Tuesday, September 14, 2004

New Lit Versus Old

Maud Newton has a very defensive heading to the lead post on her blog, arguing against the notion that the Internet is "killing literature."

I don't think the Net is killing literature-- but neither do I think that it's saving it, as some may think. The literary bloggosphere is operating within a self-created bubble. Most of them think and act alike. There may be thousands of them, but they all seem to belong to the same class, have the same political beliefs, and roughly the same views about literature and what constitutes "good" writing. There is actually far wider variety within the Underground Literary Alliance and our sympathizers.

The ULA isn't just operating within a narrow world of self-importance, but instead comes from, and is reaching out to, the broader spectrum of American society. We're creating different kinds of writing that can reach folks who otherwise wouldn't be readers (which is what we've been doing with our print zeens). This is what infuriates people. Please take a look sometime at the official ULA Blog, available on the home page at our www.literaryrevolution.com fan site. ULAers Wred Fright and Patrick King are putting up a wide variety of writing. (Read also Marissa Ranello's remarks on the current Monday Report.)

The literary Past on the other hand of same-old same-old is represented by someone like blogger Dan Green, who puts forth the usual boring bland pseudo-intellectual BLATHER, with a liberal pose of objectivity and condescending attitude. A professorial know-it-all (just what the public is seeking). The Writer on the Podium.

Such writers are fakes. They never had an original thought in their heads; know only what was pumped into them in graduate school. What they give the reader are recycled recycled recycled recycled recycled recycled versions of what was nonsense to start with. Try making a copy of a copy on a Xerox, then a copy of that copy, and so on, and you quickly get very unsharp, blurry images. Current "literary" writing.

Updike knock-offs: Does it get any worse?

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