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March 17, 2007

Blog Reflux

I'd have to be living under a proverbial rock to miss the n+1/litblogger controversy. Which, as far as I'm concerned, is an embarrassment to the entire litblogging community.

After Garth Risk Hallberg's response to n+1's article hit The Millions, I tried to acquire a copy in order to see what all the fuss was about. Unfortunately, the stretch of highway I happened to be on only allowed access to a Barnes & Noble and Borders, the two worst places to find literary magazines not called The Paris Review or Glimmer Train.

At B&N, I reluctantly slinked over to the information desk when I couldn't find n+1 in the magazine racks. I still hold a small grudge against this particular store because of the time an employee sniggered at my book choices. Information called over the magazine manager, and he looked at me like I had two heads when I asked for n+1. If I can help it, I will never go to this store again.

I didn't even bother asking for help at Borders because their magazine selection was thin overall, no one was at the information desk, and no employees were walking around. In a retail store, I should not have to hunt down an employee. Their livelihood depends on customers, so they ought to be eager to help everyone inside spend money.

As a result, I haven't read "The Blog Reflex" and cannot comment on it. However, I have read The New York Inquirer's interview with Keith Gessen (here). And all the litblogger posts and comments at The Millions (here, here, and here), The Elegant Variation (here), and Return of the Reluctant (here, here, here, and here). And the group discussions at Long Sunday (here) and The Valve (here and here).

The ones who come out looking bad, due to unnecessary roughness, are the litbloggers. To make matters worse, this small, petty argument is being mislabeled as "n+1 vs. litbloggers" in many places. A few rash complainers do not comprise the whole of a community even if they are often cited as the representative sample. Popularity also does not necessarily signify quality. Though, as a fellow litblogger, I am embarrassed for all of us.



comments

There's an awful lot of hate in the litblog world as it is. The Elegant Variation hates Steve Almond. Return of the Reluctant hates Sam Tanenhaus. I check out a lot of these blogs because they do a good job of rounding up news items that I find interesting but I really don't like all the hate. So much of it is personal.

If you hate someone's work, fine. Don't let it spill onto the person. If someone hates your work, fine. Don't take it as judgment against you as a person. It's when the reviewers/bloggers get snarky and say things like, "Stop this person before they write again" and the writers go all "Well, you suck and so does your family..." that I get sick.

I know I come off all Pollyanna and "why can't we all just get along" but, seriously, it's bad enough we're mean to each other in person. Do we need to pollute cyberspace too?

To clarify, I don't hate Sam Tanenhaus and have even praised him on occasion. But then it's easy to demonize when you have merely a snapshot.

Also, marydell, what the hell are you doing commenting upon this nonsense with more nonsense? Don't you realize that this rivalry is the exclusive province of the male litbloggers? I agree. You're not part of the argument. And you WON'T represent a substantial part until you put on a strap-on and perhaps get a testosterone injection. It's all about dick wars. It's all about the boys. And your failure to read "The Blog Reflex" and remark upon it clearly demonstrates how, well, "female" you are.

Of course, the ridiculous assertions above stand, because I'm counting upon you, marydell, to woefully misinterpret the irony within the second paragraph, just as you've misinterpreted about 65% of everything I've ever written. Salut!

Brian, there certainly is a lot of hate on the Internet. I'm guilty of it myself, considering how I've recently been hating on Dave Eggers. From what I've seen, most litbloggers feel passion for what they read and write about, so it's not surprising that emotions get thrown into the mix.

We do, and often unjustly, confuse the work with the person. Yet, the act writing is a personal endeavor. As you create pieces for your MFA, I am sure you have poured your own blood, sweat, tears, experiences, beliefs, values, etc. into your work. Reading, too, is a personal endeavor. As I read, I often think about how a particular book relates to my own life, experiences, beliefs, values, etc. If I disagree with an author's position, I could easily become bewildered, hurt, or angry.

