Behind the Scenes
What U Readin’ 4?
Ok, not to start the same argument all over again, but certain comments got me really wondering: if you think a book that meets or surpasses what Ulysses did for its time is not being created during our time, why the fuck are you writing? Better yet, why the fuck are you reading? To make the daisy chain just a little bit longer? Sure, maybe you think Ulysses as a book is actually boring (read: work) (haha), and the next book object that would do what it did now would likely look nothing like it (which is, I think, another misconstruing of my point: of course it wouldn’t! otherwise it wouldn’t be new…), but for my money if you are so dead in the water over the prospect of innovation (read: ingenuity, fun), and honestly believe that people out there (outside yourself) aren’t writing in such ways, I have no idea what business you have near printed matter, much less discussing it in a public forum. There are enough people to stir the swill. But really, though: why?
Addendum to this question (prodded by Q’s from Christian): Are you an amibitious reader? Why/why not? How?
Do you think, Blake, we should write towards the goal of the “next Ulysses”? Should we be writing for infamy & a big slot in the canon?
Why do you write? I’ll tell you if you tell me.
Do you think, Blake, we should write towards the goal of the “next Ulysses”? Should we be writing for infamy & a big slot in the canon?
Why do you write? I’ll tell you if you tell me.
i’m thinking of it less from a writing position myself, as i just kind of write because it comes out, and more confused over the idea that people don’t believe that the kind of innovation and play still exists. i fail to understand that in any way.
i’m thinking of it less from a writing position myself, as i just kind of write because it comes out, and more confused over the idea that people don’t believe that the kind of innovation and play still exists. i fail to understand that in any way.
anyone who sits down to write thinking ‘i am going to be innovative’ is a sap.
it is more as a person in among the world of writing that i can’t imagine wanting to write at all myself if i didn’t feel electric from what was going on around me.
anyone who sits down to write thinking ‘i am going to be innovative’ is a sap.
it is more as a person in among the world of writing that i can’t imagine wanting to write at all myself if i didn’t feel electric from what was going on around me.
blake i feel electric from what is going on around me.
i realize that to talk for other people or to assume they feel the same is a dickbag move
but seriously. there is so much going on how can one not find something to get excited about.
and if you’re not then you should just write something that is.
that is worth getting excited about.
blake i feel electric from what is going on around me.
i realize that to talk for other people or to assume they feel the same is a dickbag move
but seriously. there is so much going on how can one not find something to get excited about.
and if you’re not then you should just write something that is.
that is worth getting excited about.
Blake: I agree. I know people who sit down with the goal of being “innovative.” What comes out is pretty lame. (Myself included. When I did that. Now, I just write.)
& yeah, there’s cool shit going on! I’m excited to read, constantly excited to read! In fact, I just read a ms of Joshua Cohen’s new novella & it’s the most brilliant thing I’ve read in I don’t know how long. So everyone should be excited.
Blake: I agree. I know people who sit down with the goal of being “innovative.” What comes out is pretty lame. (Myself included. When I did that. Now, I just write.)
& yeah, there’s cool shit going on! I’m excited to read, constantly excited to read! In fact, I just read a ms of Joshua Cohen’s new novella & it’s the most brilliant thing I’ve read in I don’t know how long. So everyone should be excited.
My big question from the last thread remains: what would meeting or passing what Ulysses did for its time entail?
Like I said before, the Ulysses example itself might be getting in my way because I do find it boring, though not because it’s “work” (which is kind of an obnoxious assumption), but because I’m not thrilled by Joyce’s push to move the novel toward interiority (because I frankly don’t care about the innermost workings of minds that don’t actually exist and it ain’t why I read), because I think all decent books ever are engaged in a conversation with the history of literature (bringing intertextuality to the forefront is fine if that’s your bag but that doesn’t mean it should become the foundation of a new literature), and because as a reader I’m totally up for work, but no matter how much work I do on Ulysses, I don’t see a pay off.
So why not just ask us: Are you ambitious? Why/why not? How?
My big question from the last thread remains: what would meeting or passing what Ulysses did for its time entail?
Like I said before, the Ulysses example itself might be getting in my way because I do find it boring, though not because it’s “work” (which is kind of an obnoxious assumption), but because I’m not thrilled by Joyce’s push to move the novel toward interiority (because I frankly don’t care about the innermost workings of minds that don’t actually exist and it ain’t why I read), because I think all decent books ever are engaged in a conversation with the history of literature (bringing intertextuality to the forefront is fine if that’s your bag but that doesn’t mean it should become the foundation of a new literature), and because as a reader I’m totally up for work, but no matter how much work I do on Ulysses, I don’t see a pay off.
So why not just ask us: Are you ambitious? Why/why not? How?
defining how to be innovative seems impossible and weird to me, so i wouldnt try to ask that question.
this is really fundamentally to me a reading question, not a writing question.
so, ok: are you an ambitious reader? why/why not? how?
defining how to be innovative seems impossible and weird to me, so i wouldnt try to ask that question.
this is really fundamentally to me a reading question, not a writing question.
so, ok: are you an ambitious reader? why/why not? how?
