Mean

Mean & Reviews

Standing Ovation For Maureen Tkacik’s “Gladwell for Dummies”

What, me huckster?

What, me huckster?

Tkacik’s indictment of Gladwell is incisive, epic, merciless, and right. It runs a full seven web pages and is worth reading every word. Now, the next time you see someone reading Blink and reflexively go to slap it out of their hand, you’ll be able to explain why you did it. Here’s a choice gleaning from fairly late in the piece. Click through to start at the beginning.

And so once again we find Gladwell muckraking in the trenches of banal cliché and thereby reinforcing said cliché–and, more insidiously, banality itself. In Outliers, as in Blink, he appears to assume that the unexamined life is the only sort his readers could be living, though lessons with titles like “Demographic Luck” and “The Importance of Being Jewish” suggest that he may have downgraded his expectation of who his readers are from the less savvy to the truly oblivious. Outliers contains a few new terms and morsels of trivia: the 10,000-Hour Rule describes the number of practice hours one must put in to attain true genius; we also learn that fourteen of the seventy-five individuals on Gladwell’s list of the “richest people in human history” were Americans born between 1831 and 1840. (Cleopatra is No. 21.) But for the most part, the book’s first section, “Opportunity,” contains nothing that will enlighten anyone who has given even a small fraction of 10,000 hours of thought to the word’s meaning.

Also, it’s worth looking at this piece in light of this website’s ongoing discussion of what good criticism can or should look like.  The piece is occasioned by the publication of Gladwell’s new book, Outliers, but it could hardly be considered a mere “review” of that book. And yet, it’s not a NY/LRB-style essay, where the book(s) provide a sort of anchor for a larger discussion about something else. Tkacik seems completely at ease in Gladwell’s catalogue, moving with an apparent lack of effort through and between his books. She has a clear thesis that is developed, amplified, and otherwise nuanced over the course of the essay.  A writer who disagrees vehemently with Tkacik’s thesis and all her supporting arguments–or a writer who couldn’t care less about Gladwell one way or the other–still has a lot to gain from reading this essay. It’s a stand-out example of a particular kind of long-form criticism.

6 Comments
November 7th, 2009 / 3:45 pm

Fourteen Hills, WTF?

fourteenhills

Fourteen Hills, I respect you, you had a cool anthology, and I’ve sent you stuff before because I like you (and will probably send you stuff again), but couldn’t you have just pretended this particular 775-day form rejection ‘got lost in the mail’? I mean, I understand shit sometimes falls behind the mini-fridge, but two years? Good grief – next time, just take the SASE and use it for yourself. Nobody will ever know.

What’s great about this is I can’t tell who has the better sense of humor: the author who reported this rejection on Duotrope or whoever on your staff decided to write this bit of copy: Fourteen Hills is a testimony to the fact that independent, innovative and experimental literature is alive and thriving.’

Mean / 25 Comments
November 1st, 2009 / 2:14 pm

Bye Mean Week

cute

That’s that. I had fun a little. People are crazy. Sometimes there are ideas. Thanks for playing.

This weekend is Halloween. Eat some candy? Get drunk if you have to. Wear a costume? I’m thinking of going as William Burroughs, if I go. Might need a fedora and some glasses and come stains and cat hair on a suit, that’s all. What will you be?

This weekend I am reading Thomas Bernhard’s Wittgenstein’s Nephew, which just came out in a new version from Vintage. It feels nice in another, Bernhardian kind of way.

I am also reading Heather Christle’s The Difficult Farm, which also just came out, and which we will run excerpts from and love for all next week. After Mean Week, comes Heather Christle Week. I think it will serve as a fine rainbow.

Another announcement is forthcoming. In the meantime, take your blood around, install a doorstop, and enjoy.

