Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Art and the leash
Obviously, this continuum could be extended outward much further still: to Arab/Israeli history, to the effects of British colonialism in its waning days in the Middle East, to the advent of Cold War politics and its effects on those states in the region (all, until the Iranian revolution) which found themselves acting, to some degree or another, as proxies whose actions either advanced or diminished the geopolitical interests of superpowers.
The Cold War is over now -- at least, as we traditionally understand that term. But its dynamics remain in place. And of course, art cannot "change" any of this. Nevertheless, it can still engage with some of the complexities of the world in an informed way; art does make differences.
One can apply this rule of thumb to many regions that have seen their fair share of suffering -- South Korean literature and cinema come to mind for me. Therefore, even though it's understandable that the last thing the world needs is another tritely written novel, short story or poem which tells us the bloodying obvious about politics at its least restrained ("war is bad"), contemporary literary art is culpable of a "virtual triteness" when it pretends -- this is the correct word -- that events Over There will not have an eventual effect Over Here.
p.s. If you'd like to see the original post with a pertinent comment by Zachariah Wells, please click here.
ART AND THE LEASH
I spend a lot of time -- perhaps an inordinate, shameful amount of time -- surfing the lit-blogosphere. This is partly the result of my living overseas and needing some way to keep in touch. It's also a reflection of a belief the lit-blogosphere matters, and that the Internet, despite its many short-comings, represents one of the best paths for literature to save itself.
One thing that has recently struck me, however, is the near-total silence surrounding the current Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I'm speaking of course of silence in the lit-blogosphere; there's no shortage of coverage -- and opinion-expressing -- elsewhere. And maybe this is partly the result of disaster-fatigue: a seemingly interminable state of strife between the Palestinians and the Israelis, the invasion of Afghanistan, the invasion of Iraq, the war two-and-a-half years ago between Israel and Hezbollah (in fact, a war whose territory covered most of southern Lebanon), and half-acknowledged "low-intensity" conflicts in Darfur, areas of the Congo, the southern Philippines and southern Thailand are now coated by the thick patina of domestic, economic disaster. Numbness is a natural response to this much in the way of interesting times.
But it's not simply numbness, I think, that inspires the litblogosphere's silence on politics; it's also a belief specific to the West that politics and art cannot, by their very natures, mix, and that to attempt to do so is to mark one as a tiresome ideologue at best, an artistic all-thumbs at worst. Furthermore, the argument of arguments -- the ur-argument of the institutions of the literary establishment -- is such engagement by artists is futile. This is a truth apparently discovered after the end of the Romantic Movement and during the bloody middle of World War One. Poetry can't change the world because it can't change human nature.
But what happens in a world without poetry? That is, what happens to a world that lacks politically aware poetry when the age itself is political? What happens to art in times when history, to use a paraphrase employed by Jan Kott, is "let off the leash"?
Monday, January 26, 2009
"How to Publish in a Recession"
Levi Asher -- author, lit-blogger, critic (LitKicks)
CBT: When I started this interview series it was already clear that publishing -- especially of literary fiction -- was in dire straits. At that time, one explanation that was fashionable was 9/11 was the reason people weren't reading as much literature (or as much anything) as they used to. Now we are living in a time when the long-term repercussions of 9/11 are still with us. But using 9/11 as a primary explanation for what ails literary publishing simply doesn't work. For one thing, we are now in the midst of a particularly serious recession, and for another, it is clear the general decline in reading is a widespread -- and possibly unstoppable -- phenomenon that has roots which go back decades.
What is your take on the current depressed state of literary publishing? Is it a passing phase? Or is it an intractable problem -- in other words, it is the new normal? And if the latter, what can be done to counteract it?
LA: Actually, I can't agree with the premise that there is a general decline in reading. As a parent, I've seen my kids become just as obsessed with books as I did when I was their age. Literature retains the same appeal it always has. If there's a decline in reading, how do you explain the success of JK Rowling, Dan Brown, Stephanie Meyer? Why would there be a thriving literary blog scene if books did not excite people? Why are so many popular Hollywood movies -- today, I'm thinking of "The Reader", "Revolutionary Road", "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button", not to mention John Krasinski's upcoming adaptation of a David Foster Wallace novel -- made from literary sources? I could go on and on. There is no decline in reading.
CBT: How much potential do you think the Internet has as a vehicle of publishing? It's clear that there is a place for online criticism; the lit-blogosphere is dominated by it. The blogger Dan Green has even coined a phrase for this form of critical writing: the crit-blogosphere. But the crit-blogosphere's logical partner -- the fic-blogosphere -- is marginalized. Not many people read short stories or novels online.
Will the Internet really become the medium in which serious people both publish and read fiction? Or is this a technological pipe-dream, and is it more a question of using the Internet as an effective means to sell and distribute printed books?
LA: I'm afraid my answer here will offer no surprise. I think the Internet has all the potential in the world as a vehicle for publishing. It is certainly the most relevant medium for reading, probably already more relevant than the physical. And I remain hopeful that people will read short stories or novels online -- perhaps in serial form.
Remember, many of the greatest novels of all time were published and popularized not as books but as newspaper or magazine serials. Henry James, for instance, became popular because his stories and novels appeared in magazines. Modern publishing is way too obsessed with the pristine and perfect book, but the book is not the only fount of great literature.
CBT: It is arguable the Internet isn't effective as a medium for publishing long works of fiction because very few people can stand looking at regular screens for the necessary length of time. But e-ink provides a solution to this. It eliminates eye strain.
How much potential do you think e-ink and e-book technologies have? Do you see e-books catching on with the public? And do they provide a reasonable business model?
LA: Again, I'm afraid I may sound like a chirping optimist, but I believe electronic publishing will soon dominate the publishing field -- though physical books will always exist as well, since readers like them -- and I'm excited about the latest trends.
CBT: In the past few years, articles and blog posts (for example, at LitKicks) have appeared criticizing the pricing of books. Are books too expensive? Has this been a factor in reducing the size of the book-buying audience over the last twenty or so years?
LA: Yes, unfortunately the commercial book publishing industry suffers from a tradition of catering to an elite audience. You can see a movie or download a record album for about ten bucks. That's the correct price point. New books come out with price tags between $24 and $30 -- and then they wonder why the whole industry is suffering. Somebody's out of touch with the consumer here ...
CBT: Staying with the same theme. Literary novels were once publishing in hardcover and then, several months later (and a spot on the best-seller lists willing), they were available as affordable pocket-sized paperbacks. However, in the 1980s this practice ceased and literary paperbacks started being published in North America as pricier trade paperbacks. Only genre fiction retained the pocket-book form. In retrospect, was this a prudent decision by publishers of literary fiction? Or should the literary pocket-book make a return?