I think maybe the sign of a good reader is someone who is deeply suspicious of a work for “not making sense” but sticks with it. I know I “had” to do that to get into some stuff when I started reading “serious” fiction.
I think maybe the sign of a good reader is someone who is deeply suspicious of a work for “not making sense” but sticks with it. I know I “had” to do that to get into some stuff when I started reading “serious” fiction.
Great questions.
Yes, I’m an ambitious reader because there was a thrill that I got all the time when I first started reading seriously back in high school when all books were new to me so that I could read Dostoevsky next to Kafka nest to Flannery O’Connor and be knocked out by each and compare what I was getting out of each of them. For obvious reasons I get that thrill much less regularly now, but I like the ideas of innovation and ambition, not because I necessarily believe a shift of the level of Ulysses is still possible in literature as we know it, but because something that might be described as innovative or ambitious might also be trying to give me that thrill.
I just think it can happen on the level of the sentence, paragraph, chapter, or book.
Great questions.
Yes, I’m an ambitious reader because there was a thrill that I got all the time when I first started reading seriously back in high school when all books were new to me so that I could read Dostoevsky next to Kafka nest to Flannery O’Connor and be knocked out by each and compare what I was getting out of each of them. For obvious reasons I get that thrill much less regularly now, but I like the ideas of innovation and ambition, not because I necessarily believe a shift of the level of Ulysses is still possible in literature as we know it, but because something that might be described as innovative or ambitious might also be trying to give me that thrill.
I just think it can happen on the level of the sentence, paragraph, chapter, or book.
“next to Flannery O’Connor”
a slip.
“next to Flannery O’Connor”
a slip.
I write to read what I believe hasn’t yet been read by me (yes I am my only reader) and when I come up short I turn to others who feed that need in me to eat what hasn’t yet been eaten by me. I like to eat Butler and Lopez, Lutz and Lock, all of whom make new animals for me to take into my body. I reread Stein and Beckett and Joyce, Faulkner and Hemingway and McCarthy because the meat from those animals hasn’t yet been taken (by my teeth) completely off those bones. I guess I’m always on the look out for that new species born naturally into the landscape through new forms of speech and sentences that are born from those mouths and those strange tongues (the tongue that is attached to the ear). But yeah, I’m hopeful that the literature being made right now is being pushed forwarded and made into something not yet seen or heard or eaten.
I write to read what I believe hasn’t yet been read by me (yes I am my only reader) and when I come up short I turn to others who feed that need in me to eat what hasn’t yet been eaten by me. I like to eat Butler and Lopez, Lutz and Lock, all of whom make new animals for me to take into my body. I reread Stein and Beckett and Joyce, Faulkner and Hemingway and McCarthy because the meat from those animals hasn’t yet been taken (by my teeth) completely off those bones. I guess I’m always on the look out for that new species born naturally into the landscape through new forms of speech and sentences that are born from those mouths and those strange tongues (the tongue that is attached to the ear). But yeah, I’m hopeful that the literature being made right now is being pushed forwarded and made into something not yet seen or heard or eaten.
“I guess I read so that I don’t end up as a waitress in a Waffle House.”
That’s either a direct quote or a pretty close paraphrase from a response to a Waffle House waitress that asked this individual “Chomp chomp chomp, what chew readin’ fer?”
A complimentary Dzanc title of your choice to the first response that gets the correct name – and no Cliff Claven/Jeopardy replies that might technically be correct but not what I’m looking for.
“I guess I read so that I don’t end up as a waitress in a Waffle House.”
That’s either a direct quote or a pretty close paraphrase from a response to a Waffle House waitress that asked this individual “Chomp chomp chomp, what chew readin’ fer?”
A complimentary Dzanc title of your choice to the first response that gets the correct name – and no Cliff Claven/Jeopardy replies that might technically be correct but not what I’m looking for.
Ulysses wasn’t born Ulysses. Things *become* monuments. Even Infinite Jest has had to grow into its present status as a contemporary classic. And at that, not everybody thinks it is one. You should go read Dale Peck’s positively bloodthirsty takedown of IJ (it’s in Hatchet Jobs) not because Dale’s “right” (or “wrong”) but because it’s a good reminder of just how wide the spectrum of valid critical opinion can be.
But it’s still not totally clear to me what you’re really asking about. I’m starting to think it has less to do with Ulysses the book in particular, and more to do with the kind of monumental and unabashed ambition that leads a person to undertake a work of that scope and depth, and to persist in earnest effort on the project until it is done. For Joyce, Finnegans Wake might be a better example, since it took him twice as long, is a hundred times as hard to read, and was much less successful than its predecessor. All of which he had to anticipate while he was working on it, but that didn’t stop him, because he believed so utterly in what he was doing.
