer, arts journalist (The Globe and Mail), broadcaster (CBC radio, TVO)
Ian Brown -- writer, arts journalist (The Globe and Mail), and broadcaster (moderator of CBC radio's Talking Books, and host of TVO's Human Edge and The View From Here):
1. Literature is in trouble -- that is, more trouble than usual. Why do you think this is? The increasing prevalence of TV? The distractions of narcotic subcultures such as video games? Sept. 11? Or is talk of the "death of literature" simple exaggeration?
I don't think literature is in trouble. It may be taking new and mutant forms, but literature itself--written work whose value lies in the beauty of its language and its emotional effect--is more robust than ever. In fact, I would say we are living in the Second Renaissance that way. Of course, I include the writing in a TV show such as Rescue Me as literature, so my definition may be wider than most. But for all the crap we see--all the Oprah fare and over-promoted soap such as Clair Messud's last novel along with the more obvious dreck, such as Mitch Albom's books--there seems to be more good stuff around, pound for pound, than ever--whether it is in the form of blogs, The Believer Magazine, writerly nonfiction (tons of examples), script-writing, TV, graphic novels, or even the odd traditional novel.
2. And what is literature, anyway? Should the novel be considered the prime example of it?
See definition above, hence my belief that the novel is no longer the prime example of literature. Nor does it need to be. Too much attention can ossify a genre. If anything is in trouble, it's literary fiction--but again, only because there are so many alternative ways to consume good writing these days. The book itself is a fantastic technology, but literary fiction has some serious competition for my attention. For a long time, literary fiction--the short story and the novel--had valuable territory all to itself: that is, the emotional interior of a character's life. No other way of telling a story was as good at describing that interior as literary fiction--poetry came close, drama had its days, but the novel was King Consciousness. And maybe things got a little too comfortable. Because for reasons that are still unclear to me--maybe because literature took that dank detour through the arid fields of literary theory, as Phil Marchand suggested on this site a while ago--the actual story-telling skills of many so-called "literary novels" seemed to atrophy. Meanwhile everyone else--videographers, bloggers, the graphic folk, even journalists and critics--have been working like hell to develop new and more dashing ways of telling stories, technically. And it shows, at least by the measure of how much energy each of these story-telling forms is throwing off these days. And that's not to say that novelists can't also throw off energy if they want to--Jonathan Safran Foer is a good example of a guy who figured out how to tell his story not just one way, but in fifty ways.
3 . Prizes and awards are playing an increasing role in determining an author's career-trajectory. In short, winning a major literary prize can win a writer a large audience overnight (not to mention, considerable fame and financial remuneration). But, as British critic Jason Cowley has observed, what is lost is the ability for readers to think in a critically complex fashion.
Are literary prizes dangerous in this regard? Do they convey to the public the message that "this book is worth reading and all these others aren't"?
I think prizes are largely artificial, and possibly dangerous, although I'm not sure that's the fault of the prize, per se, so much as it is our own susceptibility to awards, as consumers of books. (The only thing responsible for one's losing one's ability to think "in a critically complex fashion" is an insufficient diet of critically complex thinking--and whose fault is that?) I've had the nightmarish pleasure of sitting on writing prize juries, and I can't think of a single case where we ended up picking what I or anyone else thought was the best piece of writing. For starters you have to compromise with the picks of the other judges, who suddenly turn out to have zero literary taste despite their excellent taste in shoes or mini-skirts. Then the weird stuff starts happening--such as when someone says well, we need to have a women in the mix of finalists, or a Westerner. That sort of thing actually happens. To pretend that a book so chosen is "better" than another is absurd. I also think prizes tend to further commodify the business of publishing--they convey false value to ideas and writing, while undermining their real value, which is as ideas and writing in and of themselves. On the other hand, prizes--the Giller is a good example--lend much-needed glamour and pride to the literary community, which is undervalued in general. They may also attract readers to books in general, which is always a good thing. For the mind, I mean.
4. The publishing industry has always been a marriage of art and commerce. But in recent years, the Cult of the Deal has become more influential, with agents demanding larger advances and marketing people paying especially close attention to sales figures. Is the "art" side of the business being pushed out?
Real art is going to surface, no matter what--no matter how much agents and publishers and even readers conspire against it. For every publishing company that buys exit sales data from Barnes and Noble or Indigo to determine next fall's list, there are others that publish only what they want to read and publish. I admit it drives me crazy that a book like Tuesdays With Morrie--one of the shallowest, most craven books ever published--does so well while the short stories of, say, Sergei Dovlatov fail to sell. But again, that's not really the publishing industry's fault--it's our fault, the fault of readers. We keep choosing to read (or watch or listen to) shit, and then we wonder why modern life feels so empty. And personally, I have never had the experience of an editor or an agent saying, hey, Ian, make this more commercial. They seem to go instead for the most heartfelt ideas I can dream up, however unusual.
5. As well, should the Canadian cultural nationalism of the 1970s make a comeback? Do we need a "National Culture Policy" that will put more Canadian books front and center in bookstores?
Yes, we need a national culture policy, if only to compensate for our paltry numbers here in Canada. There are just too many American readers and too many American writers and too many American books, for starters, and the sheer force and size of their numbers would overwhelm Canadian writing and publishing without some help from our federal government. That policy helped make Canadian fiction an international success. Character may be destiny, but geography is a large part of character.
6. Many major houses refuse to accept "unsolicited" work; that is, they will not even consider work unless it is agented. Is this a sound policy from point of view of finding the best new literary voices? Isn't there a chance good writing will be squeezed out?