LA: I love smaller paperback books. Because I am an urban person who walks a lot, it is very important to me that a book can comfortably fit into my pocket. Most paperbacks can, but the larger formats are a tight fit. I would like to see smaller paperbacks make a comeback, yes.
CBT: Agents now have enormous power, effectively controlling which writers get access to acquisition editors at major houses. Furthermore, agents find themselves under enormous pressure, acting as the line of first readers who have to sift through avalanches of submissions. Is this tenable over the long run? Is it good for art? Or should large houses be accepting both agented and unsolicited submissions?
LA: I'm sure it's good when it works. I'm currently signed to a literary agent, and I'm happy to not have to shop my proposal around directly to publishing firms. Since I'm not sure how important the major book publishing firms will be in the future, though, I don't know if it matters so much whether or not they often publish unsolicited manuscripts.
CBT: Literary prizes have also grown in power. They have arguably replaced the glowing review as a marketing tool. But are they as effective as criticism in building a contemporary canon? After all, critics can express nuance, prizes can't. Do book prizes give the message: this books is worth reading and all these others aren't?
LA: I get instinctively annoyed when I read extravagant coverage of this prize or that prize, and I've made it a practice not to cover the regular run of literary prizes (I make an exception for the Nobel Prize, because I like their healthy international style). But, there is probably more crankiness than substance to my position here. Prizes help writers and they help publishers. Hopefully, they help readers too. I don't pay much attention to prizes, but I have to admit they are probably a force for good in the lit scene.
CBT: Thinking of your own site, what sorts of changes do you foresee in it? Are blogs destined to become the new magazines? Will you start using a format (and possibly working with partners) in a magazine-type way? Or is blogging as it's currently defined how you want to keep posting work on the Net?
LA: It's funny that many of your questions have danced around the project I'm currently doing on LitKicks. I'm attempting to write a serial memoir -- the chronicle of my fifteen years in the internet industry, both as the founder of a literary website and as an employee in the online departments of entertainment companies like Time Warner and A&E Network -- by posting each chapter as a blog post. I'm very excited
about this, and I have been getting great responses from readers.Because I am writing this "book" as a series of blog posts, I find myself writing with a "blogger" sensibility -- keep it short and punchy, don't lose the reader -- and I believe this will help me write a better, more audience-responsive memoir than if I churned it out in isolation and then sent the whole thing to an agent. This "memoir-in-progress" is the LitKicks project of the moment.
Bio: Levi Asher is the founder and a co-writer (primarily with Jemalah Earle and Michael Norris) of LitKicks. He has been one of the primary voices of the lit-blogosphere since its inception. He is also a novelist, whose work can be found online. He is currently working on a memoir.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Cease-fire in Gaza
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Kassia Krozser -- writer, critic (Booksquare)
CBT: When I started this interview series it was already clear that publishing --
especially of literary fiction -- was in dire straits. At that time, one
explanation that was fashionable was 9/11 was the reason people weren't reading
as much literature (or as much anything) as they used to. Now we are living in a
time when the long-term repercussions of 9/11 are still with us. But using 9/11
as a primary explanation for what ails literary publishing simply doesn't work.
For one thing, we are now in the midst of a particularly serious recession, and
for another, it is clear the general decline in reading is a widespread -- and
possibly unstoppable -- phenomenon that has roots which go back decades.
What is your take on the current depressed state of literary publishing? Is it
a passing phase? Or is it an intractable problem -- in other words, it is the
new normal? And if the latter, what can be done to counteract it?
KK: I'm actually quite enthusiastic about the prospects for books, if not the publishing business as we know it. If you look at it from the outside, the way publishing works is quite unsustainable, from the way they sell books to the fact that they admittedly don't have a clue how to determine what books will become big sellers. That being said, lots of books are being written and lots of books are being published. And there are a lot of smart people out in litland thinking of ways to get books and readers together -- from continuing to publish novels to thinking beyond the book.
There are always a lot of scare stories about the loss of young readers -- omigod! they don't read when they're in high school, when they're in college, when they're new graduates -- but think about it. Those years that people seemingly don't read are the very same years when they are immersed first in educational reading (it's just awful that we've turned reading into a solely academic exercise; way back when I was a kid, we actually had time to read for pleasure while in the classroom) and then establishing themselves in first careers. Not to mention, there are a lot of wild oats being sown. The readers of those groups come back to books later.
Not everyone is a reader, not like I'm a reader. We forget that. I remind people that I know people who only "read" audiobooks. It's a time thing for some, it's a personal preference for others. Some people are slow readers, some people only read one author (I have a sibling who is this fussy...and her mother's a librarian!), some like only fiction published in hardcover (yep, I have a friend who won't read paperback), some only read biographies. Before we worry about the loss of readers, we need to take stock of what reading means.
I think if we go back through reading history, we'll see the same sad stories. Think about it. When did this nation, this world, reach widespread literacy? How many people had the luxury of sitting around reading all day? Had the money to spend on lighting (candles, for example) to illuminate pages of books after a long day of work. We have a romantic notion of reading. I like it personally because it suits me; I'm not sure it reflects reality.
Literary publishing -- if we define it as novels considered "literary" -- is a small genre in a big publishing field. Genre fiction is and has always been (in my opinion) a more widely read category. Even so, far too many books are published every year. It's impossible to keep up. It might not be a bad thing to let readers catch their breath and it might not be a bad thing for the business to publish in a way that minimizes returns while maximizing exposure of readers to books.
CBT: How much potential do you think the Internet has as a vehicle of publishing?
It's clear that there is a place for online criticism; the lit-blogosphere is
dominated by it. The blogger Dan Green has even coined a phrase for this form of
critical writing: the crit-blogosphere. But the crit-blogosphere's logical
partner -- the fic-blogosphere -- is marginalized. Not many people read short
stories or novels online.
Will the Internet really become the medium in which serious people both publish
and read fiction? Or is this a technological pipe-dream, and is it more a
question of using the Internet as an effective means to sell and distribute
printed books?
KK: The Internet is *already* a medium in which serious people both publish and read fiction. I don't think the online environment lends itself to long-form reading, per se, but that doesn't mean it isn't being done. I'm sure it is, just not by me (which is not to say I haven't, nor is it to say that I don't read Very Long Stuff online).
We like to confine our vision of books to "books", those booky things. But when we expand our vision of books to "story", then we have a future. Books are new to us as a species. Story, however, has captivated us since the first campfire. What we want as humans -- I truly believe -- is great story, interesting story, story that takes us outside our ordinary worlds (be it silly story, fluffy story, gory story) for a time. How story gets to us is a matter of personal preference coupled with the format the artist chooses. The Internet, if we bookish people allow it, provides us a chance to expand our stories into different modes of telling.