Is that what you’re talking about? Because if it is, I’m right there with you, and I think that those books DO get written and published today. What is Blood Meridian if not the summit of a lifetime’s achievement? It doesn’t matter if you love, hate or feel lukewarm about it: there’s simply no question that it represents the high-water mark of McCarthy’s harnessed talent and outsize ambition, which allow him to rise to the challenge of his own aesthetic. That book turns 25 years old next year, which means that in terms of LASTING CULTURAL VALUE, we’re only just now beginning to be able to make any kind of estimate. If Blood Meridian was Ulysses, 2009 would be 1946, McCarthy would be five years dead, and the last American edition of his book would have been ten years earlier (’36) and the next edition would be fourteen years in the future (the revised Bodley Head edition in ’60).
That’s just one example. Who else writes from this place of towering ambition, swinging for the fences of literary greatness? DeLillo, in Underworld- I like other of his books better, but there’s no question that that’s the one where he’s gone All In. Marilynne Robinson, in her two most recent novels (again, though the first is still my favorite). Ben Lerner, in his poems, Campbell McGrath in his, Lyn Hejinian in My Life, and God help him, Ron Silliman in The Alphabet, a book that probably nobody will ever read all of (maybe for good reason) but you don’t write a poem the size of two phonebooks without believing in your own self-importance, at least a little. And again, I want to be clear that I’m not picking “bests” here, just looking for situation-relevant examples. Pynchon is another writer with Ulysses-size ambitions, and these seem to have been realized at least twice, in Gravity’s Rainbow and in Mason&Dixon–and I say that as somebody who simply can’t stand him.
Two of my favorite writers–Cooper and Hannah–have written books I think *will* or *ought to* last, but that’s not the same as saying that they were trying to outdo Milton when they sat down to write. They wrote, I suspect, for more personal reasons (unlike Milton himself, who wanted to eclipse Shakespeare and/or found a new version of Christianity–he didn’t quite succeed, but it’s a pretty not-bad failure, as failures go.)
It also shouldn’t surprise you that most of these examples are OLDER ESTABLISHED types. That’s because Great Writing That Lasts For All Time, *takes time* to get written. It requires enormous trial and sometimes grave error. (Hasn’t DeLillo disavowed much of his early work?) Ulysses was written over seven years–which actually isn’t bad, compared to the twenty he spent on the Wake. Robinson’s binary stars of Gilead & Home were bought with TWENTY-FIVE YEARS OF SILENCE. I don’t have any stats to throw out on my other examples.
I’ll close be re-iterating what I said the other day (comment #300something), which is that if I were placing bets on the potential Ulysses-ification of work by people approximately my own age, the only one of us I’m not hedging on is Joshua Cohen.
Ulysses wasn’t born Ulysses. Things *become* monuments. Even Infinite Jest has had to grow into its present status as a contemporary classic. And at that, not everybody thinks it is one. You should go read Dale Peck’s positively bloodthirsty takedown of IJ (it’s in Hatchet Jobs) not because Dale’s “right” (or “wrong”) but because it’s a good reminder of just how wide the spectrum of valid critical opinion can be.
But it’s still not totally clear to me what you’re really asking about. I’m starting to think it has less to do with Ulysses the book in particular, and more to do with the kind of monumental and unabashed ambition that leads a person to undertake a work of that scope and depth, and to persist in earnest effort on the project until it is done. For Joyce, Finnegans Wake might be a better example, since it took him twice as long, is a hundred times as hard to read, and was much less successful than its predecessor. All of which he had to anticipate while he was working on it, but that didn’t stop him, because he believed so utterly in what he was doing.
Is that what you’re talking about? Because if it is, I’m right there with you, and I think that those books DO get written and published today. What is Blood Meridian if not the summit of a lifetime’s achievement? It doesn’t matter if you love, hate or feel lukewarm about it: there’s simply no question that it represents the high-water mark of McCarthy’s harnessed talent and outsize ambition, which allow him to rise to the challenge of his own aesthetic. That book turns 25 years old next year, which means that in terms of LASTING CULTURAL VALUE, we’re only just now beginning to be able to make any kind of estimate. If Blood Meridian was Ulysses, 2009 would be 1946, McCarthy would be five years dead, and the last American edition of his book would have been ten years earlier (’36) and the next edition would be fourteen years in the future (the revised Bodley Head edition in ’60).
That’s just one example. Who else writes from this place of towering ambition, swinging for the fences of literary greatness? DeLillo, in Underworld- I like other of his books better, but there’s no question that that’s the one where he’s gone All In. Marilynne Robinson, in her two most recent novels (again, though the first is still my favorite). Ben Lerner, in his poems, Campbell McGrath in his, Lyn Hejinian in My Life, and God help him, Ron Silliman in The Alphabet, a book that probably nobody will ever read all of (maybe for good reason) but you don’t write a poem the size of two phonebooks without believing in your own self-importance, at least a little. And again, I want to be clear that I’m not picking “bests” here, just looking for situation-relevant examples. Pynchon is another writer with Ulysses-size ambitions, and these seem to have been realized at least twice, in Gravity’s Rainbow and in Mason&Dixon–and I say that as somebody who simply can’t stand him.
