Terry Teachout on the arts in New York City
“If teachers are in the habit of approaching a story as if it were a research problem for which any answer is believable so long as it is not obvious, then I think students will never learn to enjoy fiction. Too much interpretation is certainly worse than too little, and where feeling for a story is absent, theory will not supply it.”
Flannery O’Connor, letter to an unnamed teacher (1961)
Here’s a sign of the times: JenniCam, the site on which you can view real-time video of life inside Jenni Ringley’s bedroom, is shutting down on December 31 after more than seven years “on the air” (or whatever the properly postmodern term for Webcasting is).
I hadn’t heard anything about Jenni and her so-called life for ages, but there was a time when her Web site was all the rage, so much so that she attracted quite a few subscribers willing to pay for premium content, not to mention half-witted academic theory-spinners like the professor of psychology who penned the following paragraph, for which he doubtless received tenure:
The JenniCam phenomenon is a unique example of how cyberspace addresses such needs for belonging and the social affirmation of self. There was an overwhelming response to Jennifer Ringley when she set up a live, continuous video broadcast of her dorm room, and then later her apartment. People who idealized, even worshipped, Jenni banded together in groups to talk about her, speculate about her, share screen captured pictures of her. She became the focal point of their camaraderie. Their collective admiration of her–a kind of idealizing transference–served to bolster their sense of self.
Jenni herself was a bit of a theory-spinner, in her fashion. Asked by an interviewer to explain the appeal of her site, she replied:
I think people are getting tired of seeing airbrushed models in magazines and unrealistic actors and actresses living unrealistic lives. The real lives of real people are even more special and interesting and “perfect” than what you find on TV. I try to impress the idea that I do the JenniCam with the belief that EVERYONE is so special, and I hope that’s what people come away with.
JenniCam was, of course, nothing more than a hula-hoop-type fad, but seven years ago the Web itself was still something of a giant-sized hula hoop, in much the same way as was television circa 1948. Back then, pretty much anything could draw a crowd–championship wrestling, roller derbies, B-movie matinees–simply because TV itself was so new that people would watch whatever was on, fascinated not by the message but by the medium. The Internet was like that in 1996. Now it’s part of the air we breathe, so much so that I rarely stop to reflect on what life was like before e-mail, amazon.com, Google, and blogs.
To be sure, most blogs are the verbal equivalent of JenniCam, but the silly ones neither get nor deserve much attention. Instead, the blog has evolved with astonishing speed into something far removed from mere faddishness. It is now a full-fledged journalistic medium, the first truly new one since the dawn of network TV. JenniCam was a curiosity, but blogs–or something like them–are here to stay.
Nevertheless, Jenni Ringley has earned herself a footnote in the history of the information age: she will be remembered as the Milton Berle of the Web. She was present at the creation of a radically innovative form of interpersonal communication, and used it to show the world her underwear. What’s more, the world turned out to be interested in her underwear–briefly. Then something more interesting came along, and Jenni’s underwear turned out not to be soooooo special after all.
In case you’re wondering, I’m still sneezing. One of my editors read of my plight on the blog (my voice is out of order, so I’m not returning calls) and e-mailed me the following piece of advice: “Drink heavily. It’s your only hope.”
I’ll try that tomorrow. Tonight, I think I’ll stick to TheraFlu. See you Tuesday.
The King-Hazzard debates that began at the National Book Awards dinner and rippled through blogland a couple of weeks ago are anticipated in this 1999 piece by Ray Sawhill on what publishing professionals wish they had time to read–and what they would like to never have to read again.
It was when I asked my interviewees to specify what they’d be happiest not reading that the surprises began. (The wittiest answers: Publishers Weekly and the New York Times Book Review.) John Grisham, perhaps predictably, topped the list. But after him came writers from among today’s most respected literary figures. Salman Rushdie (“boring and pretentious”) and Toni Morrison shared top honors. Don DeLillo (“he’s homework”), Norman Mailer, Thomas Pynchon, John Updike, Tom Wolfe and Martin Amis trailed close behind. (To be fair, each of these writers also had a fan or two.) In fact, of the dozen publishing people I polled, only three would still be devotees of what passes today for literary writing if it weren’t part of their jobs.
