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BlackChampagne -- no longer new; improvement also in question.: Old writing, quality, and publishability.



Monday, July 30, 2007  

Old writing, quality, and publishability.


This was in the news a couple of weeks ago, and I meant to blog about it then, but didn't get around to it. Better late than never though, so here's the deal. An aspiring author who hasn't had any luck getting his stuff published went and submitted some classic Jane Austen novel to publishers and agents, all of whom rejected it, most with brusque form letters. The inference the clever, unpublished guy wants drawn is that those dumb publishers don't know brilliant literature when it smacks them in the face, and that they're too busy cranking out shlocky celebrity "biographies" and barrel-scraping, formulaic genre novels about video games to recognize quality writing when they pull it from an unsolicited manila envelope.

Which may or may not be true, but it's kind of not the point. The point, as heretically related by scifi author John Scalzi, (a successful novelist and blogger who's blog and business model I will write about at length in the immediate future) is that 19th century literature isn't marketable today unless it's by a famous 19th century author.
If I were an editor today, and Jane Austen had not previously existed, and someone submitted Pride and Prejudice as a mainstream novel, I'd probably reject it. Because it's the 21st goddamn century, that's why, and the style is all wrong to sell a whole bunch of them (even if it were pitched as a mainstream historical novel). In point of fact, I'd probably reject anything written in a 19th century manner, with the possible exception of Mark Twain's work; for my money he's probably the only 19th century author whose writing style doesn't make me feel like I'm slogging through a morass of commas and odd language structure. After Twain, it's a hard slog through to the 1920s, and then everything suddenly becomes far more tolerable.
A further point Scalzi makes, by quoting another blog on the subject, is that if you're working the slush pile at a publisher/agent, and you get a submission that you recognize as plagiarized from some classic piece of fiction, what are you more likely to do? Email the author a condemning rejection and run the risk that some lunatic who thinks he's the reincarnation of Nathaniel Hawthorne will become fixated on you? Or just rejection stamp it and hope the kook leaves now and never comes again? You're an overworked cog in a big business, desperately trying to assuage your conscience by balancing some degree of literay quality with the crap that's more marketable. You are not a college professor. You are not the plagiarism police. It's not your problem, and you do not have the time/energy to get involved.


On this topic, I'd had a big, 600-page hardcover collection of Edgar Allen Poe's writing sitting on my bookshelf for years. I bought it for $6 from the discount section at a Borders in 2003, and I kept meaning to start reading it, but never quite got around to it. Not until earlier this summer, when I vowed to consume it all, in reasonable daily chunks. It was easy to read in 20-40 page blocks since the collection is made almost entirely of short stories, essays, and poems. I got through about half the book before I bogged down and got too busy with other things to keep at it, but the half I read included all of Poe's famous stories, so I think I had a fair sample of his oeuvre. Better than fair, since I read all his best stuff and didn't get to lots of his (probably justly) lesser known or unknown work.

How was it? I hate to say it, but on the whole, it sucks. Poe lived from 1809-1849, and his writing is an artifact of the time. It's a morass of wandering sentence structure, armored by a semi-impenetrable thicket of verbosity, unconventional punctuation, unnecessarily-obscure multisyllabic spelling-bee killer words, and most of the prose is infected with a general wandering pointlessness. It's a slog to read the stories, even the famous ones, and though I went into the book with high hopes and eagerness, I was soon reduced to creeping through one or two rambling short stories a day, while constantly struggling to pull my attention back when it drifted away on each semi-endless page. It was with not a little relief that I put the collection down four or six weeks ago when more pressing matters demanded my reading time, and I have no idea when/intention to pick it up again.

It hurts me to not enjoy or even appreciate Poe, since I love Lovecraft, and his writing style is easily the equal of Poe's in terms of being difficult to crack. Despite that handicap, I've read everything Lovecraft wrote several times by now, and I am definitely not a detractor of excessive verbosity and archaic linguistic conventions. It's just that Poe brings very little else to the ballgame.

Lovecraft wrote in the early 1900s, and in an intentionally archaic style, but he had such visionary, genius subject matter that his mythos is still resonating today. Poe had a few cleverly-gruesome ideas, but they're never very well executed in the stories, there's no unifying concept or theme to his work, and it's all very small in scale. Individual weird things happen, but it's just some guy (or orangutan) doing unto some other guy, (or mother and daughter) and since every story is quite short there's never any emotional heft to anything that happens. Every story is brief, all the characters are completely static and largely devoid of unique traits, there are no human interactions (just scenarios/plot events), women and children are nonexistent, all the narrators/main characters have the same voice/personality, and even Poe's reputation for a healthy weirdness of imagination is misplaced. Most readers have heard of the stories starring investigator Arthur Gordon Pymm, short stories The Cast of Amontillado, The Pit and the Pendulum, and poem The Raven, but really, that's about it for the good stuff, or the lurid stuff. The rest is often bizarre, but in an absurd, forgettable way. Poe wrote a lot of farcical, humorous shorts about things like con men pretending to have ridden hot air balloons to the moon. Poe was also deeply involved in the literary magazines of the day, so the collection has numerous shorts that are satire about magazine publishers and dueling literary journals. The stories are not bad, and sometimes even interesting, but the subject matter really couldn't be more disconnected from any modern reader's interests.