CBT: It is arguable the Internet isn't effective as a medium for publishing long
works of fiction because very few people can stand looking at regular screens
for the necessary length of time. But e-ink provides a solution to this. It
eliminates eye strain.
How much potential do you think e-ink and e-book technologies have? Do you see
e-books catching on with the public? And do they provide a reasonable business
model?
KK: I own a Kindle and iPhone (I also owned a Rocket eBook, way back when), and both are great for reading. For various reasons, I prefer long-form reading on my Kindle, though if the iPhone screen were just a little bigger... I have never been convinced that the world is clamoring for a dedicated e-reading device. We already carry too much stuff around with us on a daily basis. If I could pare down my accessories (laptop, phone, Kindle, real life stuff), I would jump for joy.
When I take my Kindle out, I get a lot of questions, a lot of interest. I'm most surprised by the level of awareness among ordinary people (people who aren't part of our relatively small online lit community). The flight attendant on my London plane said, "Oh, you have one of those, too. I'm thinking of getting one." A guy at the nail salon (my nail salon seems to get a lot of male customers) said, "I've heard about those." When I was shopping, I passed by a woman sitting in a courtyard, reading her Kindle. Had I not been late, I would have approached her. Consumers are very interested in e-readers. Right now, price is a deterrent, availability is a deterrent, and I think for a lot of heavy readers, it's going to take some hand-selling to convince them that this is a "real" book.
Personally, if there were a way to get e-readers into the hands of more college/high school kids, I think the market would explode. Not only would have a native audience going into adulthood, but their parents and parents' friends would get a chance to interact with the device. Further down the road, these devices must have color/high resolution to really be of benefit. Right now, they really only work for text-based items (books, newspapers). Add in other types of publications, and you have the makings of robust market!
CBT: In the past few years, articles and blog posts (for example, at LitKicks)
have appeared criticizing the pricing of books. Are books too expensive? Has
this been a factor in reducing the size of the book-buying audience over the
last twenty or so years?
KK: Wow, touchy subject. Let me put it this way: for the holidays, I purchased three copies of the same (hardcover) book. One for me, two for friends. This book, this format had a lot of value to me. But the automatic printing of "literary" fiction as hardcover, I think, really limits the potential for the book. Once you get into the $20 range for a new author, particularly, a lot of readers hesitate. It's a risk, and while twenty-plus dollars doesn't seem like that much money for some, for others, it's a good chunk of change (or two to three other books). I feel cheated when I shell out that kind of money -- not to mention time -- on a book that is "meh." So prices absolutely depress sales.
I know a lot of readers who, for financial or personal reasons, will skip the hardcover release and wait for the paperback (some for trade, some for mass market). If I were a publisher, I'd worry about this. So much can happen in that year between releases, not the least of which is negative word-of-mouth. You peel off readers right off the bat. Then readers forget -- sure some people keep detailed book shopping lists. They're the exception. And, of course, there are soooo many books, so little time. It makes no sense to me that publishers would willingly shave off so much potential audience.
I see the next question also relates to this, so one more thought: the value publishers place on their product is not necessarily the value readers/consumers place on this product. I read really fast, and spending hardcover prices would bankrupt me (not literally). I'm lucky that books don't compete with other necessities in my budget -- let's consider for a moment that the biggest consumers of fiction are women. You can safely assume that a good number of those women have families, kids, houses, pets. With those expenses, suddenly the seeming bargain of $25 dollars isn't such a good deal. These readers wait, borrow, or buy used.
I often think it would help if NY publishers spent a little ore time speaking to real, book-buying customers.
CBT: Staying with the same theme. Literary novels were once publishing in
hardcover and then, several months later (and a spot on the best-seller lists
willing), they were available as affordable pocket-sized paperbacks. However, in
the 1980s this practice ceased and literary paperbacks started being published
in North America as pricier trade paperbacks. Only genre fiction retained the
pocket-book form. In retrospect, was this a prudent decision by publishers of
literary fiction? Or should the literary pocket-book make a return?
KK: Bring back the literary mass market! For the reasons I cited above. Let's be honest: publishers don't go to trade or hardcover for prestige reasons -- though those do factor in to a certain degree; trade is seen as more "literary" than mass market -- these are business decisions, and business decisions often involve dollars and cents. So my question back at the publishers is this: have you ever done a serious study to quantify the sales you've lost due to the decision to release these books in more expensive formats? Not just due to price, but due to loss of consumer awareness. Think about it: if your marketing push comes at the expensive price point, how do you recapture those interested readers who stayed on the sidelines until the net price point down?
CBT: Agents now have enormous power, effectively controlling which writers get
access to acquisition editors at major houses. Furthermore, agents find
themselves under enormous pressure, acting as the line of first readers who have
to sift through avalanches of submissions. Is this tenable over the long run? Is
it good for art? Or should large houses be accepting both agented and
unsolicited submissions?
KK: There are always ways past the gatekeepers: conference meetings, chance run-ins. If you pay attention, you can get past the agent gauntlet. Of course, agents -- and I'm convinced that it's sometimes harder to get an agent than to be published -- do a lot more than match authors and editors. These editorial relationships are like gold, of course, so let's start there. A good agent will know the right editors for your work. Sure, you can hit the slush pile and hope the right person for your story picks it up; a good agent knows the editorial map. They know who likes snarky voices, who loves dark, angsty stuff, who is looking for new authors.
Your agent also helps negotiate the best possible deal for you. I've been working with royalty-type accounting (Participations, actually, which makes standard royalties look like child's play!) for most of my professional career. I know these contracts, these clauses, these calculations like I know my cat. I know what I want in a deal, what I can give. Most importantly, I know I am the worst possible advocate on my behalf. I am a marshmallow. I am a wimp. I want an agent out there fighting on my behalf. It's worth every cent of that commission, in my opinion.
That's the author perspective. From the publisher perspective, I'll go for diplomacy. Not everyone who can write a book, should write a book. And most authors really don't have a good perspective on their talent, their story. While there are gems out there, it takes a lot of time and effort to find them. I'm not sure I'd like to be the author read after a particularly bad example from the slush pile. And given the amount of work placed on the shoulders of acquisition editors, you can molder in that slush pile for a long time. It never seems to get smaller.
CBT: Literary prizes have also grown in power. They have arguably replaced the
glowing review as a marketing tool. But are they as effective as criticism in
building a contemporary canon? After all, critics can express nuance, prizes
can't. Do book prizes give the message: this books is worth reading and all
these others aren't?
