Does length matter (in fiction)? On Counter Craft, Lincoln Michel asks what determines the length of novels, noting that art cannot be free of economics under capitalism.
On Book Post, editor Ann Kjellberg offers a crash course in book publishing consolidations, fronted by the HarperCollins deal to buy “the runner-up to publishing’s Big Five” Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. The ongoing consolidations have seen the industry shrink to an ever smaller pool of publishers over the years, but to Kjellberg, it’s not so much about the possibility of books getting more expensive, but rather “the venues for people who want to challenge the mainstream ideas” that are ever more shrinking. In this environment, acquisition decisions are based on the expectation of big returns.
Kjellberg poses a critical question: what happens when people who have the money to buy or merge a particular imprint or legacy, but do not possess the vision for the work of literature? Not only will this trend towards smashing publishing houses together will result in lower earnings for authors, it will also squeeze people out from publishing jobs - an already, in the UK at least, almost exclusively middle class milieu.
She goes further than most to consider readers. Hardcovers at a discount in large retailers certainly bring books to the wider public. But as an audience, they’re unlikely to drive acquisition and marketing decisions. The editor poses interesting questions: how do these discounts affect publishers’ margins and authors’ earnings? And consequently, how does that affect what books are published and promoted?
And what of small presses? From House of Vlad’s Body High to Short Flight/Long Drive Books’ Nudes, they’re bringing beautiful work to the world that’s often paid little attention to. Is it time we shifted the conversation?
Writing for The New Republic, Alex Shephard has given voice to The Philip Roth Society. The machiavelli of literature, Andrew Wylie of the Wylie Agency, along with Roth’s former girlfriend/friend Julia Golier had been instructed by the author to destroy personal papers post publication of the recently published and pulled biography penned by Blake Bailey. Shephard believes that making his papers available is now critical in preserving his legacy, which has been battered over the years and in light of recent events has received further blows. The deal between Bailey and Roth’s estate, both of whom have the copyright to the biography, is emblematic of the ever increasing power of the publicity industrial complex and calls into question the book’s integrity and the extent of its accuracy in depicting Roth. “The planned scope of the Roth Estate’s destruction is also not clear,” writes Shephard, noting it is not known what the process entails and what material it will affect.
Daddy Dyer has a new book out, his third on photography. See/Saw: Looking at Photographs 2010-2020 comprises previously published pieces, including those from his New Republic series. In his Irish Times interview with Liam Cagney, Dyer reflects on his influence on younger writers [specifically for his ability to write between fiction and non-fiction, novel and essay, books that do away with boundaries and escape easy categorisation], including Rob Doyle (who took him to KitKat at some point, which…I’d like to read about). “Very pleased to be an influence on young Rob Doyle,” he remarks, “as long as it doesn’t get to the point where, you know, I’m completely forgotten about, and it’s all just him! A situation I know he’s all the time lobbying for.”
Rob “still drawn to Berlin’s famously decadent side” Doyle spoke to the Irish Independent about his “radical unhappiness” as a young man, his doubts over his capacity as a writer prior to being published and the screen adaptation of his debut Here Are The Young Men.
Mirroring earlier interviews, he says that by the time Here Are The Young Men had been published he was already over it, having departed from that book as a writer and as a person and being interested in “different structures, different ideas.” So far removed is the book from the author’s current state of mind that it feels like being in the presence of a different life.
Doyle wrote a draft for the screen adaptation, which didn’t get used in the end. Some scenes are exactly as he pictured them when writing the book, others not so much, but he believes the film to be loyal to the book as far as tone and core themes are concerned. He recognises himself in the adaption, but balances that out by saying he wouldn’t write a book of this sort now, seeing it as a rite of passage: “I recognise it as the pure and successful expression of the sicknesses I was trying to get out of my own psyche at that stage of my life.” By exorcising these, he was able to advance as an artist.
The Independent states that Doyle has a forthcoming non-fiction book, Autobibliography, due in the autumn, so I guess there’s a new book to obsess over.
The Drunken Canal got its first adversary in the form of new zine The Sober Canal. If I termed The Drunken Canal as the counterculture to traditional media a few months back it seems the NYC downtown scene has been rocked on its foundations and now Drunken is the establishment while a new counter-cultural force has arrived on Dimes Square in response to the widely shared NYT article penned by Ben Smith.
