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April 20, 2005

Litblog Co-Op

Thread These days I'm trying to get into a particular kind of writing mindset. Which means wearing blinders for a while, which means I can't really scout around for interesting stuff to post about. I can you give you my quick take on matters of public record: The pope? Please, enough already. White smoke, purple smoke, I really do not care. Tom DeLay? Give him the steel-toed boot, pronto. Bush? Ditto.

So I was all set to try launching an open thread to see what happens, when I ran across the Litblog Co-Op. Which made my working-class hackles (my father was a cook, and my mother a waitress, so I claim this still as my heritage) stand on end, immediately.

The Litblog Co-Op is a group of so called literati weblog writers who have got together with this purpose (from the blog itself):

Uniting the leading literary weblogs for the purpose of drawing attention to the best of contemporary fiction, authors and presses that are struggling to be noticed in a flooded marketplace.
My reactions to this are strong and immediate and not at all positive. In fact, some of my reaction is very personal. I find myself channeling Woody Allen: I'm not interested in any club that would have me as a member. But is the corollary to this that I am automatically interested in a club that would NOT have me as a member? Or am I just pissed off at the excusionary nature of such a venture and, in a word, insulted? For myself, or my novels, or both?

I spent a good portion of my adult life in the university system, both Ivy League (my PhD is from Princeton) and Big Ten, in other words: where intellectual snobbery was born and where it flourishes. I didn't like it then. I disliked it so much that when I went into the tenure review process at the University of Michigan in my sixth year, I was ready, even eager, to be rejected. Willing to jump out of the plane before I got pushed, if you can see that. I had a lot of well received publications and two full books, in addition to a published novel (a novel that went on to win the PEN/Hemingway award), I had great teaching credentials, but at that time, the turndown rate in the humanities at the UM was about 80 percent. I just assumed they'd give me my walking papers. I had seen a lot of other good people get them.

But I got tenure, and while I was surprised and gratified, I was never really comfortable about the whole thing. The very exclusive club opened its doors to me against all expectations, but once I was inside it never did feel right. I left four years later, shocking everybody. The dean said to me (I remember this conversation word for word) What are you thinking? You are throwing away a promising career. Because nobody gives up tenure at the University of Michigan, you see. That was the general opinion. This mirrors almost perfectly my experience after Into the Wilderness was published, when certain people asked me when I was going to go back to writing novels like Homestead. The idea being that Homestead was a real, serious novel, and Into the Wilderness was not. I was capable of real stuff, just as i was worthy of tenure at a prestigious university, and yet I had turned my back on both these good things.

But I don't think I did turn my back on anything at all, or at least not on anything worth having at such a high cost. I can tell stories from many different angles and directions, and I'm just happier standing over here on the periphery where I don't have to go along with the party line. At least, I'm usually happier.

So I admit that my feelings about the Litblog Co-Op are complex. I have experience on both sides of that literati divide: as one of the inner circle, and in the last few years, as a persona non-grata. Somebody who gladly walked away, of her own free will, and now must live with the consequences, Which is usually not a trial, at all. I have a great life; I make a very good living from writing fiction; I have a wide and appreciative readership. And still, all this gets under my skin now and then.

The literati talk about the "best in contemporary fiction" but their definitions are usually so narrow and, often, self-serving, that I find them really objectionable. I had a debate with one of that crowd some time ago about his use of the term serious fiction in the comments to this post. That conversation ended with this last comment from me, which was never answered:

My point is, the distinction between "a yarn, a page-turner, a good time" and "serious literature" is an artifical one that has more to do with dogma than a real examination of what makes fiction work. I would call most of Austen and Dickens page-turners, and certainly I have a good time when I'm reading them. They are also thematically rich, highly plotted and full of interesting characters. The no-pain-no-gain approach to reading strikes me as perverse, and truly unnecessary.
Shortly after that exchange I gave up reading the self-proclaimed elite literati weblogs. Mostly I found them to be too pretentious to be useful or interesting, with the exception of Ed's Rants, because inspite of myself, I find I'm interested in his tasty brownie escapades. And now that I've vented, I'm hoping I can go back to ignoring the Litblog Co-Op.

After all, I make a pretty mean brownie, myself.

April 20, 2005 04:10 PM

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Comments

First, yeah, I know what you mean. While I'm first-generation middle-class on my father's side, and second on my mother's side (all hail the Southern working class), I'm still not entirely comfortable with some of the intellectual literati. One reason I'm glad I came to my senses and decided not to get that PhD.