KK: Have they really grown in power? I'm not sure there is as much general consumer/reader awareness as the press coverage/litblog coverage suggests. Certainly some prizes have a cachet, but overall and generally? Not quite convinced. If you don't know anything about the award, can it really influence you? What amazes me is that the only real imprimatur of excellence is Oprah Winfrey. How is that one talk show host carries more weight with the reading public than all the critics and prizes in the world?
The answer to that is quite simple: people trust Oprah. They've developed a relationship with her. They believe she will steer them right. Most critics don't have that kind of relationship with readers -- why should I trust Jane Doe writing for the New York Times Book Review? Does she have an agenda? Does she know the editors? Do the editors know she'll write the review they can't, for political reasons perhaps?
Literary criticism is a different animal than a review, though they do sometimes seem interchangeable. You need, in my opinion, to be familiar with a work to appreciate critical analysis of it. A review should help you decide whether or not to pick up that book.
CBT: Thinking of your own site, what sorts of changes do you foresee in it? Are
blogs destined to become the new magazines? Will you start using a format (and
possibly working with partners) in a magazine-type way? Or is blogging as it's
currently defined how you want to keep posting work on the Net?
KK: I am, I think, a natural blogger. I work well in a long essay format (though I have been known to be pithy when forced!). I am not in a position to market myself far and wide as a freelancer, nor am I as interested as I should be in writing what someone else wants me to write.
That being said, I'm always thinking ahead. I've changed the blog, the voice, the focus over time. I'd bore myself and my readers if I didn't. I am a bit in love with new ways to publish online. I see blogging tools as personal content managements systems, some being capable of doing so much more than publish entries in date order. I'm always exploring new ways to expand this, but that time thing seems to be a limiter. As this current project winds down, I plan to devote more time to new ideas. The magazine thing is a format I keep in mind, though, obviously, one designed for the web world, not print world.
Bio: Kassia is a founding partner of Medialoper, where she applies her natural love and skepticism to the ever-changing world of entertainment media. The daughter of a librarian, she finds dissecting and discussing books is like breathing — her insightful reviews appear at Paperback Reader. She was a member of the now-defunct LitBlog Co-op and is a columnist for Romancing the Blog. She’s also published in a variety of other venues, and has, shockingly, received awards and accolades for her work. But she rarely mentions this as it seems like bragging.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Daniel E. Pritchard -- poet, essayist, critic (The Wooden Spoon, David R. Godine, Publisher)
Daniel E. Pritchard of The Wooden Spoon and David R. Godine. Publisher:
CBT: When I started this interview series it was already clear that publishing -- especially of literary fiction -- was in dire straits. At that time, one explanation that was fashionable was 9/11 was the reason people weren't reading as much literature (or as much anything) as they used to. Now we are living in a time when the long-term repercussions of 9/11 are still with us. But using 9/11 as a primary explanation for what ails literary publishing simply doesn't work. For one thing, we are now in the midst of a particularly serious recession, and for another, it is clear the general decline in reading is a widespread -- and possibly unstoppable -- phenomenon that has roots which go back decades.
What is your take on the current depressed state of literary publishing? Is it a passing phase? Or is it an intractable problem -- in other words, it is the new normal? And if the latter, what can be done to counteract it?
DEP: I think that the 9/11 explanation was always a red herring—it never made any sense to me, at least. The best explanation, beyond it being simply random (which is possible but people like to feel they have control, so this explanation is also unpopular), is that there was a shift in American culture over the last 40 years, in which the public perception of elitism has become drastically negative. When you look at culture in the 1940s—60s, broadly speaking, being an member of the elite was a positive role; you had Trilling and Eliot, for example, and each of them was openly elite in their attitudes -- although on different sides of the political equation -- but nevertheless respected.
In the sixties and seventies, something changed: the kids didn't want to be like their parents, "real knowledge" became something antithetical to what it took to be a member of the elite. Instead of Trilling, you had Kerouac; instead of Auden, you had Ginsberg. The academy, as it had been, fell out of favor. Now it's a real insult to be called an elitist; it's one of the more common smears that conservatives use against liberals and something that liberals desperately try to deflect—neither side wants the label, but we obviously do want the best possible people in charge, and anyone would admit that, so this is purely a shift of image. You have to mimic Joe Sixpack but think like a member of the elite to be successful.
Literary fiction has felt the effects of that shift because literature, I think, is perceived as something just for "smart people", for elites. My family (all working-class) can't bear to buy me just books for Christmas, say, because it isn't "fun" and books are "boring." I have to laugh. The reading landscape probably looks much more like the early twentieth century, with most people reading popular books if anything and a few people delving into up-market an literary titles. There's nothing to be done to counteract this, not systemically. Although, I think it is changing among younger people who have had "coolness" and "fun" sold to them all their lives; who saw the catastrophic stupidity of that culture in the 1980s (hair bands and such).
But really: focus on the work at hand, as a publisher, author, critic, etc.—that's the best course of action. Make something worthwhile, by whatever standards you hold, and be brutally honest about it to yourself at least. That's the way.
CBT: How much potential do you think the Internet has as a vehicle of publishing? It's clear that there is a place for online criticism; the lit-blogosphere is dominated by it. The blogger Dan Green has even coined a phrase for this form of critical writing: the crit-blogosphere. But the crit-blogosphere's logical partner -- the fic-blogosphere -- is marginalized. Not many people read short stories or novels online.
Will the Internet really become the medium in which serious people both publish and read fiction? Or is this a technological pipe-dream, and is it more a question of using the Internet as an effective means to sell and distribute printed books?
DEP: The more studies I see that are done on the way that people read online, the more I think that it is a medium better suited to fact and information distribution than for literature. So maybe non-fiction books, criticism, history, etc., have a permanent place on the internet. The more successful digital readers all mimic the folio as much as possible, and that's where literature seems to be gaining ground. Now, whether this is essential to the way we think and engage with the folio versus the screen is still uncertain. I tend to believe that newspaper- and magazine-length work is completely viable online, and it will eventually put an end to those previous types of short-shelf-life, disposable print media; no reason to fight that. Newspapers don't last on a shelf, so in the long-term we're just losing the waste. Publishers just have to make the internet work economically now, that's where the block seems to be.
CBT: It is arguable the Internet isn't effective as a medium for publishing long works of fiction because very few people can stand looking at regular screens for the necessary length of time. But e-ink provides a solution to this. It eliminates eye strain.
How much potential do you think e-ink and e-book technologies have? Do you see e-books catching on with the public? And do they provide a reasonable business model?