Two of my favorite writers–Cooper and Hannah–have written books I think *will* or *ought to* last, but that’s not the same as saying that they were trying to outdo Milton when they sat down to write. They wrote, I suspect, for more personal reasons (unlike Milton himself, who wanted to eclipse Shakespeare and/or found a new version of Christianity–he didn’t quite succeed, but it’s a pretty not-bad failure, as failures go.)
It also shouldn’t surprise you that most of these examples are OLDER ESTABLISHED types. That’s because Great Writing That Lasts For All Time, *takes time* to get written. It requires enormous trial and sometimes grave error. (Hasn’t DeLillo disavowed much of his early work?) Ulysses was written over seven years–which actually isn’t bad, compared to the twenty he spent on the Wake. Robinson’s binary stars of Gilead & Home were bought with TWENTY-FIVE YEARS OF SILENCE. I don’t have any stats to throw out on my other examples.
I’ll close be re-iterating what I said the other day (comment #300something), which is that if I were placing bets on the potential Ulysses-ification of work by people approximately my own age, the only one of us I’m not hedging on is Joshua Cohen.
nice Dan. i am glad my little shoutout to the man you got. i will let others guess.
nice Dan. i am glad my little shoutout to the man you got. i will let others guess.
Ulysses as an example gets in my way, too, for pretty much precisely the same reasons that christian lists. Interesting that House of Leaves came up on the previous thread, but not Danielewski’s riskier, more innovative Only Revolutions–a novel in rotating verse, which was, in points, messy. One of the hardest books I’ve ever read, but I enjoyed it; the work felt worth it. If the amazon reviews are any indication, I’m pretty much alone in this. What makes one “hard” work enter the canon, and relegates another to bargain racks? My instinct is that some hard work validates certain things about the readership (some are drawn into a circle they suspected they already belonged to, yet they’re simultaneously challenged) while, with some hard works, enough readers just feel ostracized. Outside of the in joke.
But then, I’m a hedonist when it comes to reading. I believe in reading what thrills me, and sometimes that means that my tastes fall outside what’s viewed as “ambitious” or “serious” or whatever fiction–sometimes I enjoy books that are very hard (Russell Hoban’s Riddly Walker and the aforementioned Only Revolutions are two of my favorites of the past five years or so), and sometimes I enjoy books that are easy, but I’ll give any book a fair chance to thrill me–to give me satisfaction, or an engaging plot, or characters or voices that I enjoy. But what I care about isn’t necessarily the ingenuity itself, because skill at craft isn’t enough to convince me that a work is great, but final pay-off. Satisfaction.
Ulysses as an example gets in my way, too, for pretty much precisely the same reasons that christian lists. Interesting that House of Leaves came up on the previous thread, but not Danielewski’s riskier, more innovative Only Revolutions–a novel in rotating verse, which was, in points, messy. One of the hardest books I’ve ever read, but I enjoyed it; the work felt worth it. If the amazon reviews are any indication, I’m pretty much alone in this. What makes one “hard” work enter the canon, and relegates another to bargain racks? My instinct is that some hard work validates certain things about the readership (some are drawn into a circle they suspected they already belonged to, yet they’re simultaneously challenged) while, with some hard works, enough readers just feel ostracized. Outside of the in joke.
But then, I’m a hedonist when it comes to reading. I believe in reading what thrills me, and sometimes that means that my tastes fall outside what’s viewed as “ambitious” or “serious” or whatever fiction–sometimes I enjoy books that are very hard (Russell Hoban’s Riddly Walker and the aforementioned Only Revolutions are two of my favorites of the past five years or so), and sometimes I enjoy books that are easy, but I’ll give any book a fair chance to thrill me–to give me satisfaction, or an engaging plot, or characters or voices that I enjoy. But what I care about isn’t necessarily the ingenuity itself, because skill at craft isn’t enough to convince me that a work is great, but final pay-off. Satisfaction.
yes, i think it is a personal thing, like you are saying: these things come out of a personal hole, a need to have to make out of a genuinely huge space, rather than the idea of sitting down to ‘be creative’. the people you name, who i mostly all agree with are monsters of power, made those works because they had to, and it did not matter what happened after the fact.
i do agree that it takes time for certain works to take their hold, but i also believe that work in the face of the work can be seen and named for what it is even instantaneously. part of what you are talking about if more related to how a work is handled in perception even more than what it is alone, which is often just as instrumental in defining the works over time.