My experience as an editor suggests the opposite--that talent and good writing are in fact in permanent short supply, especially in a country that has only 32 million people. No one good is being ignored. I mean, I've read slush piles; you're lucky to find one salvageable piece in a hundred. I don't know where we get this idea that there are thousands and thousands of brilliant writers out there waiting to be read, but for the narrow greedy tastes of publishers. It isn't true. And look at some of the dreck that gets published anyway! And I mean in so-called "literary magazines" and by so called "literary presses," not just on self-published blogs. This so-called quality literary stuff lands on my desk at Talking Books all the time, and I can tell you a lot of it is terrifyingly bad. It can make your eyeballs spin out of your head at fifty paces. I sometimes think that publishers resort to formula so often not because it sells--it often doesn't, as it turns out--but because they have nothing else to publish, because good writing and inspired story-telling are in such short supply. It's a talent. It's rare.
7. Alternatively, for small presses that do accept unsolicited work, is the problem that the majors are squeezing the small houses at the distribution/retail marketing end? In other words, even when good writers get published by small houses, do they have a fair chance of winning an audience? Or are the major houses introducing an overly corporate, overly aggressive mentality to the book trade?
I don't know. I haven't found that to be the case. Winning an audience--to say nothing of keeping an audience--is very hard in any event, in any medium, even if you are published by a so-called "big" house. I suspect the roadblocks that do exist are most often erected by the chain bookstores, which do tend to stock only what they can turn over, and tend--this is what I hear from publishers, anyway--to be driven by a less literary, more bean-headed mentality. And then there are those scummy marketing ploys, such as the tables at a well-known chain marked "Great Books for Women" and "Great Books for Gardeners" and "Great Books for Airheads" and--oh, wait, sorry, that last one isn't one of them, I'm just imagining that. Still, getting a book on one of those tables costs money: the publisher has to pay for display. A small publisher likely can't afford that on his or her own. Yet another reason to support your local independent bookseller, if you ask me.
8. Does Canada have too many publishers? Or too few?
You can never have too many publishers.
9. In your opinion, how will new technologies such as the e-book or audio books affect the "form" of the book?
I'm not sure new technologies will affect the form of the book, except perhaps to make it more various. I mean, hypertext is interesting: it could replace the footnote, except that it's less convenient than footnotes, provided the footnotes are at the foot of the page, and not at the back, which is a dumb idea, in my humble O. Audio books seem like they ought to be a growing business, but I don't have any data to support that, and my agent once told me there isn't much money in them; I'm basing my contention solely on the number of middle-aged people I know who now own iPods and who now listen to audiobooks while they're on a plane, avoiding the crap movie and the nuked food. But then, they're just as likely to be watching their own movie or listening to a Ricky Gervais podcast of Carl Pocklington's apercus, aren't they? The dedicated e-book is a loser, I think, at least at this point--it's just too hard to read for long off a screen, and too cumbersome. For research--yes, of course, online is the present and the future. But plain old books, as a technology, are very hard to beat. They are portable, sturdy, they don't require batteries or recharging, and--most important--they are private and personal and rare in ways that the iPod and the eBook can never be, by definition. Electronic text has a shared feel; physical books feel like they are one's own, a private, personal thing. I realize I sound crazy, but I think that's a very important difference.
10. You have worked across media for several years now: "Man Overboard" was both a book and a TV show. You work in print and broadcast journalism. But there seems to be a particular reticence in Canada to seeing that kind of Renaissance cultural activity as, well, Renaissance.
I'm not sure I agree about the reticence. I think some members of the literary establishment still look down their noses at TV or radio, or at the prospect of dealing with books and literary themes on radio and TV, but those people are rare now, and probably look down their noses at newspapers and the internet too. I also run into the odd academic who gets snotty when one of the rabble dabbles in his or her specialty. The biggest problem in that regard is that these new media are still new: for instance, we still haven't figured out how to talk about books on TV, unless it's a fast-hit, end of year, this-is-what-to-buy kind of thing. TV doesn't lend itself to long abstract conversations the way radio and print do, and long discussions are what you need when you talk about books.
But having said that: as a writer, things have never been better. I mean, I recently wrote a story about culling one's books, and what a grand and impossible endeavor that is. I wrote the piece for the Globe, and it was 5,000 words long--two entire pages of the broadsheet. But since it was published I have had discussions about turning the piece not just into a book, but into a TV story--an actual narrative--as well. And that's a story about tidying up your library.
Why the interest in such an obscure subject? Because--and this may be the real answer to Question 9--there is a huge hunger these days for stories that are not on the official media agenda (and I think most bloggers are now pretty much on the official agenda too). One of the ironic consequences of the information explosion--the internet, cable, the iPod, etc--has been that the same 5 percent of human experience (the news, the daily stuff that gets wired around the world, the daily agenda that everyone talks about, the standard concepts and topics) gets talked about over and over and over again. You know how it works: CNN goes big on O.J., so all the papers have to go big on O.J. too, whereupon NBC and CBC go bigger, whereupon the bloggers jump in too. etc, etc, blah blah blah. A lot of bloggers will claim this doesn't happen in the so-called blogosphere, but it does: blogs, I find, are especially susceptible to picking up the agenda zeitgeist, which only makes most of them sound like everything else. (Talent is as rare in Blogdom as it is anywhere else; unfortunately, editors are even rarer down there.) Anyway, the result of all this me-tooism is that the remaining 95 per cent of human experience is completely untouched, at least by the established media--unless they recognize the fact, which happens very rarely, and make a special place for the unofficial stories and a different kind of reporting/writing and reading, which is how people like me get to do what we do at the Globe, and publish stories about culling. The Globe's a very daring publication in that regard. And then the stories get picked up and re-developed by radio and TV, which are equally hungry for well-told, well-reported, off-agenda stories. I find that very encouraging, as a writer-slash-journalist. Now all we have to work on is the rate of pay.
11. Is Canadian literary culture a little obsessed with what lit-blogger Dan Green once called "print sniffing"? Is there a tendency in our country to fetishize books qua objects, and not pay enough attention to the actual content of what a writer produces over his/her career and over various media?