Mean / 33 Comments
October 30th, 2009 / 4:23 pm

Ambidextrous Authors and Non-Ambidextrous Authors

AMBIDEXTROUS AUTHORS

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Dorothy Parker, Toni Morrison, and Raymond Carver belong to a group of ambidextrous authors who have the facility to place both hands at the sides of their respective cheeks simultaneously. During photo shoots, they are keen on demonstrating this ability. Their adroit use of two hands at the keyboard have led to prolific and sprawling careers. Their contracts stipulate that they are “paid by the palm,” which means more gin n’ tonic for all (some pills too). Some have suggested that they misinterpret the phrase “turn the other cheek,” and are struggling to turn both at once. Jesus has nothing to do with this business; Zion is crowded as it is. The ambidextrous are witty, black, and depressed — but never at the same time.

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Mean / 19 Comments
October 30th, 2009 / 2:54 pm

Who Is Justin Taylor?

facebook blankI’m not about to tell you, except for this: Justin Taylor is very dear to me, and I to him. He even dedicated his–wait for it–chapbook to me. No joke. Some days, we are engaged to be married. We’ll have an early-morning wedding, family only, with a luncheon of cold meats and fowls following. But you don’t know me too well, either, so none of that info should really affect what I’m soliciting from you.

Knowing Justin heaps better than any one of you, I always love to read all the inaccurate insults hurled at him by HTMLGiant peeps. But there haven’t been nearly enough this Mean Week, for my liking. I would like to provide one place, right here, to collect all the wild misconceptions, ad-hominem attacks, and elaborate speculations. I’m especially interested in the latter. It seems that people here have especially detailed mental images of who this man is. Please share, right here, at the end of Mean Week. Don’t hold back. It’ll be more fun than hating on Tao Lin (are they really roommates!?!?!), I promise, because Mr. Taylor is more truly our own.

Author Spotlight & Mean / 113 Comments
October 30th, 2009 / 12:41 pm

I’d Probably Get More Replies if This Was About College Rankings

collegeThis may be  weak for mean week, but of late, after catching up with an old friend, I’ve been thinking about college majors and their relationship to what we write. Most people I meet now assume I was an English major, but I was history. Here’s the mildly mean part–I sometimes feel slightly, unjustifiably superior to writers who were English majors–it’s as if I mastered (or, I guess, bachelored) a whole nuther thing first, and they didn’t.

I know that college majors rarely relate directly to future career choice. But four years is a long time to think about something in a serious way. My history coursework was far more rigorous than my MFA work, and my history thesis was much more grueling as well. Somehow, knowing a lot about torture during the Algerian War must inform my writing. All of it does even more for my reading, probably. Context!

So, what did y’all major in? What relationship do you think it has to your writing, if any? If you were in English major, do you think that helps or hurts you, or neither?

Behind the Scenes & Mean / 91 Comments
October 30th, 2009 / 10:57 am

Breaking the Cycle of Consent: e-chapbooks

There is no such thing as an e-chapbook. And honestly, why would you want there to be? The very term shrieks “diminished expectations” and “compromised dignity.” This is no referendum on the quality of your poetry, which I do not doubt is lovely, smart, and in the words of Daphne Dunham writing about Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol, “brain candy of the best sort.”

Nonetheless, “e-chapbook” is a non-form that somebody made up, presumably as a joke, but which, like everything else in the poetry world, seems doomed to invert the classic Marxist formula–ahem, flarf–by appearing first as farce, and then as tragedy, which is the late-stage of e-chapbookism in which we now find ourselves copiously sighing. Can you think of anything more ludicrous than the idea that the publication of a pdf file to a blogger page is somehow cause for a new entry on one’s bibliography? I can, but all the examples are about other things, like healthcare.

In poetry world, this seems about as absurd as it gets, and the logical extension of the poetry “pub-credit arms race” which, unsurprisingly, tends to do double duty as an all-purpose “race to the bottom.” The only thing that I wonder is whether the impetus is the result of cynicism, laziness, or a sheer lack of imagination on the part of so-called “innovative” publishers. Though, now that I’m thinking about it, I suppose there’s really no reason why I shouldn’t be generous in my thinking and assume it’s all three at once. It’s the same lamentable urge that causes poets to casually mis-identify “chapbooks” as “books,” as in, “I had five books last year, and three more are coming out in the next six months.”