Weblogs have evolved into outlets of personal expression. After all, "the rant" is a device employed by many, many of them. If someone feels angry, a blog is an easy place to release that emotion. In my own experience, I generally feel better soon after posting angry thoughts and I find it easier to rant than rave. Although it does mean a lot of vitriol ends up polluting the blogosphere, I think it's generally a good thing for people to have a place to vent rather than bottle up their negative emotions.

Ed, thank you for sharing. I'd actually up your estimate and say that I do not understand the intent of at least 80% of everything you've ever written. And you're right, the irony of your comment isn't readily apparent to me. My first thought is this: hurling insults, ridiculous as they may be, under the guise of irony is not ironic.

However, rather than be rash, I will mull on your words as I go about my day. After gathering my thoughts, I will compose a suitable response on whether or not the irony of your remarks presents itself.

I had a look at some of the links you supply, Marydell, but don't really get what the argument is all about, so I'd better keep out of it.
I keep on getting into arguments on blogs however hard I try to stay out. I am currently having about three parallel arguments (on my own blog, on John Baker and on Reading Matters) about this "thinking bloggers award". The argument just came out of left field, I don't really know how I fell into it. I should have let a couple of posts on other people's posts on their blogs go, I know that, but they annoyed me and I just couldn't. Will I learn? Will these n+1 arguers learn? Probably not, as blogging is too instantaneous a medium.

I think you are quite a shining example of restraint, though, Marydell -- well done to you! I will try to learn from you.

Ed, as I promised, I have thought about your comment rather than be quick to declare you an insulting boor.

First of all, it is quite easy for Brian and other readers to think you hate Sam Tanenhaus. You devote a considerable number of posts to mocking his abilities as an editor. Yet, when you do point out the virtues of the NYTBR, you append your praise with another insult or express utter surprise.

Irony, simply put, is the incongruence between literal meaning and implied meaning. If I read your second paragraph literally, it should come as no surprise that I would feel insulted. If I read it employing ironic intent as a filter, I should not feel insulted because your implied message is that the argument between n+1 and litbloggers amounts to nothing more than masculine posturing. Aha.

But, pray tell, what am I to think of the third paragraph? Your statement, "the ridiculous assertions above stand, because I'm counting upon you, marydell, to woefully misinterpret the irony," cancels out any implied meaning in the preceding paragraph. Therefore, I should feel insulted.

As a result, I must return to my initial take on your comment and conclude that you, Ed, possess a faulty understanding of irony. To wit, hurling insults under the guise of irony is not ironic.

To provide you with another example, I refer you to your recent post: "n+1: Making Michael Stipe Look Like Idi Amin, One Ridiculous Group Shot at a Time." Your supposed attempt at irony went over like a lead brick, forcing you to do damage control on your own site, The Elegant Variation, and the Valve.

When readers misinterpret the intent of a writer, it should not always be assumed that the fault lies with the reader. The fault could just as easily be in the conveyance of the message. As a result, might I suggest that you scrap irony as a literary device until you have a better grasp of it? In my opinion, as a reader of your blog, you do much better with satire.

Maxine, you are too kind. Although I may be able restrain myself from lashing out too quickly, I am not above being argumentative.

I did see a bit of a scuffle go on about the "thinking blogger award," but I didn't realize you were involved so I took another look at each thread. Like the n+1 controversy, the culprit is likely the immediacy of blogging. However, I do have to agree with your position. Here are some people trying compliment the blogs they like, but the killjoys swoop in and ruin the good intentions. Sigh. You can't even say nice things without someone "exposing" nefarious motives.

If you say that you do not understand 80% of what I have written, are you sufficiently knowledgeable to remark upon my writing?

Let us consider Socratic irony, perhaps best represented in the baser elements by the likes of Punch and Judy and the Three Stooges, both of which involve hurling insults and violence under the guise of irony, causing enjoyment for those who don't possess as a literal approach as you seem to have for humor. That's fine. Different strokes for different folks. Which is really what this all amounts to.