No, I don't think so. I think of Don McKellar as a great writer (32 Short Films About Glenn Gould, the musical The Drowsy Chaperone, among many other works) but he's better known as an actor. Ditto Susan Coyne, who wrote Slings and Arrows on TV and Kingfisher Days between hardcovers, while also acting. Books are still the gold standard in some circles--because books are where the most serious thinking and writing has been done, traditionally. You can refer back to what is in a book, more easily and more reliably than you can refer to what has been spouted into the ether on TV. It's not for nothing that George Bush prefers to give TV interviews, over print ones--because the stuff he says on TV gets forgotten. Although with YouTube that is now changing. But I don't think Canadians are more fetishistic, bookwise, than anyone else. Books have weight, historically; they deserve a little sniffing, frankly.
12. And if so, will this rather straight-laced tendency of Canadian literary culture lessen its chances of retaining its small market on the world stage in the coming years of great technological change?
No. If anything, the size of our local national market becomes less important with new technology, because you can publish anywhere, in a multiplicity of forms. I admit I'm an optimist in that regard. We just have to take chances, and give good writers the freedom and opportunity (financial and otherwise) to do what they are convinced they have to do. Talent takes care of itself.
13. In the introduction to the essay collection you edited, "What I Meant to Say", you recount a conversation with publisher Patrick Crean. In it, you describe thrashing out identifying the audience for a book of personal essays by men about their personal lives. Finally, you both agree the audience for such a book wouldn't so much be men as women who want to find out about men.
The book is now in its third printing, so something is working. I think we were right to conclude that a male version of Carol Shields's Dropped Threads would not work; that men would run shrieking from a book about men, by men, for men, because very few men would want to be seen reading or buying such a book. It would reek of feelings and weakness and insecurity and the men's movement, or at least that is what most men would think it would reek of, given what they were used to reading in that genre. Men aren't supposed to have private lives that can be talked about.
But women bought it, because I told the contributors to write their essays for female readers, and all the contributors are very good-story-tellers. And those women in turn seem to give it to men, who then buy it on their own for their pals, and even for their wives and sons and daughters.
It almost feels like a genetic difference. Historically and biologically, men are the ones who form a chain around the fire at night, facing out from their women and children, watching for marauders in the darkness. You don't want to be distracted by feelings at times like that, or when you're hunting, or when you're fighting your enemy. Maybe that's why brain scientists are finding that men have one-track brains--because distraction was costlier to men, who always did the dangerous work of hunting and warring, than it was to multi-track-brained women. Thus men have not developed a vocabulary that allowed them to talk to one another about private matters, or about their private lives. But that's changing quickly: the women's movement blew open all the doors. So guys can now buy this book and read about sex and shopping and convertibles and what it's like to try to be a hero or have secrets, and other aspects of the private male psyche.
Having said that, I should add that after What I Meant to Say came out, I began to think that we ought to have published a book of essays by men, written for women, about women, and how men see them. That would have been of even greater interest to women, I imagine.
14. Yet taking into account that frank discussion of sexual desire is an absolute must in any book about the modern male psyche, how, in your opinion, does a writer balance the fact of carnal need with the ideal of heartfelt sensitivity? (For example, you achieve a nice balance in your own piece on stripping between obligations to family and the Urge to Look.)
Generally speaking, how is one to be honest and moving at the same time?
It's a big problem. A lot of women--who buy most of the books--just aren't interested in hearing about the way men behave, especially when guys objectify women--which is something men do a lot. Women especially aren't interested in hearing this stuff if the guy is furious or hates women or is simply venting his pent-up anger.
But I think you can do it, if you write candidly and stylishly, if you tell the story well. A little candour--my decision to write about being watched when I walk with my disabled son, and to compare that objectification to what happens when I watch women in strip clubs, is a case in point--goes a long way in that regard.
And there's a difference between candour and confession, which is a whole other, more complicated genre of writing, and not one I'm drawn to. Confession is passive and weak and assumes an admission of guilt and a desire to apologize. Candour is more confident--such as when Ted Bishop reveals, in his essay in What I Meant to Say, what goes through his mind when a pretty cashier's hand grazes his as she returns his change. And how that relates to the theories of Merleau-Ponty. All of which was interesting and charming and funny and complimentary to women and--most important of all--beautifully written. I told all the contributors that I didn't mind what they said--they could even admit to wanting to be left alone with the March issue of Tits 'n' Hitler--as long as a woman reader didn't heave the book arcross the room, but instead was prompted to think about what they had to say.
And that's the sort of thing you can do if you can tell a story well. It's a bit like that movie, The Aristocrats, about a bunch of comedians telling a truly gross and disgusting joke: after a while, the vile content doesn't matter as much as the wit and originality of the telling. Updike knows that: he is (still!) always going on about women's nether parts, for instance, often in the most objectifying way, but he does it with such an original eye and with such precision and care and energy and attention and careful, graceful writing and story-tellign technique, that women are seduced into reading him anyway. Plus he is always showing them how his male characters see woman, a subject of steady interest to women readers lo these many centuries.
It's one of the great thrills and challenges of writing, I think: you find yourself stuck way out over deep, shark--infested waters, and you can't help but think, oh man, if I fall, I am soooooooo dead! And then you manage to get across the gap anyway, because you figured out how to keep people reading.
Bio: Ian Brown is a roving feature writer for the Globe and Mail. His stories mostly appear in the Focus section of the Saturday edition of the paper. He is also the host of Talking Books, a radio show that can be heard on CBC Radio 1 at 4:30 p.m.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Philip Marchand -- writer, critic (The Toronto Star)
Philip Marchand -- writer, critic (The Toronto Star)
1. Literature is in trouble -- that is, more trouble than usual. Why do you think this is? The increasing prevalence of TV? The distractions of narcotic subcultures such as video games? Sept. 11? Or is talk of the "death of literature" simple exaggeration?
I'm not sure how much "trouble" literature is in. The age of Tennyson was the last period in literature when "serious" literature found a mass market. Ever since, we've had a very small minority of readers for "serious" stuff, and a fairly large audience for thrillers, romance novels, detective novels, and so on. Then there's the Da Vinci Code phenomenon in which everybody, from your dentist to your car mechanic, is reading a certain book - in order to be able to join in discussions about the book on social occasions, if for no other reason.