DEP: Right, I also believe e-ink (I'd never heard that term before) is the future for longer work. You still lose the ease of accessibility and note-taking aspects of the folio (flipping back and forth still has an edge in the sense it is a easy act to perform), among other things, but most readers don't need or want that. E-books might have a future, they just don't really have a present. The cost of buying an e-reader and then buying the individual books is still much greater than buying two hundred used paperbacks, and there will always be the public library where books are free. It's a technology for the rich right now, for people who travel constantly and can't carry books around, maybe for teachers if textbooks are available. Something big has to change about the economics for the e-reader to really take hold among general readers.
CBT: In the past few years, articles and blog posts (for example, at LitKicks) have appeared criticizing the pricing of books. Are books too expensive? Has this been a factor in reducing the size of the book-buying audience over the last twenty or so years?
DEP: I do read Litkicks, and Levi is a really good guy who cares a lot, so his input is always welcome; I totally disagree with him about the price of books being unreasonably high though. The list price of books has risen far, far more slowly than other media, especially movies, so is more of a personal complaint than a viable explanation. I complain about it as well, but I complain about a lot the things I buy. If I went to the movies a lot, I'd complain about that, too. Books like the Harry Potter series have sold at least as well, if not better, than any album or dvd. They were priced more or less the same as any other book, and they sold a ton of hardcovers, so maybe the average cost of a book isn't so high if the book is worth owning.
Having worked in publishing for a while now, and at a small up-market publisher for the last two years (David R. Godine, Publisher), I think that an increase in price would actually have been more realistic until this depression, downturn, recession; whatever it's called. Small and mid-sized publishers make a pretty slim margin on the books they sell (never mind the returns). There are a lot of variables at play: cost of production, market for the title, length of the print-run, author royalty, design, shipping costs, illustrators, translators. It isn't arbitrary at all, and making books cheaper isn't something publishers can just will to make happen. It will have to be either a major production innovation or a restructuring of the economics of bookselling.
CBT: Staying with the same theme. Literary novels were once publishing in hardcover and then, several months later (and a spot on the best-seller lists willing), they were available as affordable pocket-sized paperbacks. However, in the 1980s this practice ceased and literary paperbacks started being published in North America as pricier trade paperbacks. Only genre fiction retained the pocket-book form. In retrospect, was this a prudent decision by publishers of literary fiction? Or should the literary pocket-book make a return?
DEP: I love the pocket format, because I always have books with me and it usually necessitates a backpack or briefcase. But those affordable pocket paperbacks fall apart: cheap acidic paper; poor binding; wide spines. They're difficult to read sometimes. There are hardly any thumb margins. They're not drastically cheaper to produce for their appropriate list price. Unless it's for one or two bucks in a used book cellar, I'd rather toss in the extra fin for something that I can put on my shelf and keep there pretty much forever. If I don't feel like I need to own a book, I go to the library. It's the long dime over the short nickel, so to speak. Small format is great but it just isn't realistic for most books.
CBT: Agents now have enormous power, effectively controlling which writers get access to acquisition editors at major houses. Furthermore, agents find themselves under enormous pressure, acting as the line of first readers who have to sift through avalanches of submissions. Is this tenable over the long run? Is it good for art? Or should large houses be accepting both agented and unsolicited submissions?
DEP: Agents are a tough subject. They're case-by-case, I think. Some are probably great, others are out there just to make a buck I'm sure. Large houses are just as tough a subject, though. I think that it's the business model, more than the agents or the issue of submissions, that's the biggest problem here; I've been saying that for a long time.
Now, what is good for art?—you're just trying to get me to say something silly. Because nothing really intelligent can be said about what may or may not be good for art. As soon as you say "these conditions are best" or "this type of person is best", some world-changing writer comes along and proves you exactly wrong. What's good for art are good artists. If you say more than that, you're just filling column inches.
CBT: Literary prizes have also grown in power. They have arguably replaced the glowing review as a marketing tool. But are they as effective as criticism in building a contemporary canon? After all, critics can express nuance, prizes can't. Do book prizes give the message: this books is worth reading and all these others aren't?
DEP: Prizes are almost as good as reviews as a marketing tool—but then you have the Nobel secretary saying something like he did about American authors, and it really undermines the authority of a prize to a lot of readers. A positive review from a respected critic like James Wood, Adam Kirsch, or William Logan—because they take heat for what they write and are so independent-minded (bull-headed some might say)—is still just phenomenal.
On the other hand, time is the only thing that makes the canon. Critics can help, certainly, and there are examples of critics making a huge impact, but there are plenty of examples where the critics were totally wrong and a book's importance was only realized in retrospect. Prizes make a tidy list, sure, but they're just as hit-and-miss as critics. Occasionally you have a book that's so obviously important and capital-G Great that there's no question, but only persistence over time, and influence, make the canon. And authors aren't in the canon: titles are. Everything so-and-so wrote doesn't have to be great for one book or story or poem or essay to be among the best ever. In all our egotism, I think we've lost sight of that fact.
There are other issues, like royalty rates for anthologies and textbooks, which have a much greater effect on the "modern canon" than the Man Booker or the National Book Awards are having. Millions of students all over the country are taught certain books and poems — for a good author, that's worth more than any award.
CBT: Thinking of your own site, what sorts of changes do you foresee in it? Are blogs destined to become the new magazines? Will you start using a format (and possibly working with partners) in a magazine-type way? Or is blogging as it's currently defined how you want to keep posting work on the Net?
DEP: My blog, The Wooden Spoon, is a way to filter some of the things that I find online and to work out some of my thoughts on books, authors, and literary/cultural issues. I post some reviews there, and I'd like to do that more, but it's really there to open a discussion. I love comments. Even when they're adamant about how completely wrong and foolish I am, as long as they're cogent and pertinent, I love them. Because it's as close to the coffeehouses that we get, or I get, at least; I'm not wealthy enough to just sit around and be fabulous and literary all day in Athans (our local coffee place) and I don't work in academia. Those comment discussions are sustaining.
I'm founding a literary review site that is separate from my blog, The Critical Flame (www.criticalflame.org), that will be as serious as any print journal. We'll have reviews and criticism that, at least, will make up for the loss of so many book review sections in print media. I have a few editors who will be working on it with me, all bright young people, and we're taking review and critical essay submissions now for this first few issues. There is no essential difference between print and the internet except the seriousness with which we approach these projects. The next Partisan Review or Paris Review will be online only. It might be already.
Bio: Daniel E. Pritchard is a poet, essayist, and publishing professional from Boston, Massachusetts. He works at David R. Godine, Publisher, during the day, has a regular blog of literature and culture, The Wooden Spoon, and in the spring of 2009 Daniel is launching an online journal of book reviews and criticism, The Critical Flame.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Loveography 1: Inside Haemi Fortress
EXT. A SMALL KOREAN VILLAGE. AN EARLY SUMMER EVENING, MID-WEEK.
