Reflection on Writing

A few days ago I made this reflection on my habits as a writer:

It is merely a matter of my psychological disposition that fears alienating people and driving them away, and I simply do not wish to be the writer who puts all his focus on what he finds acceptable to the audience of his own mind. I am a realist. I know that in today’s market, there is the reality of maintaining repeat readership to consider. Psychologically, I have always feared abandonment. (This is an issue for another post, of course). Like many people with self-identity issues, I rely on the approval of others to define and strengthen my identity.

Basically, the two main considerations I have as a writer are in the business sense and in the egoistic sense.

My business sense tells me that it is not economically prudent for a writer to write as he pleases without any consent for the values and the intellectual limits of the audience he intends to sell to.

One only consider the case of Jonathan Franzen, when he rejected his novel The Corrections to appear on Oprah’s book club some years back.

I turn back the clock little more than five years, when I was a senior at Franklin Pierce:

Joe Lehman

Senior Liberal Arts Seminar

Professor Pender

10 December 2005

The Fiction Industry in the World of Globalization

Sometime between 1998 and 2000, around the age of sixteen found this writer strolling through New York’s Chinatown with my father, a fairly prominent poet and book critic. Along the way we happened across two authors my father had been acquainted with who were apparently also out on a leisurely stroll, catching the city’s nightlife. One of these authors was Jeffrey Eugenides, who had recently seen his novel The Virgin Suicides adopted for the screen in a successful Hollywood production. The other was Jonathan Franzen, who shortly after our encounter would achieve acclaim for his breakthrough novel The Corrections. As we exchanged greetings I recall one of them asked me if I wanted to be a poet like my dad. I told them that I do occasionally write poetry, but what I really aspired to be was a novelist of fiction. The two authors seemed to find this answer very pleasing. Looking back at this incident I find it incredible my idealism toward the thought of entering my intended career. I had little idea then of the complex state of the market for fiction in the United States today. Although I rest assured that I am in no way deterred from fulfilling my goal of becoming a great fiction writer, I will do so with the knowledge that it is becoming increasingly difficult for novelists to earn a successful living. Several factors point to a decline in the market for fiction in particular and a decrease in American readership in general.

The present literary market in America finds it virtually under the thumb of corporate dominance. It is as though the market is a direct casualty of the so-called movement toward globalization. In what Kim Campbell of the Christian Science Monitor wonders may or may not be “the death of literature,” the industry is finding itself more and more commercialized, the results of this commercialization see “too much spotlight on bestsellers,” and a growing belief that “publishers are focusing only on celebrities at the expense of lesser-known authors” (¶2-3). The common effect of globalization, or globalized capitalism on most industries is that the larger marketplace of ideas and innovations are continually pushed to the side, with the cheaper, more expediently mass produced—and consequently mediocre, at the top. This is evidently the case in the book industry. Campbell points out that this globalization process is hardly a new and sudden occurrence, for, “commercialization has been seeping into the book industry for decades, ever since the job of publishing has fallen into fewer and more corporate hands” (¶7). The erosion of an industry into the ownership of fewer players is a trademark not only of globalization but also of capitalism in general.

Authors and aspiring authors find this commercialized literary world more exclusive than ever before. It is as though one has to be a big-name author a lá Stephen King or Tom Clancy. As one fiction author Paul Cody laments, “everyone in the industry says how fewer people are reading and buying books, and fewer still are reading so-called literary fiction, work that demands attention and an IQ over 100” (¶1). In other words, most of the fiction the masses generally read is limited to cheap potboiler novels that travelers use to pass the time on airplane rides. According to Publishers Weekly in order to capitalize on the most popular trends of the current market, more authors are turning to adopting the themes of these trends, incorporating them into their own work. A particular example of this is the phenomenon of Harry Potter books. Apparently when Harry Potter first appeared on the bestseller lists of the United States after its initial success in Great Britain, several authors from James Patterson to Isabel Allende have taken to foraying into the world of juvenile fiction. They have recognized how Harry Potter has captured the attention of adults as well as children and seek to follow in J.K. Rowling’s success. Rowling is seen as a fluke author, the unexpected and unprecedented rags-to-riches tale of an obscure writer instantly elevated to fame and fortune. A label also attributed to Dan Brown, author of The DaVinci Code. (Zeitchik, 12-13). One should not put too much stock into the idea of this type of success occurring on a widespread level.