There is no doubt that electronic media are the dominant entertainment and cultural media in our society. But this was also true of the 1920s, with the development of radio and cinema. Perhaps the only difference between then and now is that television, sometime around 1962, definitely killed the popular short story, as a distinct genre that once flourished in magazines such as Saturday Evening Post, Maclean's, and so on. (Or the Toronto Star Weekly, for that matter.)
Kids certainly have been affected by video games as a component of their entertainment. Yet I'm told that many kids still read - still read a lot, as a matter of fact. The only problem is that what they read are these massive multi-volume fantasy epics, etc. I suppose that's a problem. But literature as such is not going away, any more than stamp collecting, playing acoustic guitars, and so on.
I actually think the biggest threat to literature is not electronic media but a corrosive intellectual climate of "theory" that works against any ambitious piece of literature nowadays.
2. Prizes and awards are playing an increasing role in determining an author's career-trajectory. In short, winning a major literary prize can win a writer a large audience overnight (not to mention, considerable fame and financial remuneration). But, as British critic Jason Cowley has observed, what is lost is the ability for readers to think in a critically complex fashion.
Are literary prizes dangerous in this regard? Do they convey to the public the message "this book is worth reading and all these others aren't"?
I've been grousing about literary prizes for years and nobody pays attention to me. There are so many problems with them - the foremost problem being to get good jury members. To get three good jurors is quite a feat, and it only takes one unfortunately chosen juror to drive the whole process off the rails. Even with a reasonable jury, Giller Prize winners and their like always turn out to be compromise choices, and sometimes they make your heart sink, thinking of an average literate person reading some of these prize novels, under the impression it's the best our writers can do. There has been a high percentage of mediocre works of fiction that have won the Giller. It's also punishing to authors - prizes being one more way for writers to fail, as one of them put it to me. But the worst effect is the corruption of literary publicity. I just wish we could have more periodicals devoted to accessible but rigorous critical examination of new novels, instead of this hoopla.
3. Many major publishers now refuse to accept "unsolicited" work; that is, they will not even consider work unless it is agented. Is this a sound policy from point of view of finding the best new literary voices? Isn't there a chance good writing will be squeezed out?
I remember the publisher Jack McClelland once commenting, some time around 1970, when his publishing house, McClelland & Stewart, was the first port of call for unpublished authors with their manuscripts, that it was simply not true that there was a substantial body of good literature out there in the hinterlands that was being unfairly neglected or overlooked. If something was really good, it eventually found a publisher. Nothing has changed in that regard. It is true that agents are now the first gatekeepers of literature, as it were, but that's not an insuperable barrier for a writer who truly has something to say and can say it well.
4. Alternatively, for small presses that do accept unsolicited work, is the problem that the majors are squeezing the small houses at the distribution/retail marketing end? In other words, even when good writers get published by small houses, do they have a fair chance of winning an audience?
It's very hard for any author to win an audience. It is also true that it is harder for small press authors to win an audience, since they don't have the publicity machine behind them that larger publishers do - although it's a very creaky machine at best. But a remarkable talent will almost always eventually get broader exposure and make the transition from small press to more mainstream press. It is important to have half a dozen good literary presses going at any time, and unfortunately it does require some assistance from granting agencies, and so on.
5. Does Canada have too many publishers? Or too few?
Canada could use a few more publishers. It wouldn't hurt.
6. In your opinion, how will new technologies such as the e-book or audio books affect the "form" of the book?
So far technologies such as the e-book and the audio book have had zero effect on the basic format of the book. That format is just too good and convenient a technology to be replaced or seriously modified. Interesting developments such as print on demand and the whole internet e-bay phenomenon will affect the marketing and distribution of books but the basic product will remain the same.
7. And what role can traditional, venerable institutions such as libraries and English Departments play in reversing the decline in sales of literary fiction?
Some libraries, anyway, certainly take their mandate seriously, hosting readings, hiring writers-in-residence, and so on. As a writer, I wish they would buy more books than non-book items, such as CDs and so on, but they have a wide community to service and these choices are always difficult. If I were ruler of Canada I would certainly spend more money on public libraries generally. English Departments also have a tricky balancing act - giving English majors a solid grounding in canonical literature - Beowulf to Virginia Woolf, as they used to say - and presenting them with some contemporary literature. Unfortunately, many literary academics proved to be traitors to the cause, subjecting their students to gaseous clouds of "theory" as opposed to helping students pay close attention to actual texts and to analyze them with both clarity and rigour. A student who has learned to examine George Eliot or Nathaniel Hawthorne with almost microscopic attention is more likely to have a discriminating interest in contemporary literary fiction than a student who has mastered theory.
8. Recently you remarked that Toronto lacks a great chronicler -- a great novelist who focuses specifically on Toronto. But again, given the realities of the fiction market and the fact Canadian authors often depend for their financial success on foreign sales, and the fact that contemporary Toronto as a topic does not elicit as much interest as London or New York, is there really an audience to sustain this kind of work these days?
I think American and British readers will give Toronto a chance if a novel set in this city is good enough.
9. In response to the same article, Catherine Bush remarked part of the problem is Canadian critics/academics not paying enough attention to the work that has already been published. Is this true? Do Canadians tend to forget their own literature?
This goes back to the question about literary prizes. If there were more serious and widespread critical discussion about literature in our culture, rather than all the fuss about one day wonders, or television panels about Giller Prize winners, then those books that deserve permanent attention, no matter how long ago they were published, would get their due of attention.
10. Finally, you are a writer yourself. You've written popular history mixed with memoir (Ghost Empire: How The French Almost Conquered North America), cultural studies/biography (Marshall McLuhan: The Medium and the Messenger), criticism (Ripostes) and a crime novel (Deadly Spirits). But you are probably best known as a critic. Does the hard -- and necessary -- work that a critic does tend to get overlooked, especially given North America's (as opposed to Europe's) sole veneration of the author as the locus of literary achievement? In short, is the critic engaging in a form of literary writing, too?