A WESTERN MAN is walking down the city's main street. To his left is Haemi Fortress, a medieval Korean fort. Its wall is built of unevenly-matched stones, each lightened by age to a gentle ochre, as if the stone itself has softened.
The MAN walking beside this wall has a peaceful expression on his face. But from his body language we can tell he's lonely.
VO: Those were the days before I met you.
SFX: A light breeze.
EXT. THE INNER COURTYARD OF THE FORTRESS. MOMENTS LATER.
The Western man sees a group of CHILDREN. They are giggling and playing with each other. Then one of them spots the man.
CHILD: 의국인! [Foreigner]
SECOND CHILD: [sing-songy] Hello!
MAN: [smiling] Hello.
ALL CHILDREN: [gleefully] Hello! Hello!
MAN: [speaking slowly] Can you speak English?
The CHILDREN suddenly start to giggle uproariously. But their amusement is more a symptom of shyness than a desire to carry the game any further. They run away, still laughing.
The MAN continues walking. He makes his way through small, sad, empty streets.
V.O.: Chris Marker once asked how we can remember thirst. What I want to know is, how can we remember loneliness? It penetrates not just oneself but the world. Reality itself appears changed. The side-streets suck themselves empty, their noise vacuumed behind shuttered store-fronts. The sky pulls itself as taut as a blue drum. The clouds starve themselves and harm themselves, like self-loathing anorexics.
And as the world seems to change, so does the self: feel lonely enough, and that juncture of soul and body that comprises what you think of as you becomes as parched as cracked soil. The lonely individual is ancient, he is dirt.
INT. AN EVANGELICAL CHURCH. TEN MINUTES LATER.
The MAN enters. He is somewhat surprised to see a CROWD OF WORSHIPPERS. They are very involved in their prayers.
The MAN walks cautiously forward.
A MIDDLE-AGED KOREAN MAN spots him.
CUT TO: CLOSE UP of MIDDLE-AGED KOREAN MAN.
MIDDLE-AGED KOREAN MAN: 하느님! 하느님이 자를 사랑하습니다! [God! God loves you!]
The MAN pulls back, alarmed.
EXT. A STREET. MOMENTS LATER.
The MAN is walking by himself again. He looks even sadder than before. A DIFFERENT CHILD spots him.
DIFFERENT CHILD: [especially enthusiastically] Hello!
V.O.: I don't know what it is was about that kid's voice. It went to my heart -- pierced it, like an exquisitely fine spear, the sharp end of sweetness. And it was this strange combination of sensations -- the needle's prick and the blood's sunny melt -- that suddenly transported me (there's no other phrase) to a different time. It was a time in the more recent past, when I still felt the residual parch of loneliness. But it was a time when I started to feel.
I mean, it was a time when I started to feel again.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Edward Champion -- critic, writer (Reluctant Habits)
CBT: When I started this interview series it was already clear that publishing -- especially of literary fiction -- was in dire straits. At that time, one explanation that was fashionable was 9/11 was the reason people weren't reading as much literature (or as much anything) as they used to. Now we are living in a time when the long-term repercussions of 9/11 are still with us. But using 9/11 as a primary explanation for what ails literary publishing simply doesn't work. For one thing, we are now in the midst of a particularly serious recession, and for another, it is clear the general decline in reading is a widespread -- and possibly unstoppable -- phenomenon that has roots which go back decades.
What is your take on the current depressed state of literary publishing? Is it a passing phase? Or is it an intractable problem -- in other words, it is the new normal? And if the latter, what can be done to counteract it?
EC: First off, I don't believe that 9/11 is the definitive triggering point that explains where literary fiction and the publishing industry is currently heading, any more than World War II entirely explicates the mergers and consolidations within the publishing industry during the 1950s. The issues pertain more to technological developments and distribution. While there are undeniable economic shock waves which reverberate from historical events and failed economic policies, significant incidents do not stop writers from turning out novels and there remain plenty of passionate people within the industry who don't perceive the book world as if it's a sausage factory. The publishing industry has taken some terrible hits, slashed jobs, and ushered in some crazed consolidation in Q4 2008, but we haven't yet seen the majors close up shop. And we won't see them close up shop until they face serious distribution threats which prevent them from acquiring the vital revenue that keeps them in business.
I do have concerns about what current business developments will mean for emerging debut novelists and whether we will see a book landscape which offers room for quirky or dangerous books. But it's also worth observing that genre novels continued to sell quite well in 2008. (Before Bookscan sent a takedown notice to Paula Guran, Guran published some interesting Bookscan numbers on her blog revealing that genre book sales were up.)
The central issue to be concerned about right now is distribution. AMS's collapse in early 2007 obliterated a number of independent publishers, and revealed just how much publishers rely on distribution to survive.
Now let's take a look at bookstores. Barnes & Noble and (in particular) Borders are both in trouble. The two chains are seeing reduced profits and are closing stores. It's possible that the independent bookstore will survive, particularly if the stores consider community and what consumers want into account. But here's the rub. Amazon continues to maintain such a hold on distribution and price point that even Powell's, which was wise enough to keep up a thriving online business, has recently asked its staff to voluntarily cut their hours. With the Kindle, Amazon has been subsidizing publishers to get them on board (and keep titles at $9.99 a pop) and this, combined with Amazon's lower prices and shipping, has caused the bookstore, in all forms, to face a significant threat right now. If the profit margins are seriously reduced for publishers because of these distribution developments, then this will almost certainly translate into authors receiving a smaller piece of the pie. If, on the other hand, the price point issue forces publishers to be honest about where the money is allocated, well this could entail many positive discussions about the current role of the book in culture. But all of this could spell serious trouble for the publishing industry.
Nevertheless, I maintain some optimism. Nature abhors a vacuum. And if we see nearly every bookstore close, there may finally be a very public debate about how Amazon has changed the publishing industry, and where the industry currently rests.
I am not sure what study you're citing regarding the decline in reading (the NEA Reading at Risk study perhaps?), but books are far from dead. People still want to read their newspapers, books, and magazines. It's a question now of HOW they read, whether it be reading material they purchase at a bookstore or a newsstand, or books purchased through Kindles, Sony eReaders, or, iPhones. (To resist all these developments is suicide. But you'd be surprised by how many dogged people in publishing fail to see the present.) Nevertheless, despite all the hype and the successful sales, and my grave concerns that Amazon is possibly violating some antitrust provisions by selling and distributing the hardware and the software at these price points, I'm not entirely convinced that the Kindle will instantly demolish printed books as we now know them, although the Kindle does represent the greatest success thus far for the e-book. But it's worth pointing out that the printed book is a form that has somehow survived the rise of radio, cinema, and television. The book may not have the prominence it had at the beginning of the 20th century, but so long as we have more J.K. Rowlings and Stephenie Meyers to get young readers excited about books, I believe that both printed books and e-books will continue to flourish in some sense.
