I think you've put your finger on a number of interesting questions, one's I'm actually wrestling with further for a future newsletter (maybe this weekend), so consider these thoughts somewhat provisional.
> "1) I don't read that way -- I read online, on my phone, or by purchasing books: that literary journals are falling off is not surpr…
I think you've put your finger on a number of interesting questions, one's I'm actually wrestling with further for a future newsletter (maybe this weekend), so consider these thoughts somewhat provisional.
> "1) I don't read that way -- I read online, on my phone, or by purchasing books: that literary journals are falling off is not surprising and doesn't feel like a huge loss in my life"
Mediums evolve over time, but print has been pretty stubborn in its persistence and I think will continue to stick around because it offers some advantages over digital texts. Lincoln Michel at his substance has a post where he talks about the latest issue of McSweeney's Quarterly and how beautifully designed it is. I will read some, but not all, of this edition but even if I didn't read any of it, I'm glad it exists because it's beautiful, because it looks like a lot of people put time and effort into bringing it into the world and I like a world where some people are dedicated to these things.
I reminds me of what I experience at the semi-pro/nonprofit theater I sometimes go to in the Western North Carolina mountains. The productions are filled with energy and enthusiasm and some talent, but no one would confuse them for professional theater in a place like New York or Chicago. They survive because there's a sufficient number of patrons who pay much more than market prices to see these shows because they want this work to exist in their local community.
">2) better alternatives exist, like Substack or social media, where writers can directly interface with their audience and direct them to their writing a.k.a. every writer is their own literary journal"
This is one of the threads I'm thinking about for the next newsletter, but you have to define "better." For sure, there's advantages for some who are prolific, who like to network and self-promote. Who write the kinds of things that garner attention online, etc...
But hat if you don't want to be your own literary journal? One of the functions of those journals is to be an imprimatur of quality that elevates the people they publish. This comes with the downsides of gatekeeping, but in a universe without gates, how will anyone ever find entry into your work?
And what if you want to be able to criticize the owners of the platform for elevating the work of a racist white supremacist, but worry that they have some behind the scenes power to choke off your audience? It's not just one publication you may be alienating, but the actual people who hold the keys to the kingdom. What happens if Substack goes belly-up? It is not profitable (as far as we know yet). Imagine rather than a diversified universe of places to publish, we all wind up here, and here suddenly doesn't exist?
">3) there doesn't seem to be a huge correlation today between publishing in literary journals -> becoming the 10% of financially comfortable writers."
There probably never was, TBH. There's a really interesting article about what became known as "literary fiction" by Dan Synkin that I'll be referencing in the next newsletter that makes some astute points about that. That lane may have existed, but was never that wide. Now, it just doesn't exit.
">4) literary journals represent a past where art must be curated and selected by people who "know better," thus giving them power, whereas today the "consumer" decides what it is beautiful and interacts with that directly"
This is a fallacy of the illusion of infinite choice. The truth is as individuals we don't have the capacity to sort through the array of choices and make optimum decisions about anything, including what is beautiful. We rely on all kinds of context and cues independent of the thing itself to help ourselves out. An editor at a journal is simply one mechanism of that kind, not necessarily better or worse than others, except that they may have some knowledge and insight gleaned from experience, or you may find someone whose sensibility matches yours and whom you come to trust.
There are, again, downsides to that structure. It can feel clubby or exclusive, like you've got to know somebody to get a fair shake, and for sure, connections help. I've seen that first hand. It would be a mistake to hold that system up as some kind of meritocracy because it isn't.
You strike me as a bit of a libertarian type (philosophically, not necessarily politically), and I have my own tendencies that way, but we can't pretend that platforms like this are any more open and predicated on merit than any other. All of the advantages at play in getting a high profile gig at the New Yorker would also work to one's advantage here.
">Finally, you mention Fosse as an shining example of government support. But what I read in that section was another description of one of those 10% writers. How are other, lesser known writers in Norway fairing, I wonder? (And any comparison here is undercut by the dramatic difference in size and government as compared to the US)."
In Norway, more than 10% of writers get to make a decent life pursuing the art because they've set things up so there is public support for these activities (and many others) independent of the market. Over time, some of these people will also see success in the market (something like 60% of Norwegians have read a Karl One Knausgaard book), but that success is not necessary to keep pursuing one's art. This also has an obvious effect on the kind and range of art that gets created. It gives artists the space and time necessary to explore and develop without sinking or swimming according to the market.
The state of literature is more than what gets bought and sold (or even read). It's what people do, how they do it, the activities that underpin the creation of literature, not just the end object and whether or not it is purchased. Declaring that anything that can't turn a profit is not worthy of continuing would leave us in a very impoverished cultural space with a decided lack of innovation and dynamism that allows for those breakthroughs to mass attention to happen.