Listen, I’m sure your poems are great and I’m really glad you have eight friends with access to a copy machine and/or letter press. Seriously. That’s awesome. (I have one friend who has these things–and I love him.) And I’ve no doubt–none whatsoever–that the work is deserving of–or perhaps better than–Allen Ginsberg’s description of Naked Lunch as “the endless [poetry chapbook] which will drive everybody mad.” Still, it must be said that you have not in fact published “a book” of any kind–not even of the chapbook kind, since the one thing one of the many and best things the chapbook has going for it is its built-in value as a limited-edition, a status necessarily contingent on the physicality of the thing itself. And if you’re wondering why “must it” be said– the reason is very simple: because you are standing there trying to convince me that you have. If you weren’t trying to lie to me, I wouldn’t be forced to tell you the truth about yourself. But by all means, do go ahead and fwd me that pdf file. I’m genuinely excited to see it.

Mean / 134 Comments
October 30th, 2009 / 10:28 am

Diameter of a Circle Jerk

Clio-CircleJerk-751056.jpgThe recent “Bubble Boy” hoax may be read as an example of how people are, or wish to be, famous for being famous. Think of “New York” (person) from Flavor of Love who got her own show for being an awesome ho, or  Octomom, or those bitches from The Hills or The Kardashians. People work on being famous instead of just working. These examples are “lowbrow,” but we are not exempt.

I have a hard time commenting on someone’s blog, or even this website, telling so and so I really liked their post or their story or whatever. If my feelings are very strong, I email them. If I can’t find their email, I say to myself: “This person will do fine in life without getting an email from me,” or “it should not matter to this person if I like their story — they should be writing on behalf of the story, not its reception.” And it all fits perfect in my head: 1) writers write, 2) readers read, and 3) everybody lives a nice modest life, 4) in relative obscurity, and 5) maybe one day, if applicable, a writer may be recognized, however mildly, for their contribution to literature.

READ MORE >

Mean / 102 Comments
October 29th, 2009 / 8:17 pm

Seen this Movie Before: All Publicists Go to Heaven….Don’t They?

And it isn’t even MEAN WEEK at the Rumpus! Click through anywhere to read the whole sick amazing thing.

The Rumpus received a press release for a new book today, along with a kind personal note. Unfortunately, we can’t cover every book that gets released. But since a lot of people who read this site have blogs of their own we thought we would share this press release with you. Feel free to contact the publicist directly.

***

Hi Stephen,

I came across your website and have a story idea that is appropriate for your readers. We have several options of how we can provide content for your site, too (see below).

TOPIC: Pets bring us joy and companionship. However, as with all living things, there comes a time when we have to say goodbye to our furry friends. Have you ever wondered where your pet goes after it passes from this place? Animal lover and rescuer Susi Pittman, who is often referred to as “Susi of Assisi,” explores this question in her new book, Animals in Heaven? Catholics Want to Know!

Mean & Web Hype / 6 Comments
October 29th, 2009 / 6:50 pm

Elitism: An Encomium

creamIf you are the among the best at something, who can blame you for wanting to associate with other people who are among the best at things, too? Like, if you’ve got the best tits, why shouldn’t you want to date whoever has the best hoodies, or become best friends with whoever’s got the best pepperoni? Why, at HTMLGiant, is elitism such a dirty word–and not the good kind that gets you cred in the comments section?

“Elite” means the choice part. The cream. The fruit. It seems as if among certain cohorts of writers and thinking people, this one included, some kind of stigma is attached to being, doing, or having the best, even if that superiority is hard-won and merit-based. And it’s even worse to demonstrate an affinity for others who you deem to be the best. Editors are called elitist if they publish the same writers over and over again or send form rejections. But an editor by definition must be selective, and choosy. Maybe we would choose differently than they would, but that’s why we all must figure out which publications we trust.

When someone cries elitist, to me it just sounds like envy at not feeling like a part of the elite. The envy is understandable! It’s nice here in the creamy, fruity elite. Wish I could extend an invitation.

Mean / 123 Comments
October 29th, 2009 / 4:26 pm