Given the prevalence of struggling authors in the industry, Brown and Rowling should be seen as the exception, not the rule. Paul Cody is not an author who matches anywhere near the success of such “big” names. He has had several books published and has had to face the tremendous difficulties of doing so without celebrity status. In a personal email to this writer, to whom he is a neighbor, Cody shares his experiences in the publishing world and his views on the fiction industry. For him, his books take a considerably long and frustrating time to sell to his editors. He explains his dependence on reviewers, who he describes as overworked to publicize his books. When they do so, he feels they are not as thorough as they could be (¶3). Cody’s experiences are confirmed as valid criticism. In the matter of authors’ dependence on reviewers for publicity, one book editor, Ron Charles reveals the politics of the situation. Since 1933, the trade journal Kirkus is perhaps the leading among the many periodicals that are employed to review and recommend potential manuscripts for publication (¶1). Kirkus in essence is the arbiter of whether a novel passes muster to be published. Lately the process of Kirkus reviews has become corrupted. In 2004 Kirkus’s parent company VNU Business Publications initiated two newspapers online. One, Kirkus Discoveries, according to Charles, “will allow self-published authors, long ignored by trade journals, to buy a Kirkus review for $350” (¶4-5). The other, Kirkus Reports, highlights the best “lifestyle books (health, parenting, personal finance).” But publishers must pay $95 per title to be included (¶6). This is tantamount to naked bribery. The projected result of these business practices is that publication will no longer be decided by quality. Honest authors like Paul Cody will lose out to those with the right cash to throw around to the right people. This is globalization in a nutshell.

Another cost of the global capitalist world on the book industry is the evolution of technology. Technological innovation is one of the high stages of globalization. Intercontinental borders between communication are now transparent. Communication is now global and so is electronic entertainment. Books now compete with newer, more advanced means of entertainment to capture the leisure time of people. As Paul Cody observes, “we have raised a largely visual generation—movies, computer games, DVDs, etc., and nobody’s read Faulkner” (¶1). The printed word as the older generation knows it is now being revolutionized. The advent of digitized books—e-books, is gaining in popularity (Campbell, ¶4). In an editorial, John N. Berry III, editor-in-chief of the Library Journal offers his vision of a future of literature dominated by digital books. He pictures a world where hard-copy books are practically obsolete. He imagines a machine that can literally scan and download old books onto his personal computer: “My plan now is to digitize our books, our home library. First, I’ll put the cookbook collection into the database, then all my history and politics—in fact all of the nonfiction and reference books. Finally, I’ll digitize all of the fiction: novels and volumes of poetry and movies.” He jokingly remarks that “our toughest problem has been deciding what we’ll buy to replace all our bookcases.” His piece is filled with facetious comments like this, always referring to those “damned books” (10). But the danger of the printed word actually becoming obsolete is no laughing matter. In order for their work to survive authors are forced to play right along with the demands of commercialization. Authors like Brett Easton Ellis have taken to incorporating product placement into their stories, with characters wearing Armani suits and drinking Coke (Campbell, ¶17). This can be seen as a sign of desperation.

With authors of fiction turning more to digitization the void left in the industry of publishing hard-copy books is being filled by books of political and religious themes. The past few years have seen an abundance of political commentary books by popular conservative personalities like Michael Savage of talk radio, or books on business by moguls like Donald Trump, or religious guidebooks by evangelicals like the Reverend Louis B. Sheldon (Schlump, S11). As Paul Cody sees it, the majority of people’s chosen reading material is related to practicality, not intellect: “People buy books, but they buy non-literary books—how to lose weight, anxiety, invest in the stock market…” (¶2). The apparent resurgence of religion in society has affected all kinds of pop culture including works of fiction. In addition to more and more novels being published with biblical themes in their stories, people are beginning to return to older classics to rediscover what references to the bible can be interpreted. Several libraries have taken to adding a “Christian fiction” section to accompany “science fiction” and “mystery.” These libraries are being systematically pressured by evangelical interests to concentrate their inventories to books deemed suitable to pass the religious litmus test and screen out and exclude those that do not pass (Ralph, 50). At the time of this writing, December 2005, with the release of the new film version of C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to cinema, religious groups have been exploiting the returning popularity of Lewis’s “Narnia” books. They note the series’ many biblical analogies and allusions, such as the comparison between the lion Aslan and Jesus Christ. Sales of the books and related merchandise are skyrocketing (Prichard, ¶1-3). Theologians are bickering over what denomination Lewis intended his books to appeal to. Liberal theologians claim he advocated the humanitarian, social-justice oriented brand of Christianity, while conservative theologians believe he adhered to the evangelical model (MacDonald, ¶1-15). Publishers have admitted it is strictly for reasons of business that they follow the market demands for political and religious works (Schlump, S11). Naturally they cannot be faulted for making pragmatic business decisions although it is quite discouraging. Paul Cody is skeptical of the intentions of the religious crowd, writing that they strike him as the repressive book-burning type (¶6). The thought of a movement for book-burning gaining strength in America is certainly terrifying.