And second, it's not a Woody Allen quote, it's Groucho Marx. In fact, although the quote is often meant as a sharply funny remark, he actually said it of an actor's quasi-fraternity that had formed in Hollywood during the thirties. They had a standing policy of not allowing Jews, but graciously informed him they were willing to make an exception just for him. (I've also read in some places that this did not, however, include his wife also being welcome at events.)

So in that light, the phrase, "I would never join a club that would have me as a member" carries a note of sadness. But then, he always was someone who could be sharp, funny, and then you realized what else he was saying, underneath it all.

Come to think of it, that would fit. "Normally we only like blue bloods, but we'd make an exception for you." Gee, don't do me any favors. (America? Classist? Uh...)

Posted by: sGreer at April 20, 2005 04:36 PM

Though I'm sad that you left Ann Arbor, I loved reading how you stood up to academic snobbery! I wasn't able to stick it out long enough to actually get the PhD, but received similar expressions of shock when I left Northwestern's Theater PhD program (after having finished all my course-work and "proved" my critical-theory chops). In my case, leaving was a way of protecting my disertation subject--dancer and actress Valeska Gert--from being forced into something (someone) I wouldn't recognise. I also found that I didn't have the stomach for the politics--Who said something to the effect that the less that is at stake the nastier people get about it? We were talking about theater (and often just theories about theater, not even actual performances) and the crap people pulled rivaled the nastiest politics I've ever witnessed (yes, the current Republican party included.) Sigh.

Posted by: Kathryn Remen-Wait at April 21, 2005 05:53 AM

Definitely appreciative readership...you did the best thing for you...you have some serious eggs (that's what my feminist friends say instead of serious balls!) It's awesome!

Posted by: Christy at April 21, 2005 11:08 AM

whew Sara.....glad you got that off of your chest. Question....if you don't like literary sobbery.....did I remember you NOT liking that book...A reader's Manifesto?.....I loved that book....because I am just an amateur...BA in Art History....never went on in the academic world....I thought it was a pretty good ruler at picking out books that may be groping at pretention too much...correct me if I am wrong....
I remember and still love to read art criticism. Sometimes barely intelligible. Heavy and thick. Like reading literary criticism by Christopher Hitchens. I have to read and reread him. Same kinda snobbism. Hemingway hated that.

Cynthia in Florida

Posted by: Cynthia at April 21, 2005 02:29 PM

I find that with any blog, when the writer turns personal for even a second, it's a "page-turner." Guess the new phrase for that is "a scroller?" No. What *is* a web version of page-turner?
Anyway - I loved the university environment. But in the discipline I chose, I didn't fit in. Something about wealth and surnames, parental choices and style (moxy?). It's interesting to me that each discipline has its own version of snobbery. It wasn't like the literary version you describe, but it was similar enough. I wish I had completed my Master's thesis, but I just couldn't continue with something that appeared so frivolous when my student debt reached epic proportions. So glad I got out, but I get wistful for the aura of that world sometimes. I think I miss the libraries the most.

Posted by: Pam at April 23, 2005 07:08 AM

Sara: Thank you very much for being candid about the LBC. I should point out that as someone who grew up working class himself and who despises coteries for the sake of maintaining exclusive coteries, I can definitely understand your perceptions about the LBC being some kind of closed club. But I don't think this was Mark's intention at all when he started it. The idea of the group is to promote literature and to encourage the conversation, not to exclude blogs. And individually, I really don't think the participating litblogs are elite-based at all.

I've forwarded this post onto the LBC. And perhaps they can address your genuine concerns better than I can. I'll only point out that, in the LBC's defense, the co-op is still very new. We're still ironing out the kinks and trying to address such concerns as conflicts of interest, inclusion of more blogs, and how to get the conversational nature of litblogs transplanted in the real world. That means including the opinions of people who aren't particularly enamored of a LBC title.

I do hope that the trial stage doesn't put you off. This is about strength in numbers. Which means using the democratic possibilities of the Internet to do what the major news outlets can't do with books. And I'm sure this will involve more blogs in the future.

Posted by: Ed at April 24, 2005 02:10 PM

I'm also a bit puzzled at the description of the LBC as elitist. I suppose any group with a finite number of members is, by definition, self-contained, but as Ed already pointed out, that's not the aim: it's simply to promote good books and see if a unified front actually makes a difference.