Now in your classical representation of Socratic irony, one feigns ignorance to elucidate a larger point: in this case, your failure to understand the underlying sense of play and your literal but not figurative interpretation of the absurdity behind this so-called n+1 vs. litbloggers war, epitomized by the war being the "exclusive province of the male litbloggers," suggesting that women aren't entitled to join. But no matter. In this case, I am using terms remarkably hostile and ignorant, along the lines of Punch & Judy, et al., telling you that my "views" are remarkably hostile and ignorant by my sentence in the third paragraph. (What part of "ridiculous assertions" did you not understand?) Therefore, there is an undeniable implied meaning and a literal meaning.

Now you take "counting upon you" as an absolute. But I take it as a gray area: ergo, something in line with the absolutism that has caused this nonsense in the first place. Your fault here is finding absolutism in the implied meaning in the third paragraph, but this says more about your own perception of yourself. For I was not the one to cast down an assertion. You were. You assume by "counting upon you" that I have formed a conclusion on your failure to detect this relative irony, when, at the time I had posted the above statement, I had not. It was a playful hunch, and I figured you'd be smart enough to spot the flagrant idiom. The only thing here that IS absolute is the fact that you have misinterpreted 65% (or, by your estimate, 80%) of my writing, which I apparently underestimated.

As for the other examples you mentioned, I have already claimed my failure with the ironic intent of the photo, in large part because I failed to impute the implied meaning. Fair enough. It happens. But surprise is, of course, an elementary form of hyperbole, similar to Renault in CASABLANCA declaring, "I am shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on here."

While I'm glad you exercise restraint, as Maxine has observed, as you are simultaneously puzzled, it is clear to me that you are incapable to discern the kind of garden-variety feigned ribbing regularly in practice among comedians during the past century or so. Or are you aware of roasts?

I realize that this is a lot to jam-pack into a comment or even a post. But I do this because I don't believe my audience is stupid. And most of my readers seem to understand this without exegesis.

To further clarify my previous point, "counting upon you" was not the phrase I took as an absolute, even though I believe you meant it absolutely. Rather, I focused on "the ridiculous assertions above stand" as the means by which you canceled out any possible irony in your comment.

"If you say that you do not understand 80% of what I have written, are you sufficiently knowledgeable to remark upon my writing?"

Yes, because I never said the above. Actually, I wrote, "I do not understand the intent of at least 80% of everything you've ever written." Emphasis has been added to stress the key phrase. I understand what you've written. Every word. It's the purpose—implied meaning, ultimate message, whatever—of much of your writing that I don't understand. Although I am sure your intent is clear in your head, I must concur with n+1's J.D. Daniels's allegation of sloppy writing.

Um, not to make you look foolish by pointing out yet again that you do not understand irony, but none of the examples you provide illustrate Socratic irony. Rather, I believe you mean sardonic irony, in which scornful language is employed to imply the opposite meaning of the words used.

Now, here's the thing. Your mentions of Punch & Judy, the Three Stooges, and comic roasts are all excellent examples of sardonic irony. However, the very reason why they are ironic is because the audience knows that a profound connection, friendship, and/or respect exists among the players. Since, according to my observations, you have never expressed any of the underlying criteria towards me, "roasting" me does not come across as being playful. Therefore, being on the receiving end of such remarks as "slattern" on MetaxuCafe or your above failed attempt at irony feels insulting and hurtful.

To make things perfectly clear, I do not dislike you, Ed. I enjoy your site quite a bit and will continue to be a reader. Yet, I must persist in concluding that you possess a flawed understanding of irony. I must also point out that this exchange amuses me because it is actually riddled with irony. And the irony is...you don't see it.

Oh, that Ed. He cracks me up.

Agreed, Isabella. He makes me laugh, too.

 

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