The list of living writers my subjects would willingly continue to read was much more varied…
Click through to find out who. Sawhill’s essay originally appeared in Salon. His reflections on the results of his informal poll cut to the heart of the discussion about the relative merits of popular and “literary” fiction (a distinction that has proven hard to hold in place) that followed the awards dinner:
What would our reading lives be like if they weren’t preoccupied with, or nagged at by, the dream of literature? My poll suggests that in such a world the reader who finds Toni Morrison a hectoring drag and Salman Rushdie a radical-chic blowhard wouldn’t hesitate to say so. We would give serious thought to the argument that, for example, Elmore Leonard is more likely to be read 50 years from now than Martin Amis. Preferring Rikki Ducornet and Dennis Cooper would be fine, too. In any case, it turns out that, even if your reading stash looks like a disorderly heap of magazines, mysteries, celebrity bios, a classic or two, fiction by a couple of literary figures you’ve grown attached to and books about your personal interests–whether it’s birdbaths or the nature of consciousness–there’s no reason to feel shame or guilt. Nobody can read everything. And, besides, you’re already reading like the pros wish they could, if only they had the chance.
Very nicely said.
Apologies to those of you who may have loaded About Last Night a little earlier and found a rough (very rough!) draft of my post just below (at that time provisionally titled “Hot now”). I was as surprised to see it up here as you were. The post is now in finished form, complete with its right title, and I hope you’ll give it a second go.
As end-of-the-year journalism starts rearing its predictable head, do you ever notice how “what’s in, what’s out” lists (yes, the fish I am shooting today do inhabit a barrel) tend to mix three elements in roughly equal parts: observable trends; embedded advertising; and attempts to instill good behavior in the gauze-thin guise of arbitrating coolness? I have last Sunday’s Chicago Tribune Magazine in front of me, with its six pages of Hots and Nots.
In the first category, the pairings more or less report what’s out there: “fitted little jackets” and Jake Gyllenhall are HOT, “oversized boyfriend jackets” and Josh Hartnett are NOT. This boils down to the media reporting on media-generated buzz, but it’s the kind of stuff one reads these lists for, and is fair enough.
In the second category, you can pretty much see the fashion industry’s lips moving as the features writers pronounce, “HOT: The fitted trench with a twist (like a grape purple Burberry); NOT: Plain beige.”
But it’s the third category–more Goofus and Gallant than Out and In–that kills me. It’s so priggish and Miss Manners, except that Miss Manners is doing her job, while hot lists are pretending to be something quite different. Much as I can’t argue with a lot of the implicit social and moral instruction dispensed in this category, it’s hard not to snicker at the attempt to soft-sell it as good taste, or all the rage. I have lots of examples from the Tribune, both because they are so plentiful and because they are so risible:
HOT: Making out at the bar
NOT: Going home with someone from the bar
Yep, don’t not go home with that stranger because it wouldn’t be prudent; don’t do it because it wouldn’t be hot.
HOT: Introducing friends to one another (www.friendster.com)
NOT: Keeping friends to yourself
Selfishness: so last year!
HOT: Docs who incorporate alternative medicine
NOT: Docs who have no clue
This one doesn’t really have the courage of its convictions, since if you’re just incorporating your alternative medicine into your conventional medicine, it’s not really an alternative, is it? But you have to be impressed by the bold stand against clueless doctors (if less so by the implication that conventional methods make them so). Maybe 2005 will be their year.
But here’s my favorite:
HOT: Judging for yourself
NOT: Critics’ reviews of films, books
This appears to be the silliest reverberation to date of the manufactured discontentment that is the Believer magazine’s police blotter, Snarkwatch, where you can write in to pillory critics you disagree with. What started as a (in my opinion, dubious and thin-skinned) manifesto against dismissively clever book reviewing has now devolved into the soundbite “critics not hot.” I think it’s safe to say that the hunt for snark has jumped the shark.
As end-of-the-year journalism starts rearing its predictable head, do you ever notice how “what’s in, what’s out” lists (yes, the fish I am shooting today do inhabit a barrel) tend to mix three elements in roughly equal parts: observable trends; embedded advertising; and attempts to instill good behavior in the gauze-thin guise of arbitrating coolness? I have last Sunday’s Chicago Tribune Magazine in front of me, with its six pages of Hots and Nots.
In the first category, the pairings more or less report what’s out there: “fitted little jackets” and Jake Gyllenhall are HOT, “oversized boyfriend jackets” and Josh Hartnett are NOT. This boils down to the media reporting on media-generated buzz, but it’s the kind of stuff one reads these lists for, and is fair enough.