Reporter Eliza Wallace has the scoop over at Study Hall (you know she’s on the right side of history for calling Bachelorette “criminally underrated” as per all of Kirsten’s oeuvre). Unlike The Drunken Canal, the Sober broadsheet is helmed by anonymous creators who work in “the cultural sector” and have taken issue with the Drunken crew’s coverage in the city’s preeminent newspaper (soz, Post!), citing the triad of class, race and health as issues that have been utterly left out while the emerging downtown media entrants have been gaining attention.
Wallace is one hell of an entertaining writer and her scene report is insightful and thoughtful. I don’t want to spoil neither her exploration of the scene nor her careful analysis of what makes a scene to begin with and deep dive into the origins of so-called Dimes Square. She has an interesting viewpoint on the “politics of friendship” within the creative and cultural milieus of downtown NYC (which honestly apply everywhere in the world) and how the Civilisation map, together with the distorting power of social media, inevitably can only ever be bad and inspire some pretty bad impulses. “The scene, represented by Drunken, must answer to itself, represented by Sober, for its crimes,” she writes.
Perhaps the Drunken (over)exposure could only ever end with a backlash. But when it comes to the zeitgeisty feud Wallace is certain of one thing: “No one, and I cannot emphasise this enough, cares.” She’s genuinely funny (“experimental lit freaks and sad boys with critical theory hard-ons”), but the careful sentiments expressed at the end of her scene report reveal a genuine sincerity of intent (as far as my interpretation goes): there’s enough toxicity on and offline and all parties involved have chosen not to connect but to critique. We should all strive to opt for the former, not the latter.
Sean “people should feel more shame and have less fun” Tatol spoke to The Sober Canal on Montez Press Radio. It’s a fascinating discussion, spanning Tatol’s trajectory to founding The Manhattan Art Review and its influence on The Sober Canal, the state of criticism in art media, the “romantic belief” in art and why you don’t learn all that much by partying. The Haters Ball sees The Manhattan Art Review Editor declare art criticism (in New York) as virtually non-existent and “almost all cultural media stupid.” He sees the lack of “discourse” [in the sense of criticism] in major need of a revival. “It’s difficult to even tell what’s good or bad,” he says in reference to people working in the art sector, whose capacities for critical thought he considers depleted. The Sober Canal finds his criticism very balanced, while art magazine publishing inherently tainted by advertising. They have “more faith” in criticism from non-art publications: “We’re not fully sober at The Sober Canal.”
Previously in disliking the internet:
Still, it’s hard to believe they couldn’t come up with something more insightful than the questions for Chris Power’s interview.
The Hermitage Museum has been hit with an official complaint about the bad influence nude sculptures have on kids. The Virgin Revenge incident was reported in RT. To quote Chris Hayes out of context, “I have no idea who these people are.”
And the hits just keep on coming for battered Russia, as Ukrainian Minister of Culture has accused the Federation of “stealing” Ukrainian-born Gogol (known to Ukrainians as “Hohol” lol). Writing for RT, Jonny Tickle says: “Gogol’s own thoughts seriously clashed with the ideas of the Ukrainian nationalism, which is why he’s never been widely celebrated by officials in modern-day Ukraine.”
If his Expat Press interview is anything to go by, Dennis Cooper is a positive person. He doesn’t dwell on the past and comes across as detached from “bad things” that happened when he was young. “The positive things that happened,” he says, referencing drugs and engagement with and immersion to different art forms, “had a much greater impact on the future me.” He seems resolute in his statement that the past is simply a distant memory, a springboard he uses as a jumping off point to write.
In a bid to separate the upcoming I WISHED from the earlier George Miles Cycle, Cooper says that spending this time with his memories is unusual. He insists this isn’t a memoir or in any way an autobiographical work. This is his Ultraviolence. “I felt less like I had to chronicle my journeys and more like I could just recount snippets in my past that felt exhilarating to me,” said Lana Del Rey during the album’s promotion cycle.
Unlike Doyle, the writing of I Wished wasn’t an attempt at exorcism for Cooper. He sees it as “the result of a battle between my emotions and my highly aestheticising side.” He refers to it as his most emotional work to date, but much like his other books, it is the result of intense experimentation. He dismisses the idea that it shows his vulnerable side and considers “the real Dennis” interpretation reductive. “My work has never been about revealing me as a person,” he says. “I’ve never hidden myself in my books. The novels are not me doing a striptease.”
This is mirrored in his reading habits. He’s never interested in discovering himself in books. He’s also disinterested in discussing the impact of his work on others. “Novels only exist in the privacy of the heads of their readers. I’ll never know what the effect of my novels are.”