sabra made a good point in the last thread in quoting vonnegut about how *(i’m paraphrasing) there are geniuses of creation, and then there are geniuses who can identify those geniuses, and then there are people who are really good and getting other people to acknowledge those geniuses.
that is probably more of the machinery of it over time than anything else, and how these works get turned from little provinces into accepted exhibits of mastery.
weird.
yes, i think it is a personal thing, like you are saying: these things come out of a personal hole, a need to have to make out of a genuinely huge space, rather than the idea of sitting down to ‘be creative’. the people you name, who i mostly all agree with are monsters of power, made those works because they had to, and it did not matter what happened after the fact.
i do agree that it takes time for certain works to take their hold, but i also believe that work in the face of the work can be seen and named for what it is even instantaneously. part of what you are talking about if more related to how a work is handled in perception even more than what it is alone, which is often just as instrumental in defining the works over time.
sabra made a good point in the last thread in quoting vonnegut about how *(i’m paraphrasing) there are geniuses of creation, and then there are geniuses who can identify those geniuses, and then there are people who are really good and getting other people to acknowledge those geniuses.
that is probably more of the machinery of it over time than anything else, and how these works get turned from little provinces into accepted exhibits of mastery.
weird.
thank you for inducing me towards some sanity peter.
thank you for inducing me towards some sanity peter.
nice Phoebe. i’ve often wondered about Only Revolutions, and yet never picked it up. i may give it a try now, thank you.
nice Phoebe. i’ve often wondered about Only Revolutions, and yet never picked it up. i may give it a try now, thank you.
It’s worth a try. It’s messy in parts, but then, Ulysses is, too!
I think it’s awesome that you mentioned Ben Lerner in this company, because I’ve been thinking throughout these two conversations that size is really at the root of a lot of it, but I think Angle of Yaw is probably the most “ambitious” book I read this year.
It’s worth a try. It’s messy in parts, but then, Ulysses is, too!
I think it’s awesome that you mentioned Ben Lerner in this company, because I’ve been thinking throughout these two conversations that size is really at the root of a lot of it, but I think Angle of Yaw is probably the most “ambitious” book I read this year.
why are you listenining? maybe i assume too much, but i will assume that young jeezy or tom waits aren’t to you the brandeburg concerto (or pick some hugely ambitious musical thing). i read/listen to/watch for lots of reasons, yeah? innovation comes big and little. and both are out there, now, always.
why are you listenining? maybe i assume too much, but i will assume that young jeezy or tom waits aren’t to you the brandeburg concerto (or pick some hugely ambitious musical thing). i read/listen to/watch for lots of reasons, yeah? innovation comes big and little. and both are out there, now, always.
i’m not listening. i gave up on music as art. well, mostly. it became wallpaper for me, and that is why i quit playing it after 13 years in bands. which is part of why i am curious about people going on writing quite a bit while having given up on ingenuity in writing.
hope that’s not the beginning of a long argument.
i’m not listening. i gave up on music as art. well, mostly. it became wallpaper for me, and that is why i quit playing it after 13 years in bands. which is part of why i am curious about people going on writing quite a bit while having given up on ingenuity in writing.
hope that’s not the beginning of a long argument.
why does this seem appropriate to the conversation
why does this seem appropriate to the conversation
I like to read because I hope to find something new, in any way, regardless of innovation. I also like to be touched by my books, and spanked. Maybe fondled. Only if it don’t talk too much.
I like to read because I hope to find something new, in any way, regardless of innovation. I also like to be touched by my books, and spanked. Maybe fondled. Only if it don’t talk too much.
Dale Peck is ‘valid critical opinion?’ Really?
Dale Peck is ‘valid critical opinion?’ Really?
Dan Wickett, Bill Hicks.
Dan Wickett, Bill Hicks.
because johnny rotten was/is a wanker?
because johnny rotten was/is a wanker?
well, as a writer, i totally support those who want to write our time’s ulysses, and as a reader, i want to read it. but as a writer again, it’s not really what i want to write.
so why do i write? well, i write for people (those of my generation) who want to read for pleasure, for entertainment, as an alternative to television, mostly. so, sure, maybe i am just ‘stirring the swill’ but in that way, so were a lot of those whose writing i really enjoy from the past. and it would suck if there were no books being written in a style i enjoy with content i could relate to in the present.
this is not to say that i don’t enjoy reading difficult work and appreciate it for its innovation – i’m very inspired by stream-of-consciousness and have been writing in it from time to time since i first read portrait of the artist as a young man, when i was a young man. but it isn’t quite the same thing as what i mean by entertainment.
while i don’t care for most contemporary hollywood films, i enjoy well-made comedies these days and that’s probably the kind of movie i’ll make if i make another one. at the same time, i also enjoy watching something challenging when i’m in the mood. so it’s not really one or the other for me.
well, as a writer, i totally support those who want to write our time’s ulysses, and as a reader, i want to read it. but as a writer again, it’s not really what i want to write.
