Auster, CanLit, and the search for vitality

  Korean-American literary writer R. W. Kwon recently wrote an interesting take down of essays in which all the principals always act reasonably and decently. It’s a good point because it’s not how human always act, even when they pride themselves on their maturity. Canadian critic Steven Beattie seconded Kwon, adding that there’s a certain of reader that wants boring novels — that is, novels without conflict.

Boringness in essays (Kwon’s complaint) or boringness in novels (Steven’s) is nothing new. As coincidence — chance, let us say — a literary novelist criticized for having just this failing recently died. His name was Paul Auster. 

I recall once having a conversation with my brother Richard about Auster’s work. Richard said, « It’s just one plodding sentence after another. You wonder when it’s going to stop. » 

Auster himself has many defenders — they tend to be rather thin skinned about critiques aimed at Auster; indirect evidence that the core of his support is middle brow — that is, readers who want their novels to be boring yet at the same time classified as art; a genre of cultural production I term “midrature”. And Canadian letters, FWIW, also provides many examples of this. 

So … what is to be done? How can we create a literary culture that, to use Philip Roth’s phrase, combines high seriousness with great playfulness?

Part of the answer is to stop looking at traditional methods of literary production to save lit culture from its drearier pretensions. In order words, do not make  the (middlebrow) mistake of assuming literature exists only or above all in the form of an offset printed book that’s been curated by a Selector Class which mystifies its own self-interests. Look instead to new media and certain forms of underground publishing. 

John Metcalf called for just that. But he didn’t quite seem willing to take the argument to its logical conclusion, which was to celebrate interesting writing wherever it was produced, whether it had the stamp of institutional approval or not. 

This is one reason I started publishing my late brother’s work as videopoems. 

Example here: A Moviepoem about Winter: Richard’s Last Universe

youtu.be/wqroSWmtJyw

Or as straightforward spoken word: Richard's writing - April 19/20 - 1

youtu.be/qssW5v-GRYw

Critics in anglo Canada are particularly susceptible to walling themselves off from anything that’s not “proper”. 

It’s a blind spot in the way Canada produces culture, and its publishing industry has, ironically, paid a huge price; its audience share is described by one insider as “the worst in the literate world”. 

This is a sad consequence of a middle power such as Canada not placing enough energy into creating genuinely democratic and vital cultural scene. Instead, we’re weighed down by institutions that are instinctively inclined toward “literature” that’s actually social work or a watered down imitation of interesting literature. 

My guess is there will be an interesting debate on the worth of Auster’s novels; American letters is big enough that it can endure such a debate without people freaking out and becoming vindictive.

The opposite is sadly true in Canada. The result is a stymied literature, a mystified literature, a moralizing literature, a message-carrying literature, a cautious literature, and, yes, a boring literature.