"The fault . . . is not in our stars but in ourselves that we are underlings."
Where is the outrage?
Where in this vast mighty America holding tens of thousands of struggling writers, some of them strikingly talented, is there outrage about the dominance of literature by an exclusive elite? Where are the populations of demi-puppets in this fight? On which side?
As the Hogs of Literature gather in Manhattan at $12,000 tables, where are the demi-puppets?
As literature is dragged ever further into irrelevance by foppish rich judges applauding literary poetry and fiction devoid of character and life, where are the demi-puppets?
Maybe I should pose my questions more directly.
To the hundreds of lit-bloggers: Is Rick Moody a better writer than you?
To good writers publishing in lowly journals, zeens, and web sites: Is Rick Moody a better writer and thinker than you also?
To performing verbal artists: Does Moody carry better words or voice?
To demi-puppet assistants and proofreaders at grunt paper or publishing jobs: Do you also rate him better, above you by merit and right?
What about our society's unconnected unknown novelists with books better than his or his panelists' or his nominees'? What makes Moody worthy? Why is he Judge of literature and not you? Because of his ideas? His INTEGRITY?!!
This blog is a lone voice of contrary thinking attempting to open barricaded doors and throw light upon the monied machinations of today's literary scene-- including those at the Marriott Marquis who move around funding, awards, and names like so many shell games without observers to monitor their honesty.
Literature belongs to all people, not just to a cultural aristocracy; not just to a fake-philanthropic foundation that gives us a "National Book Awards" showcase of intellectual conformity-- awards which represent not even a sliver of America's real culture nor a whisper of America's strong authentic voice.