so why do i write? well, i write for people (those of my generation) who want to read for pleasure, for entertainment, as an alternative to television, mostly. so, sure, maybe i am just ‘stirring the swill’ but in that way, so were a lot of those whose writing i really enjoy from the past. and it would suck if there were no books being written in a style i enjoy with content i could relate to in the present.
this is not to say that i don’t enjoy reading difficult work and appreciate it for its innovation – i’m very inspired by stream-of-consciousness and have been writing in it from time to time since i first read portrait of the artist as a young man, when i was a young man. but it isn’t quite the same thing as what i mean by entertainment.
while i don’t care for most contemporary hollywood films, i enjoy well-made comedies these days and that’s probably the kind of movie i’ll make if i make another one. at the same time, i also enjoy watching something challenging when i’m in the mood. so it’s not really one or the other for me.
I likely enjoy more writing form the last 25 years than from the 25 years surrounding Ulysses, and I think there is plenty of ingenuity and fun in recent american fiction. Innovation is a hard standard because things tend to look more innovative and important in retrospect. Maybe some book like Infinite Jest will be considered a modern day Ulysses in 30 years.
I likely enjoy more writing form the last 25 years than from the 25 years surrounding Ulysses, and I think there is plenty of ingenuity and fun in recent american fiction. Innovation is a hard standard because things tend to look more innovative and important in retrospect. Maybe some book like Infinite Jest will be considered a modern day Ulysses in 30 years.
Are you asking someone to name Bill Hicks?
Are you asking someone to name Bill Hicks?
I dont think that to say ‘writing at the level of ulysses doesn’t exist’ implies no one is striving toward it. it just means no ones there yet. in my head, that that level hasn’t been gotten at (false objectivity aside) gives me more of a reason to try to get there.
I dont think that to say ‘writing at the level of ulysses doesn’t exist’ implies no one is striving toward it. it just means no ones there yet. in my head, that that level hasn’t been gotten at (false objectivity aside) gives me more of a reason to try to get there.
but again, and again i’m talking as a reader, i don’t understand how one could factorially believe that hasn’t happened in all that time?
again i’m going to point at La Medusa and say it has happened, and will happen again, and again, and though those kind of books do occasionally get published, i imagine it is less of a way to get out there than some people seem to think
my point, again, from the previous time was that there are so few places that truly do put forth that kind of work. they exist, but they are very rare, and a lot of it has to do with the way we read.
but again, and again i’m talking as a reader, i don’t understand how one could factorially believe that hasn’t happened in all that time?
again i’m going to point at La Medusa and say it has happened, and will happen again, and again, and though those kind of books do occasionally get published, i imagine it is less of a way to get out there than some people seem to think
my point, again, from the previous time was that there are so few places that truly do put forth that kind of work. they exist, but they are very rare, and a lot of it has to do with the way we read.
Isn’t it always the case that it is has been rare though?
well, i’m not as well read as i plan to be. i’m ambitious though, sure, if thats what you are looking for.
probably there’s a thing in people’s heads where the origin of a movement is always worth more than its continuation and people see ulysses as the first experimentation that seemed to work on a large scale, so anything experimental after that is lesser in ‘greatness.’ Writers can wrote the next ulysses and the next fwake and the next whatever but Joyce wrote ulysses without having read ulysses, so he wins.
(I don’t really believe joyce wins, I don’t know, I’m just throwing it out there, devils advocate)
Isn’t it always the case that it is has been rare though?
well, i’m not as well read as i plan to be. i’m ambitious though, sure, if thats what you are looking for.
probably there’s a thing in people’s heads where the origin of a movement is always worth more than its continuation and people see ulysses as the first experimentation that seemed to work on a large scale, so anything experimental after that is lesser in ‘greatness.’ Writers can wrote the next ulysses and the next fwake and the next whatever but Joyce wrote ulysses without having read ulysses, so he wins.
(I don’t really believe joyce wins, I don’t know, I’m just throwing it out there, devils advocate)
yes but why
don’t answer that
just why
i’m annoying myself today too, sorry
yes but why
don’t answer that
just why
i’m annoying myself today too, sorry
the moon is moving 1.5 inches away from the earth every year
the moon is moving 1.5 inches away from the earth every year
Who is Hannah?
Who is Hannah?
Hey Alan, I was actually about to post your excerpt from the Gary Lutz article (on your blog) here in the comments. Good to see another DC fan here.
I think he’s talking about Barry Hannah.
Hey Alan, I was actually about to post your excerpt from the Gary Lutz article (on your blog) here in the comments. Good to see another DC fan here.
I think he’s talking about Barry Hannah.
Yesterday night we hosted an event here in Brooklyn, and the event ran way long. I worried, for a little while, that people would lose interest because of the sheer amount of writing that was being shared. But then I realized that it’s BS to not want to challenge your audience or your reader.