A serious critic certainly tries to "engage in a form of literary writing" by making his or her writing lucid, intelligent, lively and above all passionate. If these qualities are present in the writing, then some criticism will have a long life. It will also be criticism that will contribute to deeper understanding of literary works in general, which I think authors would be happy about. But there's no doubt that purely imaginative writing - fiction, poetry, and so on - will always be the main focus of readers' attention. Great imaginative literature just burns deeper into the mind. I don't care if critics take a back seat in that respect. But it's always nice to be recognized for contributing to the cause, and there may be some deficient appreciation of that fact in literary circles.
As a critic, the only hope of longevity I have is that remarks I have made about various novels will turn out to be useful for students of those novels years hence. That would make me happy.
Bio: Philip Marchand is one of the best-known and most influential critics in Canada. He is also an author (see question 10, above), his most recent book being Ghost Empire: How The French Almost Conquered North America. His literary column appears regularly in the books section of The Toronto Star.
1. Literature is in trouble -- that is, more trouble than usual. Why do you think this is? The increasing prevalence of TV? The distractions of narcotic subcultures such as video games? Sept. 11? Or is talk of the "death of literature" simple exaggeration?
I'm not sure how much "trouble" literature is in. The age of Tennyson was the last period in literature when "serious" literature found a mass market. Ever since, we've had a very small minority of readers for "serious" stuff, and a fairly large audience for thrillers, romance novels, detective novels, and so on. Then there's the Da Vinci Code phenomenon in which everybody, from your dentist to your car mechanic, is reading a certain book - in order to be able to join in discussions about the book on social occasions, if for no other reason.
There is no doubt that electronic media are the dominant entertainment and cultural media in our society. But this was also true of the 1920s, with the development of radio and cinema. Perhaps the only difference between then and now is that television, sometime around 1962, definitely killed the popular short story, as a distinct genre that once flourished in magazines such as Saturday Evening Post, Maclean's, and so on. (Or the Toronto Star Weekly, for that matter.)
Kids certainly have been affected by video games as a component of their entertainment. Yet I'm told that many kids still read - still read a lot, as a matter of fact. The only problem is that what they read are these massive multi-volume fantasy epics, etc. I suppose that's a problem. But literature as such is not going away, any more than stamp collecting, playing acoustic guitars, and so on.
I actually think the biggest threat to literature is not electronic media but a corrosive intellectual climate of "theory" that works against any ambitious piece of literature nowadays.
2. Prizes and awards are playing an increasing role in determining an author's career-trajectory. In short, winning a major literary prize can win a writer a large audience overnight (not to mention, considerable fame and financial remuneration). But, as British critic Jason Cowley has observed, what is lost is the ability for readers to think in a critically complex fashion.
Are literary prizes dangerous in this regard? Do they convey to the public the message "this book is worth reading and all these others aren't"?
I've been grousing about literary prizes for years and nobody pays attention to me. There are so many problems with them - the foremost problem being to get good jury members. To get three good jurors is quite a feat, and it only takes one unfortunately chosen juror to drive the whole process off the rails. Even with a reasonable jury, Giller Prize winners and their like always turn out to be compromise choices, and sometimes they make your heart sink, thinking of an average literate person reading some of these prize novels, under the impression it's the best our writers can do. There has been a high percentage of mediocre works of fiction that have won the Giller. It's also punishing to authors - prizes being one more way for writers to fail, as one of them put it to me. But the worst effect is the corruption of literary publicity. I just wish we could have more periodicals devoted to accessible but rigorous critical examination of new novels, instead of this hoopla.
3. Many major publishers now refuse to accept "unsolicited" work; that is, they will not even consider work unless it is agented. Is this a sound policy from point of view of finding the best new literary voices? Isn't there a chance good writing will be squeezed out?
I remember the publisher Jack McClelland once commenting, some time around 1970, when his publishing house, McClelland & Stewart, was the first port of call for unpublished authors with their manuscripts, that it was simply not true that there was a substantial body of good literature out there in the hinterlands that was being unfairly neglected or overlooked. If something was really good, it eventually found a publisher. Nothing has changed in that regard. It is true that agents are now the first gatekeepers of literature, as it were, but that's not an insuperable barrier for a writer who truly has something to say and can say it well.
4. Alternatively, for small presses that do accept unsolicited work, is the problem that the majors are squeezing the small houses at the distribution/retail marketing end? In other words, even when good writers get published by small houses, do they have a fair chance of winning an audience?
It's very hard for any author to win an audience. It is also true that it is harder for small press authors to win an audience, since they don't have the publicity machine behind them that larger publishers do - although it's a very creaky machine at best. But a remarkable talent will almost always eventually get broader exposure and make the transition from small press to more mainstream press. It is important to have half a dozen good literary presses going at any time, and unfortunately it does require some assistance from granting agencies, and so on.
5. Does Canada have too many publishers? Or too few?
Canada could use a few more publishers. It wouldn't hurt.
6. In your opinion, how will new technologies such as the e-book or audio books affect the "form" of the book?
So far technologies such as the e-book and the audio book have had zero effect on the basic format of the book. That format is just too good and convenient a technology to be replaced or seriously modified. Interesting developments such as print on demand and the whole internet e-bay phenomenon will affect the marketing and distribution of books but the basic product will remain the same.
7. And what role can traditional, venerable institutions such as libraries and English Departments play in reversing the decline in sales of literary fiction?