And the collected group as it stands is, to my mind, quite diverse in reading tastes and choices. Eventually I hope to see some quality crime fiction represented; science fiction & fantasy has already been talked about publicly on the LBC blog, and I know a couple of other participants read romance extensively. So while serious fiction may get the balance of discussion, they and other "less serious" (quotes used ironically) works have to have one major thing in common: they be good books otherwise overlooked.

Posted by: Sarah at April 24, 2005 02:25 PM

I think often the term serious fiction is used to mean worthwhile fiction, and I personally believe that comes in every genre out there. This is exactly the kind of discussion we need to keep the LBC honest and I really hope that blogs that aren't part of the LBC (yet) will continue to dicuss the project and the books that get recommended. That's the only way this will work.

Posted by: gwenda at April 24, 2005 02:34 PM

Ed, Sarah, gwenda -- it's very good of you to stop by and respond to my post. I find your individual responses encouraging in a variety of ways.

At this point, I don't think it would be constructive for me to compile evidence of what I see as a tendency toward elitism in the literati weblogs. Instead, I'm willing to step back and watch and hope for the best, specifically because I do see great potential in the democratic nature of the internet, as Ed points out. Certainly the overarching goal of supporting midlist books is important and worthwhile.

At some point in the not too distant future, I hope the LBC will engage in a public discussion of how to define 'serious' or 'worthwhile' fiction regardless of genre, because I'm with Gwenda on this one.

Posted by: sara/rosina at April 24, 2005 04:29 PM

Hi Sara -- I see others have weighed in on this topic, but feel I should respond to the idea of literary elitism. One very heartening thing for me, and something that encouraged me to participate in the co-op, was the fact that unabashed genre fiction readers and advocates are included (I'm one of the romance readers that Sarah referenced). It is my never humble opinion that there is as much bad in literary fiction as there is in genre fiction. The reverse also holds true.

Will the process be perfect and meet everyone's needs? I think we'd all (all being participants, critics, authors/publishers/agents) be surprised if that happened. A lot of thought went into the development of the co-op, but that doesn't mean it's a static entity. I think the best thing to come from this will be more apparent in six months to a year -- when publishers realize that they need to rethink their publicity efforts because the traditional means aren't reaching readers effectively.

I'm glad you talked about this because the more we think and consider the project, the better it will be.

Posted by: booksquare at April 24, 2005 05:15 PM

sara, a writer with chicano/"working class" roots who has been published primarily by university presses and often rejected by agents ("you write well, but short stories just don't make money unless you're a big name"), i have the opposite response to the co-op. i see the co-op as possessing as much of the "outsider" status that i do. i don't got no stinkin' mfa and though i've received some very nice reviews of my books, the new york times, washington post and other large newspapers don't know me from you know who (the l.a. times has reviewed one of my books--which i appreciate--but i am a native son, after all). in any event, i welcome the co-op and i hope that the reviewers introduce readers to quality books that might not have the backing of a cadre of publicists. though i understand and appreciate your skepticism, i say: let us stay tuned and see what happens.

Posted by: daniel olivas at May 2, 2005 12:14 PM

I don't think you're being entirely, 100%, fair, although you do have a point that many people are jerks about the distinction between "Serious Literary Fiction" and "Pulp." I, for example, am an incredible literary snob and would be surprised to see someone quit a tenured position at a prestigious school.

But I'm not in the LBC. Bookdwarf is, and believe me, she's got plenty of non-Serious reading on those shelves-- sci-fi, fantasy, thrillers, crime, the lot. My point being that even if something isn't Serious Literature she's still perfectly capable of appreciating it.

And even if they all were literary snobs, there are a lot of great books that get missed, and having several people get together and say "hey, check this one out" can turn people on to a new voice, and I think that's a positive thing, no matter what.

I mean, it's that or go back to reading the latest installment of the Da Vinci Diet Starring Amber Frey.

Posted by: verbal at May 2, 2005 12:50 PM

verbal -- I agree with you (and Daniel) that the reasonable thing to do is to give the LBC a chance and the benefit of (my considerable) doubt. Which I am going to do.

My basic problem with your approach is right there in your comment. Bookdwarf's reading choices are (by your definition) non Serious, non Literature, but, you tell us, she can still appreciate the Real Stuff. You don't see a problem with approaching things this way? Because I do.