Yesterday night we hosted an event here in Brooklyn, and the event ran way long. I worried, for a little while, that people would lose interest because of the sheer amount of writing that was being shared. But then I realized that it’s BS to not want to challenge your audience or your reader.
Justin,
Agreed.
Justin,
Agreed.
I’d like to think I’m an ambitious reader b/c actively seeking out new literary experiences that overturn my preconceptions about what can and can’t be done, that shock and rehardwire my sense of language, that seek to open up new possibilities on the level of narrative, form, and/or language. Whether that’s more recent writers like Dennis Cooper or Ben Marcus, older ones like Raymond Roussel, Machado de Assis, Julio Cortazar, Pierre Guyotat, etc.
I think it’s important for writers to swing for the fences – and the mind-altering success stories that have resulted come in both major phonebook size tomes and explosive slim volumes. It’s still happening today, of course. Having worked in publishing on the editorial and agent side, I do think it’s safe to say that it’s extremely hard for challenging and world-beating works to get bought and published. The industry has become so driven by quarterly earnings reports and the like that many forget they’re (potentially) handling art and not processing widgets. Instead of buying a great book and then figuring out a compelling marketing plan to convince people that they should check it out, many editors look for books that fit into an already successful marketing scheme and then simply make sure it’s decent enough to publish.
I ran a film festival in North Carolina where we showed some hardcore at movies — works by Jacques Rivette, Chris Marker, Brothers Quay, Chris Wellsby, Charles Burnett, etc. I was told again and again that nobody here had any desire to see those films. But I picked stuff I loved and then developed really cool-looking posters and a grassroots media campaign – and sold out many of the shows. People were curious to check out something different. And many were surprised how much they liked these movies they’d never heard about.
I found the audiences were more adventurous and open-minded than any of the curators at the local arts institutions here. They simply couldn’t believe over 300 people would sit through these movies — much less enjoy them. These curators saw it as their job to protect the public from work that they might find “difficult.” But in fact they often less sophisticated themselves than the audience they so smugly looked down upon. I think some of the same principles apply in today’s publishing. The vision of Grove Press in the 60s and 70s should be a business model – not a freak outlier.
Am I way off topic yet? I think I’m probably rehashing points from the original post.
One way to change things is getting people thinking about reading and supporting more challenging new (and old) work. To showcase that work in more exciting ways and talk about in forums that engage more and more people. Which is just what this site does. So thank you for that and keep up the good work.
I’d like to think I’m an ambitious reader b/c actively seeking out new literary experiences that overturn my preconceptions about what can and can’t be done, that shock and rehardwire my sense of language, that seek to open up new possibilities on the level of narrative, form, and/or language. Whether that’s more recent writers like Dennis Cooper or Ben Marcus, older ones like Raymond Roussel, Machado de Assis, Julio Cortazar, Pierre Guyotat, etc.
I think it’s important for writers to swing for the fences – and the mind-altering success stories that have resulted come in both major phonebook size tomes and explosive slim volumes. It’s still happening today, of course. Having worked in publishing on the editorial and agent side, I do think it’s safe to say that it’s extremely hard for challenging and world-beating works to get bought and published. The industry has become so driven by quarterly earnings reports and the like that many forget they’re (potentially) handling art and not processing widgets. Instead of buying a great book and then figuring out a compelling marketing plan to convince people that they should check it out, many editors look for books that fit into an already successful marketing scheme and then simply make sure it’s decent enough to publish.
I ran a film festival in North Carolina where we showed some hardcore at movies — works by Jacques Rivette, Chris Marker, Brothers Quay, Chris Wellsby, Charles Burnett, etc. I was told again and again that nobody here had any desire to see those films. But I picked stuff I loved and then developed really cool-looking posters and a grassroots media campaign – and sold out many of the shows. People were curious to check out something different. And many were surprised how much they liked these movies they’d never heard about.
I found the audiences were more adventurous and open-minded than any of the curators at the local arts institutions here. They simply couldn’t believe over 300 people would sit through these movies — much less enjoy them. These curators saw it as their job to protect the public from work that they might find “difficult.” But in fact they often less sophisticated themselves than the audience they so smugly looked down upon. I think some of the same principles apply in today’s publishing. The vision of Grove Press in the 60s and 70s should be a business model – not a freak outlier.
Am I way off topic yet? I think I’m probably rehashing points from the original post.
One way to change things is getting people thinking about reading and supporting more challenging new (and old) work. To showcase that work in more exciting ways and talk about in forums that engage more and more people. Which is just what this site does. So thank you for that and keep up the good work.
Blake – Also, looking forward to yr list of 15 Towering Literary Geniuses currently at work today – or whatever it was that was promised in the comments of the original post. Curious to see who you tap and who I might have been overlooking.