Some libraries, anyway, certainly take their mandate seriously, hosting readings, hiring writers-in-residence, and so on. As a writer, I wish they would buy more books than non-book items, such as CDs and so on, but they have a wide community to service and these choices are always difficult. If I were ruler of Canada I would certainly spend more money on public libraries generally. English Departments also have a tricky balancing act - giving English majors a solid grounding in canonical literature - Beowulf to Virginia Woolf, as they used to say - and presenting them with some contemporary literature. Unfortunately, many literary academics proved to be traitors to the cause, subjecting their students to gaseous clouds of "theory" as opposed to helping students pay close attention to actual texts and to analyze them with both clarity and rigour. A student who has learned to examine George Eliot or Nathaniel Hawthorne with almost microscopic attention is more likely to have a discriminating interest in contemporary literary fiction than a student who has mastered theory.
8. Recently you remarked that Toronto lacks a great chronicler -- a great novelist who focuses specifically on Toronto. But again, given the realities of the fiction market and the fact Canadian authors often depend for their financial success on foreign sales, and the fact that contemporary Toronto as a topic does not elicit as much interest as London or New York, is there really an audience to sustain this kind of work these days?
I think American and British readers will give Toronto a chance if a novel set in this city is good enough.
9. In response to the same article, Catherine Bush remarked part of the problem is Canadian critics/academics not paying enough attention to the work that has already been published. Is this true? Do Canadians tend to forget their own literature?
This goes back to the question about literary prizes. If there were more serious and widespread critical discussion about literature in our culture, rather than all the fuss about one day wonders, or television panels about Giller Prize winners, then those books that deserve permanent attention, no matter how long ago they were published, would get their due of attention.
10. Finally, you are a writer yourself. You've written popular history mixed with memoir (Ghost Empire: How The French Almost Conquered North America), cultural studies/biography (Marshall McLuhan: The Medium and the Messenger), criticism (Ripostes) and a crime novel (Deadly Spirits). But you are probably best known as a critic. Does the hard -- and necessary -- work that a critic does tend to get overlooked, especially given North America's (as opposed to Europe's) sole veneration of the author as the locus of literary achievement? In short, is the critic engaging in a form of literary writing, too?
A serious critic certainly tries to "engage in a form of literary writing" by making his or her writing lucid, intelligent, lively and above all passionate. If these qualities are present in the writing, then some criticism will have a long life. It will also be criticism that will contribute to deeper understanding of literary works in general, which I think authors would be happy about. But there's no doubt that purely imaginative writing - fiction, poetry, and so on - will always be the main focus of readers' attention. Great imaginative literature just burns deeper into the mind. I don't care if critics take a back seat in that respect. But it's always nice to be recognized for contributing to the cause, and there may be some deficient appreciation of that fact in literary circles.
As a critic, the only hope of longevity I have is that remarks I have made about various novels will turn out to be useful for students of those novels years hence. That would make me happy.
Bio: Philip Marchand is one of the best-known and most influential critics in Canada. He is also an author (see question 10, above), his most recent book being Ghost Empire: How The French Almost Conquered North America. His literary column appears regularly in the books section of The Toronto Star.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Jennifer Banash -- writer, co-publisher (Impetus Press)
Jennifer Banash, writer, co-publisher (with Willy Blackmore) of Impetus Press:
1. Literature is in trouble -- that is, more trouble than usual. Why do you think this is? The increasing prevalence of TV? The distractions of narcotic subcultures such as video games? Sept. 11? Or is talk of the "death of literature" simple exaggeration?
I certainly don’t think the “death of literature” stems from TV or video games. As a publisher who is primarily interested in serious works of fiction with a decidedly pop sensibility, I’d be a fool to think that people aren’t reading simply because TV or video games exist—and I’m not going to even touch the 9/11 portion of the question . . . To me, anyway, this argument about media culture seems as reductive and pointless as arguing that Marilyn Manson’s music was responsible for the deaths at Columbine. People don’t read for a variety of reasons—but the important thing to remember is that many people still do read novels—and those are the people we try to reach. If literature is in trouble, its simply because the large conglomerates and machines that are in charge of running practically every aspect of commercial publishing have the power to dictate what gets read and why. I find that inherently dangerous—the notion that literature is being sold to the general public, largely by pandering. There’s this insane notion that everything must be dumbed down now for it to succeed, and that’s just bullshit.
2. And what is literature, anyway? Should the traditional novel be considered the prime example of it?
What is literature? I think that depends on who you ask! I don’t do well with questions that are completely subjective—what I think literature is may be totally different from the guy living down the block from me, and so on. I wouldn’t feel comfortable putting literature in a box like that, and, frankly, neither should you.
3. Prizes and awards are playing an increasing role in determining an author's career-trajectory. In short, winning a major literary prize can win a writer a large audience overnight (not to mention, considerable fame and financial remuneration). But, as British critic Jason Cowley has observed, what is lost is the the ability for readers to think in a critically complex fashion.
Are literary prizes dangerous in this regard? Do they convey to the public the message that "this book is worth reading and all these others aren't"?
I think the entire idea of slapping a sticker on a book that reads “Booker Prize” or whatever, is marketing, plain and simple. Personally, I usually shy away from any book that’s won a prize, because I feel in some psychotic way that I’m being forced to read it, as in “It won a Pulitzer! It’s got to be good!” The prizes are nothing more than a way for publishers to make more money—which is always the first priority, sadly—and for authors to feed their usually already enormous egos. That being said, I wouldn’t exactly turn the Pulitzer down if it was offered to me . . . or one of my authors J The problem is that books by independent presses rarely win those sorts of big-name prizes—and often the books indie presses put out are among the most deserving. Its all politics, at the end of the day.
4. Literary publishing has always been a marriage of art and commerce. But in recent years, the Cult of the Deal has become more influential, with agents demanding larger advances and marketing people paying especially close attention to sales figures. Is the "art" side of the business being pushed out?
Art is definitely being pushed out—its one of the reason I started Impetus Press. I wanted to make a space for writers where “the bottom line” wasn’t the motivating force behind the venture. We take on books we love, and authors we care about. We help nurture their careers and their writing, and if a book isn’t commercially viable, we’ll still take it on if we believe in it. Very few publishing houses will do this anymore, and its really sad. When art is created simply to be bought and sold, artistic merit often goes right out the window.
