Reports from last night’s NBCC are trickling in, with perhaps the most comprehensive one to be found at Galleycat. Add Daniel Mendelsohn to the roster of elitist fogies who just don’t get it. From Ron Hogan’s report:
As he accepted the autobiography award for The Lost, Daniel Mendelsohn said that he was especially proud to get this prize “in an era in which every who owns a Dell laptop is a published critic,” while the NBCC prize comes from “people who know what they’re talking about.” Well, as one of the great electronic unwashed, to heck with you, and you’re still completely wrong about Peanuts. OK, fine, we kid because we love and all that, but perhaps the remark rankled more because of NBCC president John Freeman’s defensive opening remarks about how “book reviews are the gateway to our culture,” aimed at establishing the continuing relevance of book reviewers in an age when bloggers are attracting more and more of the readers who do, in fact, crave good information about books and writers about which they might well like to know more. This is especially ironic, given that the NBCC board of directors now has two members, Lizzie Skurnick and Jessa Crispin, who are as “famous” if not more so for their online writing as for whatever they’ve done in print. The debate continues…
UPDATE: Daniel Mendelsohn has clarified his comments at Galleycat, writing, “The obvious meaning of my comment, made in the context of accepting an award from my fellow professional book critics, was that it is an honor to have the high esteem of one’s fellow professionals—writers whose published opinions of books, unlike those of random online commentators, are necessarily subject to many stages of vetting, editing, proofing, and above all editorial evaluation by people knowledgeable in the field of literature, and which are therefore more likely, broadly speaking, to be ‘expert’: which is, as far as I’m concerned, the kind of opinion that is meaningful.”
I’m happy that Mendelsohn has expressed himself more thoroughly, but I still think that he might want to bop around the blogosphere a bit more before making such a charge. I agree with him that having a laptop does not necessarily make one a reviewer or a reporter. But while I’m not really the kind of guy inclined to toot his own horn, the roundtable discussions featured on this site (as well as the Litblog Co-Op) have, in fact, involved organizing people who are qualified to comment upon the books they read (in that they actually read the book from start to finish, a task that eludes such “experts” as Malcolm Jones), fixing grammar, playing doubting Thomas, and encouraging alternative lines of argument. The Bat Segundo podcasts involve at least ten hours of reading and preliminary research for each guest, and often many more. Whether any of this is sufficiently “expert” is, of course, subject to your interpretation. I’ve never professed to be a literary “expert,” but I do try to initiate thought and conversations that don’t appear to be practiced by the “experts” who fail to read the books of the authors they interview or review.
The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of Here They Come and Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (
Well, since you kid, I’ll kid too:
All things being equal, I’d rather know a lot about culture and not as much about online culture. And, at 46, I wouldn’t exactly classify my brother as a “fogie.”
Cheers,
Matt Mendelsohn
All things being equal, I’d rather know a lot about culture, period, wherever it may be found. Blowhards abound in print and online, and fogeys abound in every generation set, old and young. Mendelsohn deserved to win, but his comment was ill-advised and misinformed.
Blowhards may abound, but so does hyperbole. Phrases like “blowhard” and “clueless” don’t exactly add a lot to the debate. You can parse as you like, but I think you’re creating conspiracy here where none exists. It was clear that Daniel’s funny acceptance speech, and particularly his opening remark, was not intended as an indictment of serious literary blogs (both yours and Edward’s are quite impressive) but rather the Amazon-type reviewer who writes that Dr. Zhivago is “soooooo depressing” and thinks he’s ready for the NYTBR.
As someone who is quite devoted to books, I’m sure that you’re quite aware of the peril of reading too much into something. It was just a joke.
Again, regards,
Matt Mendelsohn
I’m never quite happy with the excuse ‘it’s just a joke’. Jokes often indicate underlying attitudes and additionally can function to create a sense of ingroup moral superiority.
I’d hazard a guess that Mendelsohn wouldn’t care to make an ethnic joke, for example, in such company.
That said, I agree, however, that there is a lot of lame commentary online. Whether it passes for literary criticism (or even intends to) is another matter.