Musings in Holland, Part II

“Do you want to please everyone?”

Do I want to please everyone?

These were Tim’s words to me as we were walking toward the station to take the train back to Woerden.

The topic of the moment, of course, questions over my style of writing. I had made the case to Tim that I believe that an author has to be circumspect about the style of writing he chooses so as to remain on his audience’s desired side. The writer therefore, cannot allow himself to be too honest and outright with his opinions (especially the most outrageous opinions) so as to avoid alienating his audience. In short, I believe that some degree of equivocation is the key to being a most successful writer.

This is not to say that as a writer, I am someone to take the path of least resistance. On the contrary, I often enjoy pushing the envelop of good and bad taste. 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.

Franzen received the most scathing criticism, the charge of elitism:

The author Jonathan Franzen's recent standoff with literary televangelist Oprah Winfrey has brought the nation's literati out in force. Franzen's earlier remarks, particularly those on National Public Radio, earned him the distinction of being the first writer uninvited to Ms. Winfrey's wildly popular daytime show. Having gone on record as considering a few of Oprah's book club choices "schmaltzy," and having expressed certain misgivings about seeing his acclaimed novel festooned with Oprah's Book Club coat-of-arms, Franzen found himself unceremoniously dumped from the show's upcoming roster.

Franzen's effusive apologies for what the New York Times referred to as his "Oprah Gaffe" were apparently deemed too little too late by Ms. Winfrey and her defenders. Laura Miller in a piece on the debacle for Salon echoes the most prominent anti-Franzen charge -- elitism. "Film buffs got over this stuff years ago; thanks to critics like Pauline Kael, it's possible to like Bergman without having to badmouth the Farrelly Brothers. In fact, it's entirely possible to enjoy both."

Miller further disparages Franzen for "lacking nerve" -- not the nerve to stick to his own literary opinions, mind you, but the nerve to make his peace with the status quo -- the nerve to trust, above all else, the infallible intuition of the market.

Others were far more aggressive in their attack. An October 30th Times editorial by Verlyn Klinkenborg insists "lurking behind Mr. Franzen's rejection of Ms. Winfrey is an elemental distrust of readers, except for the ones he designates."

Andre Dubos III concurs: "It is so elitist it offends me deeply. The assumption that high art is not for the masses, that they won't understand it and they don't deserve it -- I find that reprehensible. Is that a judgment on the audience? Or on the books in whose company he would be?"

Many letters to the editor brought others onboard to assault Franzen for unpardonable brattiness. G.K. Darby, president of Garrett County Press writes: "If Mr. Franzen wants to be the gadfly he thinks he is, he is welcome to join the underground publishing community and write profane, true and experimental stories that have no chance of making a dime." It seems the coveting of rockstar popularity has become as basic to what it is to write as spell checking and editing drafts.

What conclusions may we draw regarding a culture in which the most celebrated new author in America is publicly chastised for failing to be appropriately deferential to a pant-suited media icon?

A conclusion I drew from reading this: These days, I just can’t buy the concept of simply letting myself report my naked feelings as they come, without finding a way to qualify them, so as to remain within the parameters of my success. The case of Jonathan Franzen (whom I have has the pleasure of meeting on the street corner in New York’s Chinatown back in 2001, shortly before this whole brouhaha began) serves as a reminder that in today’s market for writers, fiscal questions are all the more important to be raised. I felt that i had to tailor everything I write so that it doesn't alienate the audience. This was my business sense speaking. My egoistic side side was telling me something else. As Monica Fink writes:

The foundation for fear of abandonment can be set in childhood, but will not manifest until the individual is on his or her own in the world, no longer supported in any way by adults or parents.

Hearn continues to describe fear of abandonment as, “Deep down all of us want to be grown up, balanced and mature; we just don’t know how and are sometimes scared.”

With this in mind, he suggests that fear of abandonment can be treated with therapy, as long as the individual suffering from the fear of abandonment is willing to use the therapist as a pillar to lean against while learning to be self-sufficient. Of course, an individual cannot get help for fear of abandonment without knowing the symptoms of this mental disorder.

I do have abandonment issues. That so much is very true. Fink is right on the money when she suggests they stem from childhood trauma. And it is a major factor that plays into my writing.

I seriously fear alienating any readers. So I walk on a tightrope. I am fully aware of the public's desire for material that pushes the envelope, as they have little threshold for boredom. At the same time, though, I know that an audience has limited patience for any material that veers too far out of the boundaries of what is politically correct.

Tim was in disagreement with me about that. In his words: “the audience doesn't want to hear what you think they want to hear, but your actual thoughts and that some would agree with what you write and that others have a different standing, but that they would still want to hear your point of view anyway."

Tim's input is indeed food for thought. I must sleep on it once more before I tackle it in the next post.



(Bottom two photos are actually taken in Rotterdam, not Utrecht).