In the second category, you can pretty much see the fashion industry’s lips moving as the features writers pronounce, “HOT: The fitted trench with a twist (like a grape purple Burberry); NOT: Plain beige.”
But it’s the third category–more Goofus and Gallant than Out and In–that kills me. It’s so priggish and Miss Manners, except that Miss Manners is doing her job, while hot lists are pretending to be something quite different. Much as I can’t argue with a lot of the implicit social and moral instruction dispensed in this category, it’s hard not to snicker at the attempt to soft-sell it as good taste, or all the rage. I have lots of examples from the Tribune, both because they are so plentiful and because they are so risible:
HOT: Making out at the bar
NOT: Going home with someone from the bar
Yep, don’t not go home with that stranger because it wouldn’t be prudent; don’t do it because it wouldn’t be hot.
HOT: Introducing friends to one another (www.friendster.com)
NOT: Keeping friends to yourself
Selfishness: so last year!
HOT: Docs who incorporate alternative medicine
NOT: Docs who have no clue
This one doesn’t really have the courage of its convictions, since if you’re just incorporating your alternative medicine into your conventional medicine, it’s not really an alternative, is it? But you have to be impressed by the bold stand against clueless doctors (if less so by the implication that conventional methods make them so). Maybe 2005 will be their year.
But here’s my favorite:
HOT: Judging for yourself
NOT: Critics’ reviews of films, books
This appears to be the silliest reverberation to date of the manufactured discontentment that is the Believer magazine’s police blotter, Snarkwatch, where you can write in to pillory critics you disagree with. What started as a (in my opinion, dubious and thin-skinned) manifesto against dismissively clever book reviewing has now devolved into the soundbite “critics not hot.” I think it’s safe to say that the hunt for snark has jumped the shark.
As end-of-the-year journalism starts rearing its predictable head, do you ever notice how “what’s in, what’s out” lists (yes, the fish I am shooting today do inhabit a barrel) tend to mix three elements in roughly equal parts: observable trends; embedded advertising; and attempts to instill good behavior in the gauze-thin guise of arbitrating coolness? I have last Sunday’s Chicago Tribune Magazine in front of me, with its six pages of Hots and Nots.
In the first category, the pairings more or less report what’s out there: “fitted little jackets” and Jake Gyllenhall are HOT, “oversized boyfriend jackets” and Josh Hartnett are NOT. This boils down to the media reporting on media-generated buzz, but it’s the kind of stuff one reads these lists for, and is fair enough.
In the second category, you can pretty much see the fashion industry’s lips moving as the features writers pronounce, “HOT: The fitted trench with a twist (like a grape purple Burberry); NOT: Plain beige.”
But it’s the third category–more Goofus and Gallant than Out and In–that kills me. It’s so priggish and Miss Manners, except that Miss Manners is doing her job, while hot lists are pretending to be something quite different. Much as I can’t argue with a lot of the implicit social and moral instruction dispensed in this category, it’s hard not to snicker at the attempt to soft-sell it as good taste, or all the rage. I have lots of examples from the Tribune, both because they are so plentiful and because they are so risible:
HOT: Making out at the bar
NOT: Going home with someone from the bar
Yep, don’t not go home with that stranger because it wouldn’t be prudent; don’t do it because it wouldn’t be hot.
HOT: Introducing friends to one another (www.friendster.com)
NOT: Keeping friends to yourself
Selfishness: so last year!
HOT: Docs who incorporate alternative medicine
NOT: Docs who have no clue
This one doesn’t really have the courage of its convictions, since if you’re just incorporating your alternative medicine into your conventional medicine, it’s not really an alternative, is it? But you have to be impressed by the bold stand against clueless doctors (if less so by the implication that conventional methods make them so). Maybe 2005 will be their year.
But here’s my favorite:
HOT: Judging for yourself
NOT: Critics’ reviews of films, books
This appears to be the silliest reverberation to date of the manufactured discontentment that is the Believer magazine’s police blotter, Snarkwatch, where you can write in to pillory critics you disagree with. What started as a (in my opinion, dubious and thin-skinned) manifesto against dismissively clever book reviewing has now devolved into the soundbite “critics not hot.” I think it’s safe to say that the hunt for snark has jumped the shark.