The Times Does it Again
Awoke this morning to read a totally insipid, narrow-minded, one-off article about how our current novelists either cannot or will not engage the contemporary political scene. This is, of course, authored not by an artist but an academic, an historian. It just seems bent on excoriating the novelists who do attack politics as well as those who don't, and sites Twain and Hawthorne as the examples up to which our contemporary writers must be held. This lacks for several reasons. For one, Twain was a public figure in his day, a statesman, an enfant terrible because people looked to writers for answers--today his role is (sadly) filled by Oliver Stone, Tim Robbins and Michael Moore at best, Sean Penn and Bono (or Anne Coulter and that O'Riley person) at worst. If Michael Chabon decided to take on the contemporary administration in a scathing parody, it would at best be bought by, say, the population of Brooklyn, read by a portion of them, understood by a portion of that--and who among them would change their opinions, likely of the same agenda, if they were to read even the clearest morality play into Chabon's no-doubt beautifully wrought satire.
What about Coetzee or Gorimer, who do write about contemporary politics in other regions? And if Nicholson Baker does address it, his fantasia of someone wanting to execute W (which I've not read but now will!) sounds as valid as anything. So why slam it, calling it "appalling," when he is actually in line with what you are looking for. Philip Roth was very clear that The Plot Against America, whatever one thinks of the book (or its title) was not about today but a speculative look at a certain era, his own Newark mien, had it been overtaken by Lindbergh who believed fiercely in Hitler and his project. So the esteemed author of this article judges Roth on what the book should have done and rates him accordingly, rather than taking the project for its obvious intentions. This truly is the New criticism: selfish, me-centered, and not allowing for other viewpoints except what one thinks other's ought to be. It really is narrow, but more its anti-intellectual and terribly sad.
And to excoriate Toni Morrison for writing about slavery--which is always charged, still has to be sorted out and can often serve as allegory--is not only stupid and short sighted, it is frankly racist. I am reminded of an article in the new "literature" magazine N+1 which said something to the effect that if you were to read the new novels by Jonathan Safron Foer, Philip Roth and Michael Chabon, the worst trouble we have in this world is anti-semitism. Has the subject of slavery or the holocaust been overdone in these brilliant minds? As if we have somehow gotten past this, in an era where racial divide is worse than 1968, where anti-semitism comes not just from the infidels but from the left.
In the midst of all this, what's a poor novelist to do? Should Philip Roth write an Our Gang about this decidedly un-funny group of murderers who've hijacked America? Would anyone--particularly the Red States--listen to him? Or Tom Wolfe (who is an avid fan of Bush)? Or John Irving? Or Stephen King? Or Tom Clancey? Damned if they do, damned if they don't--and yet again, the Times, always white-hot on matters cultural, once again offers a flaccid "what is a smart person like me to do in such a dumb, thoughtless world" whine in the place of real commentary.
You see, in this culture we simply have no public intellectuals, certainly not the sort to whom voters look to when faced with the complex matters of their ballots. I remember trying to explain who H.L. Mencken was to someone who did not know, and coming up short trying to find a contemporary counterpart. John Stewart? Al Franken? Umberto Eco? Whom?
What about Coetzee or Gorimer, who do write about contemporary politics in other regions? And if Nicholson Baker does address it, his fantasia of someone wanting to execute W (which I've not read but now will!) sounds as valid as anything. So why slam it, calling it "appalling," when he is actually in line with what you are looking for. Philip Roth was very clear that The Plot Against America, whatever one thinks of the book (or its title) was not about today but a speculative look at a certain era, his own Newark mien, had it been overtaken by Lindbergh who believed fiercely in Hitler and his project. So the esteemed author of this article judges Roth on what the book should have done and rates him accordingly, rather than taking the project for its obvious intentions. This truly is the New criticism: selfish, me-centered, and not allowing for other viewpoints except what one thinks other's ought to be. It really is narrow, but more its anti-intellectual and terribly sad.
And to excoriate Toni Morrison for writing about slavery--which is always charged, still has to be sorted out and can often serve as allegory--is not only stupid and short sighted, it is frankly racist. I am reminded of an article in the new "literature" magazine N+1 which said something to the effect that if you were to read the new novels by Jonathan Safron Foer, Philip Roth and Michael Chabon, the worst trouble we have in this world is anti-semitism. Has the subject of slavery or the holocaust been overdone in these brilliant minds? As if we have somehow gotten past this, in an era where racial divide is worse than 1968, where anti-semitism comes not just from the infidels but from the left.
In the midst of all this, what's a poor novelist to do? Should Philip Roth write an Our Gang about this decidedly un-funny group of murderers who've hijacked America? Would anyone--particularly the Red States--listen to him? Or Tom Wolfe (who is an avid fan of Bush)? Or John Irving? Or Stephen King? Or Tom Clancey? Damned if they do, damned if they don't--and yet again, the Times, always white-hot on matters cultural, once again offers a flaccid "what is a smart person like me to do in such a dumb, thoughtless world" whine in the place of real commentary.
You see, in this culture we simply have no public intellectuals, certainly not the sort to whom voters look to when faced with the complex matters of their ballots. I remember trying to explain who H.L. Mencken was to someone who did not know, and coming up short trying to find a contemporary counterpart. John Stewart? Al Franken? Umberto Eco? Whom?
posted by Daniel at 11:03 AM
5 Comments:
I agree they are there; I meant they lack any real high-impact cultural presence. Of course writers address politics--rather articulately, in some instances--but what this article seems to posit is the same sad-sack "why don't we get to play" and "everything was so much better when" rhetoric the Times of this age will end up being known for, culture wise. My problem with this article: it is not the fault of the culture but of the novelists. Sort of. I think. At least that's what he seems so say. Maybe.
You get me?
Gordimer, babe.
My take on the article was that we are lacking novelists who literally engage party politics. I imagine that is at least partially because we live in an age when each individual, especially one who is not living in Washington, has less feeling for political parties and their ideologies in general (other than hatred). Hawthorne and his ilk lived in a time when the idea of sufferage as a right, rather than a privilege, was new -- and therefore worthy of imaginative writing. I remember reading Rip Van Winkle, and being surprised that the announcement of a presidential election was such a big deal in the plot (Rip wakes up just as the votes are in for the latest presidential race). Most writers just don't feel as if their feet tread on the cobbles of political history as those older writers did, which is why Gore Vidal (quintessenitally politically connected) wrote about Lincoln. He'd been to the White House, known presidents and politicians, etc.
But writers are not political enough for another obvious reason; political fiction doesn't sell. The West Wing does, and movies about presidents, so maybe that's something.
Sorry to Quinn; I thought I had posted you. Damn technology, can never get my mind around it.
I agree with Eliz. Wilentz is primarily concerned with a once-prominent, now-moribund relationship between writers and political action.
Writing about slavery is not political action. Writing about class and race divides is not political action. Everything is not political in Wilentz's sense.
I should have said that Wilentz was mostly noting a difference, not lamenting it (very loudly). The essay's title is unfortunate (and possibly not the author's; it's obviously designed to surf on his big new book), but Wilentz is right insofar as few writers will be found at political conventions.
I would blame the politicians equally if blame were the point. Politics has become incredibly slick, with little room for the fuzzy spontaneity of writing. What writers once furnished is now provided by marketers and advertisers.
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