The Reading Experience

Who?

In the April 25 New York Times profile of novelist Steve Stern, we get this from Harold Bloom:

"I started to read Stern thinking I would just dip into it," Mr. Bloom said in a telephone interview from his home in New Haven. "But he has gusto, exuberance, panache; this is immensely readable and vibrant."

And then Mr. Bloom asked, "Who is he?"

I have great respect for Harold Bloom as a literary critic. If anything, his response to Steve Stern only reinforces my high opinion of his critical acumen. But that Bloom was unfamiliar with Stern's work not only indicates the degree to which Stern is unjustly neglected by the current literary scene, but also how little we should in general rely on English professors, "literary scholars" more broadly, for insight about contemporary literature. Bloom keeps up with current writers more thorougly than most academic critics--especially for a critic whose specialty is Romantic poetry--but that a writer as accomplished as Steve Stern remains unknown to him speaks volumes about the essential disconnection between literary academics (excluding creative writers) and the larger literary world populated by writers and readers of contemporary work.

In my opinion, a good case can be made that the operative definition of what constitutes "literature" in the first place should come from the practice of current writers. They--and their readers--have inherited the literary tradition studied by academics and are expanding and modifying that tradition through their ongoing work. Thus critics and scholars interested in understanding the literary impulse, the nature of literature and the possibilities of literary form, ought to be attending to contemporary writers.

But this is not what happens, of course. Through academic study the procession of writers and works that make up literary history are carved into periods and "specialties," and academic scholars, even those most up-to-date on reigning theories or critical approaches, usually spend their time becoming experts on these periods. I know from experience that many such scholars think of "their" writers as the most interesting or rewarding writers one might study, and tend to regard contemporary writers as so much fluff, a sad decline from the standards set in the Renaissance, or the 18th century, or even in the first half of the twentieth century. In this context it would not be surprising at all for most English professors to respond to the names of even more well-known writers than Steve Stern with Bloom's "Who is he/she?" (A notable exception in the blog world is Miriam Burstein (The Little Professor), who specializes in Victorian literature but who frequently posts very intelligent reviews of current fiction on her weblog.)

Over the past thirty years or so an academic specialty called, strangely enough, "Contemporary Literature" arose partly as a reaction to this attitude on the part of literary scholars. It was designed by those who helped establish it as an academic discipline to bring more attention to contemporary writing, to demonstrate that it, too, was worthy of serious academic attention. For a while this happened. Current writers were the subjects of numerous very good scholarly books in the 1970s and 1980s, and courses in contemporary literature came to be taught in most English departments. But even this "specialty" in contemporary literature has, in my opinion, turned out to be mostly unhelpful in creating real interest in current writing and in contributing to anything that could be called a "literary culture" in the United States. It, too, has been carved into various sub-specialties, has become atomized and fragmented. Scholars of postmodernism don't often have much to say to scholars specializing in feminist writers, who don't generally have much to say to those studying minority writers, and none of these academic critics usually speak much to the creative writers.

Thus the last person you should probably approach for an informed opinion of contemporary literature would be an English professor. The best you will probably get is someone like Bloom, who is willing to read current writing and take it seriously; at worst you will get outright disdain or condescension. (Which doesn't mean the professor will refrain from making a pronouncement on the writer or work in question.) Most literature professors don't think that much about what "literature" might be as a vital, continuing practice, only about what it was at some time in the past. The word has indeed meant different things to different people at different times. "Historicizing" is a perfectly nice thing to do, and sometimes it tells us interesting things about the poetry and fiction we still continue to read. For myself, I generally prefer to concentrate on what serious writing can do for us in the here and now, which requires keeping up a little bit on the new books and writers who can help us achieve this goal.

Gatekeeping

Scott Esposito has put up an intelligent post disagreeing with some of what I said in yesterday's post about self-publishing.

For now I'll concentrate on just this paragraph:

. . .for the sake of argument let's just say that all publishing was self-publishing. If publishers did not act as gatekeepers, determining the quality from the chaff, then who would? Consumers? Self-appointed critics? I honestly believe that if all the publishers were put out of work and we all went to straight self-publishing, you would see aggregations form. Some self-publishers would sell more than others, and they would group together and develop their own firms, or guilds, or whatever you want to call them. We'd be right back where we started, with gatekeepers that held the keys to respectability.

First of all, how important is it, really, to have cultural gatekeepers? When literary study was introduced into the university curriculum, this was supposedly one of the jobs English professors were to assume. They've certainly made a hash of it, to the point that they're no longer interested in the job themselves. Second, is it really plausible to say that book publishing in its current form is performing this role in any kind of acceptable way? "Determining the quality from the chaff"? As far as I can tell, mainstream publishing is in a headlong rush to spread as much chaff as it possibly can.

How about "readers" rather than "consumers"? As I said in the original post, the audience for literary fiction is small enough that I really can't see the need for gatekeeping among this group, although information and lively discussion of new books (on blogs, for example, whose proprietors are indeed pretty much "self-appointed critics") certainly does help such readers make informed decisions. Do we really think that the efforts made by the publishers themselves do much to help them?

I'm not so sure that "some self-publishers would sell more than others," but even if they did, how would this constitute a guild, since everyone would have equal access to them?