5. Many major publishers now refuse to accept "unsolicited" work; that is, they will not even consider work unless it is agented. Is this a sound policy from point of view of finding the best new literary voices? Isn't there a chance good writing will be squeezed out?
Sure, voices will be lost that way, and it’s a shame. But I’m not sure what the alternative would be. The slush pile has moved to the agent’s desk instead of the publishers, and many agents are just overwhelmed with submissions. However, that doesn’t mean I agree with the whole agenting process in general. It’s often a catch-22. I know from my own personal experience as an author, that getting an agent was like finding the Holy Grail—no one would deal with me at all until I had one. I’m sure there are many good agents out there, but that was not my experience. Having an agent didn’t give me better access to editors and the publishing world in general because everything was done through my agent—cutting me out of the process entirely. The MS only went to the editors she chose, and I had little say in the matter. Since we couldn’t agree on how the book should’ve been marketed and sold—and to whom—the book was never placed. I don’t have an agent now, and it’s a big relief.
6. Alternatively, for small presses that do accept unsolicited work, is the problem that the majors are squeezing the small houses at the distribution/retail marketing end? In other words, even when good writers get published by small houses, do they have a fair chance of winning an audience? Or are the major houses introducing an overly corporate, overly aggressive mentality to the book trade?
I’d say that good books always have a chance—no matter who publishes them. What kills small presses though, is that we don’t have the dollars for marketing—we can’t compete with the big guys in that respect. They’re taking out huge full-page ads in the New York Times Review of Books, and we’re taking out small ads online, and in smaller regional newspapers. But if a book is well written, I do firmly believe the word will get out. Our latest title FIRES, by Nick Antosca, is doing very well right now, and its largely through web-buzz.
7. Returning to the question of agents -- are they too powerful? If so, in what ways? Or are they a largely beneficial and necessary element of contemporary publishing?
Are agents too powerful? Well, I think it depends on the agent! Again, the problem I have with agents is that the entire process forces the writer to take a back seat and be largely powerless—and that can be dangerous indeed. Mainstream publishing is, in general, too powerful—I don’t think you can simply point the finger at agents and hold them responsible for the whole mess.
8. Does America have too many publishers? Or too few?
Too few. Actually, too few that are staying in business long enough to really make a difference in the publishing landscape. This is a brutal business for indie presses, and most of us are hanging on by our fingernails. Change will not come from the majors, if it happens, the state of publishing will be augmented by the indies, the little guys, who slowly and quietly take over.
9. In your opinion, how will new technologies such as the e-book or audio books affect the "form" of the book?
Audio books are useful if you’re on a road trip, but it completely changes the experience of “reading.” I love the book as a tactile object—its very important to me as a publisher—the way books look, feel, and even smell. I can’t imagine I’d want to ever give up the experience of holding a book in my hand and turning the pages. E-Books terrify me for that reason—plus, they’re really hard on your eyes! Who wants to stare at a screen all day long reading a book? Not me.
10. Putting aside the hype, does the Internet provide a real opportunity to publishers? If so, how?
The Internet provides publishers with the opportunity to create a “buzz” around a particular book or author, and that is very, very useful. Communities such as Bookslut.com, or Galleycat.com really help sell books, because so many people read these sites each day. Any good publisher takes advantage of the various literary blogs—its just common sense to do so. Like it or not, we live online these days!
11. And what role can traditional, venerable institutions such as libraries and English Departments play in reversing the decline in sales of literary fiction?
Libraries and English Department are good resources for publishers, but the actuality is that they don’t purchase nearly enough books to really make a difference. They help, sure, but the sales from these avenues are not going to save publishing single-handedly.
12. What projects are you working on right now that you're excited about?
Right now we’re working on a novel by Christian TeBordo entitled WE GO LIQUID, about a young boy who starts receiving SPAM emails from his dead mother, and a collection of short stories entitled RYAN SEACREST IS FAMOUS, by Dave Housely.
Bio: Jennifer Banash was born and raised in New York City. She graduated with a B.A. in Fine Art from Arizona State University and has worked as a copywriter, editor, waitress, television news writer, party promoter, and exotic dancer. She lives, works and writes in Iowa City, Iowa, and is a doctoral candidate in English at the University of Iowa. In August 2005, she co-founded Impetus Press with her partner, Willy Blackmore. Her first novel, Hollywoodland: An American Fairy Tale, is published by Impetus Press.
1. Literature is in trouble -- that is, more trouble than usual. Why do you think this is? The increasing prevalence of TV? The distractions of narcotic subcultures such as video games? Sept. 11? Or is talk of the "death of literature" simple exaggeration?
I certainly don’t think the “death of literature” stems from TV or video games. As a publisher who is primarily interested in serious works of fiction with a decidedly pop sensibility, I’d be a fool to think that people aren’t reading simply because TV or video games exist—and I’m not going to even touch the 9/11 portion of the question . . . To me, anyway, this argument about media culture seems as reductive and pointless as arguing that Marilyn Manson’s music was responsible for the deaths at Columbine. People don’t read for a variety of reasons—but the important thing to remember is that many people still do read novels—and those are the people we try to reach. If literature is in trouble, its simply because the large conglomerates and machines that are in charge of running practically every aspect of commercial publishing have the power to dictate what gets read and why. I find that inherently dangerous—the notion that literature is being sold to the general public, largely by pandering. There’s this insane notion that everything must be dumbed down now for it to succeed, and that’s just bullshit.
2. And what is literature, anyway? Should the traditional novel be considered the prime example of it?
What is literature? I think that depends on who you ask! I don’t do well with questions that are completely subjective—what I think literature is may be totally different from the guy living down the block from me, and so on. I wouldn’t feel comfortable putting literature in a box like that, and, frankly, neither should you.