Blake – Also, looking forward to yr list of 15 Towering Literary Geniuses currently at work today – or whatever it was that was promised in the comments of the original post. Curious to see who you tap and who I might have been overlooking.
very good comment Jeff, thank you. i agree, that audiences are ready, and that that era of Grove should be a model. God, what they did. thanks for the kind words
very good comment Jeff, thank you. i agree, that audiences are ready, and that that era of Grove should be a model. God, what they did. thanks for the kind words
Oh, duh. Thanks, Ken.
I don’t BH’s stuff but I was checking it out on Amazon after reading that Lutz article.
Can anyone recommend something to start with?
Great thread, btw.
I was actually freaky book collector till last years. But then there was kind of twist – and I am not collecting books anymore. I read them now. It doesn’t mean, I haven’t used to read them before. But the first state of reading was consuming. The recent state of reading counts to life-support measures. When I am reading, I feel myself legitimate to exist (even if it does sound very weird).
When I’m writing, it’s another state of beeing. Writing means for me neither ideas transfer, nor self-reflexion orgy. When I write I materialize the inner world. I feel myself like Demiurg, even if my world is small and humble and weird and stuff. Actually, I’m writing for myself – surely with the hope, I won’t be only the audience of my writings. How schizophrenic!
Anyway, reading and writing are for me the reason to exist. I know, sounds pathetic, but it is so for me.
Start with Airships
Oh, duh. Thanks, Ken.
I don’t BH’s stuff but I was checking it out on Amazon after reading that Lutz article.
Can anyone recommend something to start with?
Great thread, btw.
I was actually freaky book collector till last years. But then there was kind of twist – and I am not collecting books anymore. I read them now. It doesn’t mean, I haven’t used to read them before. But the first state of reading was consuming. The recent state of reading counts to life-support measures. When I am reading, I feel myself legitimate to exist (even if it does sound very weird).
When I’m writing, it’s another state of beeing. Writing means for me neither ideas transfer, nor self-reflexion orgy. When I write I materialize the inner world. I feel myself like Demiurg, even if my world is small and humble and weird and stuff. Actually, I’m writing for myself – surely with the hope, I won’t be only the audience of my writings. How schizophrenic!
Anyway, reading and writing are for me the reason to exist. I know, sounds pathetic, but it is so for me.
Start with Airships
yeah, Airships is his ‘entry book’, but from there Bats Out of Hell and Ray are both musts.
yeah, Airships is his ‘entry book’, but from there Bats Out of Hell and Ray are both musts.
Yes, Lincoln, I was. Shoot me an email at wickettd@yahoo.com and let me know what Dzanc title you’d like a complimentary copy of and the address to send it to and it will go out on Tuesday.
Yes, Lincoln, I was. Shoot me an email at wickettd@yahoo.com and let me know what Dzanc title you’d like a complimentary copy of and the address to send it to and it will go out on Tuesday.
Matthew,
Not only are you right, but you also actually answered before Lincoln, I just hadn’t read far enough down. Same deal, shoot me an email at wickettd@yahoo.com and the Dzanc title you’d like a copy of and an address to send it to.
Matthew,
Not only are you right, but you also actually answered before Lincoln, I just hadn’t read far enough down. Same deal, shoot me an email at wickettd@yahoo.com and the Dzanc title you’d like a copy of and an address to send it to.
Hey! I answered before Lincoln. Look down at the comments below!
Hey! I answered before Lincoln. Look down at the comments below!
Wait you did! Scratch that, dude.
Wait you did! Scratch that, dude.
I like mess.
Here’s Nabokov’s response to your inelegantly phrased question:
“There are three points of view from which a writer can be considered: he may be considered as a storyteller, as a teacher, and as an enchanter. A major writer combines these three — storyteller, teacher, enchanter — but it is the enchanter in him that predominates and makes him a major writer.”
http://thefloatinglibrary.com/2009/08/09/good-readers-and-good-writers-vladimir-nabokov
Attitudinally, I think you’re in danger of regressing to adolescence with your question.
I read for authority, audacity (thematic more than formal), execution, oomph — not to mention, heft and truth and humor and sadness. Simple things. Formal innovation is way down on the effin’ list for me.
Here’s Nabokov’s response to your inelegantly phrased question:
“There are three points of view from which a writer can be considered: he may be considered as a storyteller, as a teacher, and as an enchanter. A major writer combines these three — storyteller, teacher, enchanter — but it is the enchanter in him that predominates and makes him a major writer.”
http://thefloatinglibrary.com/2009/08/09/good-readers-and-good-writers-vladimir-nabokov
Attitudinally, I think you’re in danger of regressing to adolescence with your question.
I read for authority, audacity (thematic more than formal), execution, oomph — not to mention, heft and truth and humor and sadness. Simple things. Formal innovation is way down on the effin’ list for me.
While I liked House of Leaves, Only Revolutions felt like Danielewski showing off. I didn’t find it difficult, just pointless.
While I liked House of Leaves, Only Revolutions felt like Danielewski showing off. I didn’t find it difficult, just pointless.