During n+1's "The Blog Reflex" controversy, I wrote a post stating that I tried to obtain a copy of the magazine in order to find out what all the fuss was about. Although a few litbloggers were frothing at the mouth, I didn't want to comment on the article's content, since I rarely make judgements based on hearsay. I visited several bookstores to no avail, and was pleasantly surprised to receive an email from n+1's subscriptions director with an offer of a copy. Last weekend, I finally found the time to go through it and pay special care to "The Intellectual Situation" (the entire piece) and "The Blog Reflex" (a subheading).

As I waited for my copy, Literary Kicks offered this assessment:

Here's a surprise: the tirade against literary bloggers that all the fuss was about is a humor piece. And quite a good one, actually. It's called The Intellectual Situation, and it contains calibrated tirades against email culture and cell phone culture ("Whatever Minutes") as well as blogs. What didn't come across in the quoted discussions about this piece is that the anonymous authors are partially mocking themselves. It's a cranky humor act -- "see how retro we are". I've heard the same routine in bars and restaurants many times, actually, so maybe the piece isn't as original as all that, but there are a few very funny lines.

He's absolutely right. It is a humor piece that also partially offers a somewhat self-deprecating take on its unnamed author, who reminisces about a time before technology became the standard mode through which we communicate. According to the nostalgic narrator, "What's odd about so many modern technological improvements is that they are achievements of human liberation in their emergency uses, and they decivilize in their daily use" (p. 9). In longing for the old ways, the narrator mentions savages (pre-technology) and barbarians (post-technology) and wonders if we are nothing more than a bunch of barbarians sacking civilization, armed with cell phones and computers.

The article's main idea focuses on how today's methods of communication are decivilizing society. With technology, correspondence moves at the lightening speed of bits and bytes via email, cellphones, blogs, and computers. However, thought—or the history of thought, at least— moves slowly. Email, as a nearly instantaneous medium, requires some speed. Take too long to reply and the original message could go stale; be too rash with choosing your words and your tone could offend. (And, boy, do I know this. I am both a tardy responder and frequent offender.) Public cell phone use by many compels others to also use their cell phones in public lest it be thought that they have no one tell what they are doing right now. The computer, a work machine, is also a recreational machine. Although the activity n+1 uses in its example is porn (My guess is shock value, but they may have been channeling Avenue Q.), the point is that the computer has become a paradox. It is both the way to work and goof off from work.

And then there are the blogs. Drawing a parallel to the Speaker's Corner revolutionary on a soapbox, the narrator eventually concludes: "So much typing, so little communication...It's incredible" (p. 7). Before reading the article, I assumed that it spent all of its effort disparaging litblogs because of the hyperbolic reaction by some litbloggers. On the contrary, the charge is a generalization against the millions upon millions of blogs out there. Lit- and news blogs are simply used as examples of the failure of the medium, which is also a paradox. News blogs sprung up as an alternative to mainstream media, but capital brought them into the very same mainstream they intended to criticize. Blogs were supposed to be the voice of the people, but the people are increasingly being silenced by dollars.

According the the article, the litblog is both an "accident waiting to happen to bloggers" and "the avant-garde of 21st-century publicity" (p. 6). For the former phrase, litblogs should contribute to serious criticism of literature but do not do this often enough because of the conversational tone of the medium. As for the latter, they should be an alternative to mainstream reviews but they sacrifice their independent voices for free books and clicks. If I think about ALL the blogs I have read mentioning literature (litblog, news blog, personal blog, whatever) and generalize, I can't disagree with either of these statements. Sturgeon's Law most certainly applies to blogging, literary or otherwise.

Over at The Reading Experience, Dan Green has written a thoughtful response to the article in terms of how its allegations applies to his site and those belonging to the uber-litbloggers. The Literary Saloon, in response to a statement by n+1's Keith Gessen, objects to being "tarred by one big brush" and goes on record to assert that they "rarely call people assholes." Both "The Blog Reflex" and Gessen's statements are generalities. But both counterpoints respond with inward specifics. Perhaps there is some merit to the article's idea that "lit-bloggers [have] become a self-sustaining community, minutemen ready to rise up in defense of their niches" (p. 7), but, frankly, I don't see how this is a bad thing.

At the conclusion of "The Blog Reflex" lies another paradox. Our nostalgic n+1 narrator bases some assumptions on the idea that no one reads litblogs.

A bottomless labor market exists in which the free activity of the mind gets bartered away for something even less nourishing than a bowl of porridge. And you can't dine off your inflated self-respect and popularity—not unless you get enough hits to sell advertising (p. 7).

So, let me get this straight. Litbloggers have sold their souls for a pittance? And we do this for self-respect and popularity because most of us do not get many hits? If we were to get enough hits to sell advertising, would we turn out like the news bloggers? And at that point, would we no longer be the voice of the independent critic but part of the mainstream capitalist machine? Oh, wait, aren't we already not independent because we've been bought for the price of a book (or in the case of this post, a free literary magazine)?

Rather than spin into a frenzy over the above, I'm going to go the blog route and counter a generalization with some navel-gazing. Because I do sell advertising, I know my own traffic very well. What's n+1's circulation? 5,000? 10,000? 20,000 readers each year? Such numbers, compared to the reach of BookBlog and many others, are the pittance, dear blogging friends. As a result, I see no need to get all worked up over a bit of criticism from down below.