Coming back to the issue of commercialization impinging on the industry of literary fiction, it is not surprising that many authors find themselves in a situation where principles conflict with pragmatism. In an ideal world where a majority of Americans read fiction and authors do not have to struggle to be published, authors may afford the luxury of standing by anti-commercial principles. In this day and age with the market being the way it is authors do not often have the luxury of those principles. It is advised that one should not attempt to pick and choose what advertisers they would accept to promote their work. Such a situation was the case with the author I met in Chinatown, Jonathan Franzen. Shortly after our encounter Mr. Franzen found himself in a bit of controversy. Upon the publication of his latest hit novel The Corrections, the famous talk show host Oprah Winfrey decided to add the book to her prestigious book club. Franzen, declined, and incidentally made some comments seen as disparaging the commercialism of Oprah’s book club. In his words he did not want “a logo of corporate ownership” to his work. His decision and his words drew fire as being an elitist and a snob (Oldenburg, ¶1-16). It has been pointed out that a great deal of authors who have appeared on Oprah’s list, particularly Toni Morrison have pointed to it as having been the great boon to their careers (Bernard, ¶7). The question is, how should Franzen’s actions be judged. Were they based on principle or elitism? What is known is that despite whatever aversion some authors may have toward commercialization, the fact is Oprah has proven to be very inspirational and her endorsement carries a lot of weight. For James Frey’s novel A Million Little Pieces, her endorsement earned him 85,000 copies sold by her fans (Green, 46). Under these circumstances it would seem that embracing Oprah’s endorsement would be the prudent thing to do for an author.

The fact is, writing in a commercialized world may be discouraging for many authors, but the changes of time are beyond the individual’s control. When one’s livelihood is at stake he must accept the reality of globalization for better or for worse. Franzen, of course is a successful novelist, in his case he did not have much to lose by taking the stand he did. An author with less success would not be as lucky. All the evidence cited in this essay points to the fact that the market for fictional literature has indeed declined, but if anything a declining market makes for a greater need among authors to accept any avenue of publicity available to them. The hardships of gaining publication affirm this conviction. As for this writer personally, I do not allow such a grim outlook to discourage my goal of becoming a great fiction writer. A true novelist will write because of his passion, not markets and politics.

Works Cited

Bernard, Sarah. “Jonathan Franzen’s Story of O.” New York 5 October 2001. 9 December 2005

Berry III, John N. “Living with Books.” Library Journal 130.18 (2005): 10-10.

Campbell, Kim. “Death of Literature? Not Just Yet.” Christian Science Monitor 20 September 2001.

Charles, Ron. “Will Authors Get Honest Review for $350?” Christian Science Monitor 27 September 2004.

Cody, Paul. “Re: fiction questions.” E-mail to Joseph Lehman. 10 December 2005.

Green, Hardy. “Why Oprah Opens Readers’ Wallets.” Business Week 10 October 2005: 46-46.

MacDonald, G. Jeffrey. “Christians Battle Over ‘Narnia.’” Christian Science Monitor 8 December 2005.

Oldenburg, Ann. “Franzen Says He Feels ‘Awful’ About Feud.” USA Today 25 October 2001.

Ralph, Peter and James LaRue. “Christian Fiction Labels: Help or Hindrance?” American Libraries 36.11 (2005): 50-51.

Prichard, James. “Christian Stores Capitalize on ‘Narnia.’” Associated Press 9 December 2005.

Schlump, Heidi. “Pinning Their Fates to Pop Culture and Politics.” Publishers Weekly 29 August 2005: S11-S12.

Zeitchik, Steven. “The Potter Effect.” Publishers Weekly 11 July 2005: 12-13.