I think you've put your finger on a number of interesting questions, one's I'm actually wrestling with further for a future newsletter (maybe this weekend), so consider these thoughts somewhat provisional.
> "1) I don't read that way -- I read online, on my phone, or by purchasing books: that literary journals are falling off is not surprising and doesn't feel like a huge loss in my life"
Mediums evolve over time, but print has been pretty stubborn in its persistence and I think will continue to stick around because it offers some advantages over digital texts. Lincoln Michel at his substance has a post where he talks about the latest issue of McSweeney's Quarterly and how beautifully designed it is. I will read some, but not all, of this edition but even if I didn't read any of it, I'm glad it exists because it's beautiful, because it looks like a lot of people put time and effort into bringing it into the world and I like a world where some people are dedicated to these things.
I reminds me of what I experience at the semi-pro/nonprofit theater I sometimes go to in the Western North Carolina mountains. The productions are filled with energy and enthusiasm and some talent, but no one would confuse them for professional theater in a place like New York or Chicago. They survive because there's a sufficient number of patrons who pay much more than market prices to see these shows because they want this work to exist in their local community.
">2) better alternatives exist, like Substack or social media, where writers can directly interface with their audience and direct them to their writing a.k.a. every writer is their own literary journal"
This is one of the threads I'm thinking about for the next newsletter, but you have to define "better." For sure, there's advantages for some who are prolific, who like to network and self-promote. Who write the kinds of things that garner attention online, etc...
But hat if you don't want to be your own literary journal? One of the functions of those journals is to be an imprimatur of quality that elevates the people they publish. This comes with the downsides of gatekeeping, but in a universe without gates, how will anyone ever find entry into your work?
And what if you want to be able to criticize the owners of the platform for elevating the work of a racist white supremacist, but worry that they have some behind the scenes power to choke off your audience? It's not just one publication you may be alienating, but the actual people who hold the keys to the kingdom. What happens if Substack goes belly-up? It is not profitable (as far as we know yet). Imagine rather than a diversified universe of places to publish, we all wind up here, and here suddenly doesn't exist?
">3) there doesn't seem to be a huge correlation today between publishing in literary journals -> becoming the 10% of financially comfortable writers."
There probably never was, TBH. There's a really interesting article about what became known as "literary fiction" by Dan Synkin that I'll be referencing in the next newsletter that makes some astute points about that. That lane may have existed, but was never that wide. Now, it just doesn't exit.
">4) literary journals represent a past where art must be curated and selected by people who "know better," thus giving them power, whereas today the "consumer" decides what it is beautiful and interacts with that directly"
This is a fallacy of the illusion of infinite choice. The truth is as individuals we don't have the capacity to sort through the array of choices and make optimum decisions about anything, including what is beautiful. We rely on all kinds of context and cues independent of the thing itself to help ourselves out. An editor at a journal is simply one mechanism of that kind, not necessarily better or worse than others, except that they may have some knowledge and insight gleaned from experience, or you may find someone whose sensibility matches yours and whom you come to trust.
There are, again, downsides to that structure. It can feel clubby or exclusive, like you've got to know somebody to get a fair shake, and for sure, connections help. I've seen that first hand. It would be a mistake to hold that system up as some kind of meritocracy because it isn't.
You strike me as a bit of a libertarian type (philosophically, not necessarily politically), and I have my own tendencies that way, but we can't pretend that platforms like this are any more open and predicated on merit than any other. All of the advantages at play in getting a high profile gig at the New Yorker would also work to one's advantage here.
">Finally, you mention Fosse as an shining example of government support. But what I read in that section was another description of one of those 10% writers. How are other, lesser known writers in Norway fairing, I wonder? (And any comparison here is undercut by the dramatic difference in size and government as compared to the US)."
In Norway, more than 10% of writers get to make a decent life pursuing the art because they've set things up so there is public support for these activities (and many others) independent of the market. Over time, some of these people will also see success in the market (something like 60% of Norwegians have read a Karl One Knausgaard book), but that success is not necessary to keep pursuing one's art. This also has an obvious effect on the kind and range of art that gets created. It gives artists the space and time necessary to explore and develop without sinking or swimming according to the market.
The state of literature is more than what gets bought and sold (or even read). It's what people do, how they do it, the activities that underpin the creation of literature, not just the end object and whether or not it is purchased. Declaring that anything that can't turn a profit is not worthy of continuing would leave us in a very impoverished cultural space with a decided lack of innovation and dynamism that allows for those breakthroughs to mass attention to happen.