Certainly none of these realities have stopped writers from writing. Looking at the literary fiction front in 2009, we see new books from Richard Powers, Nicholson Baker, Thomas Pynchon, William T. Vollmann, Colson Whitehead, China Mieville, and numerous others Whether these books will sell, of course, is another matter. But the way to counteract the possibly decreasing attention now paid to literary fiction is through word-of-mouth. I'm extremely dismayed by attitudes held by some media types that the regular reader is incapable of grasping or getting excited about literary fiction (or even independent films; the disease has spread to other mediums). Did not last year's Bolanomania put a dent into that? Are there not still book clubs around the country devoted to discussing books? And what of the Oprah Book Club? There needs to be more book coverage in the media outlets that remain. Smart, entertaining, and inviting book coverage. Not the dull, bland, and condescending nonsense championed by Sam Tanenhaus at the New York Times Book Review. We need to see more authors on television. We need to see authors going to cities around the nation and engaging directly with the reader. And we need to embrace community. The Internet seems to be doing much of this already, but it still represents a mere sliver of the possibilities applied to all forms of media.
CBT: How much potential do you think the Internet has as a vehicle of publishing? It's clear that there is a place for online criticism; the lit-blogosphere is dominated by it. The blogger Dan Green has even coined a phrase for this form of critical writing: the crit-blogosphere. But the crit-blogosphere's logical partner -- the fic-blogosphere -- is marginalized. Not many people read short stories or novels online.
Will the Internet really become the medium in which serious people both publish and read fiction? Or is this a technological pipe-dream, and is it more a question of using the Internet as an effective means to sell and distribute printed books?
EC: I don't think the Internet faces any shortage of opinions. What is especially interesting is that the so-called "crit-blogs" that have arisen (a label, incidentally, that I reject, because a vehicle that is nothing more than long-form criticism is needlessly limited in my view; you wouldn't know it from reading my longass answers to your questions, but some opinions can be expressed succinctly, as the rise of Twitter has shown) and litblogs that have cropped up have emerged with a strange authority. The blogger's views and sensibilities are on full display, with thoughts and facts openly challenged by other readers. The blogger, if she is any good, gets better at honing and expressing her thoughts. And all this creates a fun and wonderful alternative to some of the stale nonsense that now passes for thought in mainstream media.
Fiction blogs represent a problem: one that pertains to the medium. Blogging is predicated on facts, links, and comments. And you can't very well challenge an author who has composed a fiction piece and come off as anything less than an asshole. Further, when one considers the relentless tales of Kirk ass-raping Spock, Willow getting it on with Anna Torv, and the remarkably illiterate nonsense that most, but certainly not all, fan fiction entails, then anyone with taste or sensibilities views a fiction blog with natural suspicion. I think online fiction has more of a chance with podcasts. We've seen this with such podcasts as Escape Pod, which has built up a well-deserved following presenting audio versions of great science fiction stories. And I believe that Escape Pod has been such a success because fiction demands considerable attention. One takes its authority seriously, because the MP3 player that pops up is entirely separate from your browsing experience. Therefore, you're more or less experiencing the story in that sequestered way that comes with picking up a book. I'd say that if you were a fiction writer content to use the Internet as a primary means of distribution for your work, you should consider radio. Because the shortage of good radio drama (hell, nearly ANY radio drama) in America is truly appalling. And that means presenting work that WORKS for radio. Not just a dry read, but something that presents us with the natural contemporary evolution (not mimesis, mind you) of such wonderful old shows as "Dimension X," Arch Oboler, "The Mysterious Traveler," "Suspense," and numerous others. I truly believe that if there were more places like Escape Pod out there, we could very well see a second golden age of radio through podcasts. And it would likewise be a great boon to short fiction (and could, in turn, move a few printed books).
CBT: It is arguable the Internet isn't effective as a medium for publishing long works of fiction because very few people can stand looking at regular screens for the necessary length of time. But e-ink provides a solution to this. It eliminates eye strain.
How much potential do you think e-ink and e-book technologies have? Do you see e-books catching on with the public? And do they provide a reasonable business model?
EC: I think I've addressed some of this in my observations about the Kindle in my first answer. I believe e-ink is certainly an improvement for the e-book. The format (and such distribution outlets as Fictionwise) presents great possibilities for newspapers and magazines that are now limping by. Aside from these practical publishing issues, you've probably seen some of e-ink's other contributions without even knowing it: there are billboards, magazine covers (such as that blinking Esquire cover celebrating its 75th anniversary), bus station signs, and the like that are using it. The flashing advertisements (which resemble e-ink) that bombard the poor people in Spielberg's film, MINORITY REPORT, will probably be here sooner than 2054. If these developments aid the publishing industry and make our reading experience easier and more pleasant, then I think that's fantastic. I'm certainly no Luddite, but, at the present time, I find it infinitely more practical to read a book that I don't have to recharge. And I can't see myself parting with my books. There are a number of qualities to printed books -- being able to arrange them, being able to sift through them, being able to mark and bookmark them -- that I can't see e-ink entirely replacing. There is something about the permanence of text that I would hate to see go away. But truthfully, on the e-ink/e-book question, I'm more concerned about the long-term effects of Amazon's efforts to monopolize the e-book industry through subsidies.
CBT: In the past few years, articles and blog posts (for example, at LitKicks) have appeared criticizing the pricing of books. Are books too expensive? Has this been a factor in reducing the size of the book-buying audience over the last twenty or so years?
EC: Certainly the rise of warehouse discount stores in the 1980s and Amazon's efforts to make books all about price have made this more of a visible issue. Are books too expensive? It depends upon what books that you're buying. Independent bookstores such as Cody's became an intellectual center in the 1960s and the 1970s because there was a mass market explosion. You could essentially walk in with very little money and walk out with a solid library to keep you busy for some time. If we must price reading by hour, it's actually better than a movie or a concert. A $25 hardcover for five hours of reading? That's about $5/hour. Certainly better than the $6/hour you'll pay for two hours at a movie, or the $20 you'll pay for a 74 minute CD. Or the $15/hour you'll pay for a two and a half hour concert at a midsized venue. And speaking gruffly, you'll have to pry my hardcovers from my cold, dead hands, thank you very much.