I may have something more to say about Scott's remarks on the role of editing in a future post. Short version: How satisfied are you with the editing being done currently by mainstream publishers? Do you think it's going to get better in the future?

In an e-mail to yours truly, Outer Life makes these comments about the current "publishing environment":

I'm wondering whether traditional publishing makes sense for anyone anymore. If Stephen King self-published, he'd still sell millions ofcopies, and probably make even more money. What does a traditional publisher do for Stephen King?

And an unknown writer of literary fiction needs lightning to strike three times in order to achieve any success in the traditional publishing world: first, get noticed by an agent, second, rise out of the slush pile and third, find an audience. Failing the first two steps would leave the writer's words forever unread, failing the third step would effectively result in the same oblivion. And even if lightning did strike three times, it's unlikely the writer would make enough from his book to quit his day job. So, in the end, what does traditional publishing really do for these writers, even for the lucky few who manage to make it through all three steps?

Going Indie

Sarah Glazer's essay, "How to Be Your Own Publisher," in the April 24 New York Times Book Review, seems to mark another step forward in the acceptance of self-publishing:

For the first time, print-on-demand companies are successfully positioning themselves as respectable alternatives to mainstream publishing and erasing the stigma of the old-fashioned vanity press. Some even make a case that they give authors an advantage -- from total control over the design, editing and publicity to a bigger share of the profits.

Although it is unfortunate that the essay focuses so much on the new "book" by Amy Fisher, that the NYTBR would devote so much space to the discussion of self-publishing suggests that there is enough potential in it that other book reviews might eventually pay attention to self-published books, if the form does indeed come to attract talented writers of real books.

What John Feldcamp, founder of Xlibris, says about the future of self-publishing is probably correct:

"Publishing has been an arcane specialist skill under the control of a guild of people that are unique and different from anyone else. . .Those skills have been so complicated they haven't been accessible to normal human beings. What's happening is all the technologies of publishing are becoming increasingly cheap and accessible". . . .

Not only has the technology of publishing been under the control of a "guild," but I would argue that the same thing is true of the editorial side of publishing. Who can honestly say that the decisions made by most mainstream publishers are being made according to some deep-seated love of good writing rather than the financial bottom line? That those in control of the publishing process have this control because they are uniquely qualifed to make judgments about the literary merit of what they publish? That their judgments are so obviously sound that we can be confident the books they choose are the best they could find and the books they decline are not worthy of publication?

Writers continue to seek publication through this process because of the lingering distinction that still glimmers faintly from some of the "name" publishing houses and because of the implicit flattery involved in having one's book chosen by people who are supposed to know what they're doing. But today's "book business" only offers most writers frustration on two fronts: Publishers who put most of their emphasis on big-name writers and blockbuster titles, and who while doing so still manage to lose money and fail to bring attention to the writers they do publish.

This essay by Akashic Books publisher Johnny Temple in my opinion only lends support to the notion that writers might be just as well off to publish themselves. Although publishers like Akashic are taking up some of the slack in publishing worthwhile books, Temple still calls on writers to themselves do more of the "promotional 'dirty work'" in getting their books noticed. "The ideal, of course, is to collaborate with an attentive and zealous publisher," he writes, "but the reality for most artists in any medium is that little is guaranteed beyond one's own efforts." If writers are increasingly being required to fend for themselves once their books are published, is it really such a big leap to doing everything oneself, including getting the book into print in the first place?

Temple comments further:

Once the pitfalls of today's publishing terrain are understood, writers can readjust their expectations. Start with a basic truth that is rarely presented in MFA programs and writers conferences: 5,000 copies sold is a fantastic number, particularly for a first-time author. This goes for books published by either indies or majors. (A quick probe of BookScan will show how few books pass this threshold.). . . .

The truth is, most literary fiction is going to appeal to a relatively small, self-selected audience. If writing well and cultivating one's art is what's most important to the serious writer, I don't see why this should be debilitating. Audiences for good work grow over time, but even if they don't, it doesn't seem so tragic for a writer to reach those readers most likely to appreciate what he/she is trying to do. Furthermore, if your book is going to sell only a few thousand copies even if it's published by a New York publisher, surely a self-published book effectively publicized by its author is going to have a chance of equalling this number, at least, especially if the author is able to take advantage of the increasing influence the literary blogosphere seems to be having. (Either by starting up a blog or by appealing to those maintaining existing blogs.) Other ways of marketing one's work on the internet are surely going to develop as well.

Glazer cites several examples of self-published books that have sold many more than 5,000 copies. Most of these are nonfiction books, to be sure, books that fit into what one quoted publisher calls "microniches." But since it is literary fiction that tends to be worst-served by the publishing business, I don't see what writers of such fiction have to lose by going the self-publishing route. If the book business continues to be operated as incompetently as it has been lately, they may eventually have no other choice. I think it's quite possible that some very talented or very brave writer will sometime relatively soon decide to self-publish and will be successful at it. Once it's been established that one can self-publish and still maintain one's dignity (and maybe sell some copies as well), other writers will follow. Being able to efficiently get one's book into the hands of interested readers ought to make up for any "prestige" lost through bypassing the conventional publishers, who are increasingly proving unworthy of the job of gatekeeping for both serious writers and readers.

(I would not want my remarks to suggest I don't respect the efforts being made by what Temple calls "indie publishing." I do. But I also think self-publishing could simply be another way of going "indie.")