3. Prizes and awards are playing an increasing role in determining an author's career-trajectory. In short, winning a major literary prize can win a writer a large audience overnight (not to mention, considerable fame and financial remuneration). But, as British critic Jason Cowley has observed, what is lost is the the ability for readers to think in a critically complex fashion.
Are literary prizes dangerous in this regard? Do they convey to the public the message that "this book is worth reading and all these others aren't"?
I think the entire idea of slapping a sticker on a book that reads “Booker Prize” or whatever, is marketing, plain and simple. Personally, I usually shy away from any book that’s won a prize, because I feel in some psychotic way that I’m being forced to read it, as in “It won a Pulitzer! It’s got to be good!” The prizes are nothing more than a way for publishers to make more money—which is always the first priority, sadly—and for authors to feed their usually already enormous egos. That being said, I wouldn’t exactly turn the Pulitzer down if it was offered to me . . . or one of my authors J The problem is that books by independent presses rarely win those sorts of big-name prizes—and often the books indie presses put out are among the most deserving. Its all politics, at the end of the day.
4. Literary publishing has always been a marriage of art and commerce. But in recent years, the Cult of the Deal has become more influential, with agents demanding larger advances and marketing people paying especially close attention to sales figures. Is the "art" side of the business being pushed out?
Art is definitely being pushed out—its one of the reason I started Impetus Press. I wanted to make a space for writers where “the bottom line” wasn’t the motivating force behind the venture. We take on books we love, and authors we care about. We help nurture their careers and their writing, and if a book isn’t commercially viable, we’ll still take it on if we believe in it. Very few publishing houses will do this anymore, and its really sad. When art is created simply to be bought and sold, artistic merit often goes right out the window.
5. Many major publishers now refuse to accept "unsolicited" work; that is, they will not even consider work unless it is agented. Is this a sound policy from point of view of finding the best new literary voices? Isn't there a chance good writing will be squeezed out?
Sure, voices will be lost that way, and it’s a shame. But I’m not sure what the alternative would be. The slush pile has moved to the agent’s desk instead of the publishers, and many agents are just overwhelmed with submissions. However, that doesn’t mean I agree with the whole agenting process in general. It’s often a catch-22. I know from my own personal experience as an author, that getting an agent was like finding the Holy Grail—no one would deal with me at all until I had one. I’m sure there are many good agents out there, but that was not my experience. Having an agent didn’t give me better access to editors and the publishing world in general because everything was done through my agent—cutting me out of the process entirely. The MS only went to the editors she chose, and I had little say in the matter. Since we couldn’t agree on how the book should’ve been marketed and sold—and to whom—the book was never placed. I don’t have an agent now, and it’s a big relief.
6. Alternatively, for small presses that do accept unsolicited work, is the problem that the majors are squeezing the small houses at the distribution/retail marketing end? In other words, even when good writers get published by small houses, do they have a fair chance of winning an audience? Or are the major houses introducing an overly corporate, overly aggressive mentality to the book trade?
I’d say that good books always have a chance—no matter who publishes them. What kills small presses though, is that we don’t have the dollars for marketing—we can’t compete with the big guys in that respect. They’re taking out huge full-page ads in the New York Times Review of Books, and we’re taking out small ads online, and in smaller regional newspapers. But if a book is well written, I do firmly believe the word will get out. Our latest title FIRES, by Nick Antosca, is doing very well right now, and its largely through web-buzz.
7. Returning to the question of agents -- are they too powerful? If so, in what ways? Or are they a largely beneficial and necessary element of contemporary publishing?
Are agents too powerful? Well, I think it depends on the agent! Again, the problem I have with agents is that the entire process forces the writer to take a back seat and be largely powerless—and that can be dangerous indeed. Mainstream publishing is, in general, too powerful—I don’t think you can simply point the finger at agents and hold them responsible for the whole mess.
8. Does America have too many publishers? Or too few?
Too few. Actually, too few that are staying in business long enough to really make a difference in the publishing landscape. This is a brutal business for indie presses, and most of us are hanging on by our fingernails. Change will not come from the majors, if it happens, the state of publishing will be augmented by the indies, the little guys, who slowly and quietly take over.
9. In your opinion, how will new technologies such as the e-book or audio books affect the "form" of the book?
Audio books are useful if you’re on a road trip, but it completely changes the experience of “reading.” I love the book as a tactile object—its very important to me as a publisher—the way books look, feel, and even smell. I can’t imagine I’d want to ever give up the experience of holding a book in my hand and turning the pages. E-Books terrify me for that reason—plus, they’re really hard on your eyes! Who wants to stare at a screen all day long reading a book? Not me.
10. Putting aside the hype, does the Internet provide a real opportunity to publishers? If so, how?
The Internet provides publishers with the opportunity to create a “buzz” around a particular book or author, and that is very, very useful. Communities such as Bookslut.com, or Galleycat.com really help sell books, because so many people read these sites each day. Any good publisher takes advantage of the various literary blogs—its just common sense to do so. Like it or not, we live online these days!
11. And what role can traditional, venerable institutions such as libraries and English Departments play in reversing the decline in sales of literary fiction?
Libraries and English Department are good resources for publishers, but the actuality is that they don’t purchase nearly enough books to really make a difference. They help, sure, but the sales from these avenues are not going to save publishing single-handedly.
12. What projects are you working on right now that you're excited about?
Right now we’re working on a novel by Christian TeBordo entitled WE GO LIQUID, about a young boy who starts receiving SPAM emails from his dead mother, and a collection of short stories entitled RYAN SEACREST IS FAMOUS, by Dave Housely.
Bio: Jennifer Banash was born and raised in New York City. She graduated with a B.A. in Fine Art from Arizona State University and has worked as a copywriter, editor, waitress, television news writer, party promoter, and exotic dancer. She lives, works and writes in Iowa City, Iowa, and is a doctoral candidate in English at the University of Iowa. In August 2005, she co-founded Impetus Press with her partner, Willy Blackmore. Her first novel, Hollywoodland: An American Fairy Tale, is published by Impetus Press.
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