Posted by: sara at May 2, 2005 03:06 PM

Hm. I think we're arguing over terminology here. I doubt that it's worth the work and inevitable offense handed out to all comers to really get a definition going of "serious literature."



From what I've seen of it, the LBC's goals are to pick out an overlooked gem-- not to insult the overlookers or the popular selections. And I appreciate your giving it the benefit of the doubt.



Also I never said that genre fiction wasn't literature-- just that it's less serious. The way I see the distinction, you've got your serious literature, your comedy, thriller, etc. etc. Obviously these all overlap: I've read some really deep, challenging sci-fi (LeGuin, Atwood...) and it's among the best writing out there, at least partly because it bites at all the edges of the genres that it occupies. Those distinctions don't necessarily imply a value judgement: they are descriptive.



Yet I admit that there is a value judgement in there, too. The distinctions that we make among various kinds of literature put it into the same hierarchy that puts sculpture in marble or bronze above sculpture in plaster or clay; that puts figure painting in oil over landscapes in watercolor.



I hardly know whether those value judgements are worth fighting about: they aren't objecitvely true, they don't have much to do with anything but how a book is marketed, and the vast majority of the world ignores them, or uses them as descriptives without regard to their value judgements, anyway.



So to return to your question: Is it a problem for someone to make value judgements about the quality of literature? For one person to make quality judgements about the things they read, no. For one person to make quality judgements that they expect others to follow? That becomes more problematic-- but it's also the principle by which people share book recommendations and in the process outline their feelings and their culture. So no, I don't see a problem with appreciating different kinds of literature on different levels-- just like I don't see a problem with distinguishing between a good burger and a good haute cuisine meal, or between a good popcorn movie with explosions and a good art-house movie.




Sorry to blather on like this-- I look forward to seeing how the LBC turns out and what you think of what it becomes.

Posted by: verbal at May 2, 2005 03:35 PM

Okay, so I think we can agree on a few points:

There's an implied value judgment in some of the labels and distinctions we're talking about.

It's futile to argue (if that's what we're doing) about matters as subjective as these. The best we could come up with would be a set of guidelines that you and I might agree on, but probably nobody else would. And who has got the time for something like that? You'd rather be reading. So would I.

What I would like (and I realize this will never happen) is this: somebody sets up a website like LBC, but leaves all labels behind. So it's not LBC, but maybe GBC (great book co-op) or VGBC (very good book co-op) or OBC (overlooked book co-op). Any given book that is brought up for consideration or recommendation is discussed on its merits: strength of the narrative, the characterization, the writing. Genre is not discussed. The word literary is never used.

Why is this not possible?


Posted by: sara at May 2, 2005 03:57 PM

What's so wrong with the word literature? No recommendation can be made without a value judgement, without sorting good from bad. Great Book Co-Op? What determines greatness? How about overlooked-ness? What criteria do you use to distinguish good-but-overlooked from bad-but-overexposed? What terms can you use to discuss them, without saying good, great, boring, transparent, obvious, exciting, page-turner, thoughtful, thought-provoking, intense, revolting, pretentious...

These criteria are, at best, shared by large numbers of other people and can serve as a filtering mechanism so that not everybody has to go out and read every book in order to decide which ones to read. At worst they are idiosyncratic, useless, misleading, or all three.

But the fact is, one must find trustworthy reviewers. I mean, I can't spend all my time reading, and when I can read I want to read things I like. Heck, I can barely find the time to read book reviews, which is why I rely on review roundups like bookdwarf.com does (OK, bookdwarf is the only litblog I read...) (OK, I'm in love with her, so I'm probably biased).

Here's my question for you: do you think that people do not regard your work as literature? When people talk about good books, do you feel that they're holding good books up in contrast to yours? Do you feel that your work is not good, or great, or noble?

I ask this because once I wanted to be a poet and now I work in marketing. The literature I produce is almost always under 500 words, ending in an exclamation point. I am pretty sure it is not great literature that will be remembered through the ages. And I am afraid of judgement from others-- and from myself-- that it's not good enough. So I want to know how another writer who is avowedly outside the high-art business feels about their work. (I think I know how you feel that other people feel about it, and that you are angry about their condescension).

Posted by: verbal at May 3, 2005 02:09 PM

Verbal -- I've answered this last comment of yours in the weblog proper.

Posted by: sara at May 3, 2005 03:23 PM

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