Nevertheless, with Levi's entreaties for more paperback originals and fairer book pricing, I think he was right to point out that publishers are cutting out younger readers and a certain economic sector. There's a good book on this subject that Kenneth Davis wrote years before his success with the DON'T KNOW MUCH ABOUT series (and indeed presages some lessons for his own success) called TWO-BIT CULTURE: THE PAPERBACKING OF AMERICA that takes these issues into account. My great concern about pricing is that the conversation is too much about the ruthless free market, rather than the ethical consequences of always buying from Amazon (the independent bookstore goes out of business, et al.). Then again, America got quite used to buying cheap clothing and not paying attention to the sweatshops and the export processing zones which sustain that industry. So I'm sure that America wil have no problems looking the other way in relation to books while the rest of us worry.
CBT: Staying with the same theme. Literary novels were once publishing in hardcover and then, several months later (and a spot on the best-seller lists willing), they were available as affordable pocket-sized paperbacks. However, in the 1980s this practice ceased and literary paperbacks started being published in North America as pricier trade paperbacks. Only genre fiction retained the pocket-book form. In retrospect, was this a prudent decision by publishers of literary fiction? Or should the literary pocket-book make a return?
EC: I'd like to see the pocket book format for literary fiction return. As a scrappy young man, this was an invaluable and affordable way for me to get acquainted with numerous authors. It can be exceptionally prudent for a publisher to keep mass-market editions out there if the publisher wants to think about hardcover sales for the latest volume. Consider Neal Stephenson's ANATHEM. It debuted at #1 on the New York Times Bestseller list, which is rather extraordinary for a 900 page novel with an invented language that deals largely with mathematics and philosophy. I think one of the reasons this happened was because the publishers were wise enough to split up THE BAROQUE CYCLE into eight mass-market paperbacks and thereby keep it in print. I also believe that FSG was smart to issue Roberto Bolano's 2666 in both hardcover and a three-volume paperback set. That was also one of the reasons Bolano sold as well as he did. Perhaps if publishers kept mass-market print runs smaller and could find a way to justify doing this for the midlisters, we might see an increase in demand. This might likewise be a way for prolific literary authors who aren't quite hitting to get unexpected outreach. Keep an author in print in mass-market and this may very well persuade readers to come around and purchase the latest $25 hardcover. (Consider the $35 price point for Harry Potter.)
CBT: Agents now have enormous power, effectively controlling which writers get access to acquisition editors at major houses. Furthermore, agents find themselves under enormous pressure, acting as the line of first readers who have to sift through avalanches of submissions. Is this tenable over the long run? Is it good for art? Or should large houses be accepting both agented and unsolicited submissions?
EC: Well, let's also keep in mind that agents are also quite helpful for the writer. There remain enough a good deal of writers out there who have no real business sense, can't mind the store, and willfully sign everything away. Yes, I think agents are tenable, because an agent has a vested interest in staying alive. (Keep in mind that the two-year cycle in which an author gets paid for a book also applies to the agent.) Just as the publishing industry has places for the commercial and the literary, there are literary-minded agents and then there are the well-oiled Andrew Wylies. If the writer really wants to produce art, then he'll find a way to do it. And if we get rid of the agent, then we get rid of someone who is, by and large, looking after the writer's financial interest. Some quality control is necessary in order to keep wretched manuscripts from being sold or considered, and I don't believe this criteria, much less the financial health of writers, would be aided by a house suddenly considering a torrent of unsolicited submissions.
CBT: Literary prizes have also grown in power. They have arguably replaced the glowing review as a marketing tool. But are they as effective as criticism in building a contemporary canon? After all, critics can express nuance, prizes can't. Do book prizes give the message: this books is worth reading and all these others aren't?
EC: You're right. Book prizes (and prizes in general) are mostly useless in relation to a greater consideration of a book. And one thing that's overlooked in all this backslapping is that prizes are almost never about the more interesting quality of conversation. I certainly don't go about my business expecting to win a prize. I don't see book prizes having much of an impact on book discussion, but they certainly have an impact on sales. And by this standard, you may as well have authors mud wrestling on television or perhaps competing on FEAR FACTOR. Obviously, pointing to good books is helpful. The question is whether any of this gets anyone, other than the publishers who bankroll these events, excited about books. I do think a lot of great books, particularly genre titles, get overlooked by the snobs, who are usually the type to point how important great talents like Thomas M. Disch and Donald E. Westlake were to them just after their deaths. Well, where the hell were they before Disch blew his brains? And, boy, you certainly were a Richard Stark champion just when you realized that loving him and Westlake was the hip thing to do. I think we have an obligation to find and celebrate the misunderstood talents who are now tilting at windmills, offering them some appreciation when they are still alive. (To this end,I have been organizing an online symposium to one such writer in March.)
CBT: Thinking of your own site, what sorts of changes do you foresee in it? Are blogs destined to become the new magazines? Will you start using a format (and possibly working with partners) in a magazine-type way? Or is blogging as it's currently defined how you want to keep posting work on the Net?
EC: It may be the long-form conversations or the newspaper work, but I've found myself more interested in long-form content. The website is hardly profitable, but it is a good deal of fun for me, a great way to get the community fired up, and certainly a place where I can write at length about ideas and authors whom the editors I work with sometimes resist. I am now branching out into a few other cultural areas, and I'm trying to make the website not entirely books-centric. This is an effort on my part to prevent burnout and to ensure that everything I write (or that others write) remains fiery and passionate. Just about the last thing I want is to turn into some condescending bourgeois hack like Laura Miller, Lee Siegel, or John Freeman. I look to folks like the late John Leonard, James Wood, Scott McLemee, Ed Park, Liesl Schillinger, John Updike, and Tom LeClair (to name only a few), all of whom understand that remaining open-minded, passionate, playful, and sometimes a bit idiosyncratic about books (yes, even Wood and Updike) is part of the deal. I am certainly very lucky to be here, and don't feel entitled to anything. Nevertheless, if I can make all this profitable in any way and do what I do with a sense of joie de vivre, then I hope that I can help others. Perhaps blogs or more outlets like The Quarterly Conversation will be the first place for books as the newspaper books sections dwindle, although let's not kid ourselves: editorial oversight is invaluable. The daily question I ask myself is whether I can extract enough dimes from under the couch to pay the rent.
Bio: Edward Champion is the managing editor of Reluctant Habits. From 2003 to 2007, he wrote the literary blog Return of the Reluctant. In 2008, this was absorbed into the long-form written format of Filthy Habits, before being transformed into the short-form/long-form site Reluctant Habits. His work has appeared in The Chronicle of Higher Education, The Los Angeles Times, The Chicago Sun-Times, New York Magazine, Time Out New York, The Philly Inquirer, Newsday, and elsewhere. He is a member of the National Book Critics Circle, a podcaster, a playwright and director (Wrestling an Alligator, the San Francisco Fringe Festival) and a fiction writer (novel in progress, working title: Humanity Unlimited).