As best I can tell, Poe is famous largely for his short life and tragic death, for being one of the first to write stories that were kind of horror-esque, and for sort of pioneering the mystery/detective genre. He never wrote any novels or even novella-length tales, and it's weird that he gets credit for horror stories, since his aren't especially horrific, and countless, centuries-old folk/fairy tales have many more elements of horror and weird fiction than anything this side of Clive Barker.

I'm glad that Poe is still remembered and read, and I'm sure a lot of his work was ground-breaking and visionary and brilliant in 1830, but it's all pretty dated and often quite hard to get through these days, and would have no chance of being accepted for publication today. Which is, I suppose, the whole point/greater truth elucidated by the perennial efforts of someone to expose publishers as modernistic-hacks.

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Comments:

Ya know, I must really agree with you on this one. While Poe has a fingerfull of solid works--I'm especially fond of that tolling bells poem--I don't find his other works, especially his lesser known stories, very profound at all. And yes, I do realize the irony of my inability to give the exact name of "that bells poem," despite it being one of my all time favorites.

I think The Simpsons said it best in their famous Treehouse of Horror episode where they parodied The Raven--"Maybe people were easier to scare back then." And that's got to be a huge contributor. Not necessarily because the human spirit has strengthened or anything, but as unconventional or controversial media becomes the mainstream--hollywood gore is at an all time high and steadily rising--fans and readers have pretty much seen it all. And with over 150 years separating Poe's works from today... well, suddenly a guy going crazy because he believes the body he killed and buried underneath his floor still has a beating heart isn't very scary.

My roomate during my final year of college was a big horror movie buff, and he'd seen a lot of gore. Very little surprised him anymore, and the two of us used to discuss collaborating on writing the goriest movie ever--so ridiculous and over the top it'd shatter all previous "how much fake blood did they use" records, and, should it ever be produced, end up an instant flop--or maybe a cult classic. "Gorgy," would be the title, followed by the sequel, "Gorgy 2: Curse of the Bloodgasm."

Of course, blowing up zombies by shooting them with a hyperbolic rapid fire syringe cannon is easy; writing a good script for such a movie is not. And then, back to the Poe thing you mentioned before; while Poe's "oh man, people get gutted up in this story!" works were new and profound at the time, without lasting character development or an underlying reason for everybody getting killed, the shock value wears off, fast. And there's the rub in authorship; how do you think of something that's never been done before? Or even if you do borrow a story told a million times over, how do you slap a fresh coat of paint on it, market it, and make it loveable, addicting, and profitable for the industry?


 

When I initially read Poe, I was about 13 or 14. I was limited to the selection of stories available in the books at the school library, which were, of course, The Pit and the Pendulum, The Masque of Red Death, The Cask of Amontillado, The Telltale Heart, and Ligeia. There was the poetry as well, and I am sure that everyone who has graduated high school has read at least The Raven, The Bells, and Annabelle Lee. I thought Poe was probably the greatest writer that ever lived based on what I had read.

Unfortunately I happened to pick up the "unabridged complete works" of Edgar Allan Poe at a bookstore when I was in my early twenties, and all I have to say is that it sure could have used a healthy dose of abridging. His work was either really good or utter crap with little falling between the two.

I am sure that some of the horror aspects would have been much better received in his own time, but some of the other stuff he wrote is just plain silly. Silly and boring. And I don't think it would have read any differently a hundred or even a thousand years ago.

One of his stories is about a man who just walks around making sure that people see him. His goal is to always have an alibi. He never does anything that would require an alibi, just walks around making sure he has one (I believe that one is called A Man of the Crowd or something similar). What the hell was the point of that?

In another story, A Succession of Sundays(IIRC), a man won't allow his daughter to marry someone unless three Sundays fall in one week. So the clever young man gets two sea captains to sail around the world in opposite directions. When they arrive back at the starting point, on a Sunday of course, one claims that it is Saturday and the other Monday. Well if that was all it took, why not just pay a couple of bums to make the same claim?

This is all taken completely out of context though. The stories that were published were in periodicals and probably had some relevance beyond what we read today. If people of the day were confused about the international date line, for instance, the latter story would certainly been better than it is today.

That said, the book that I have seems to have every scrap of paper that Poe ever wrote on in it. There are some pages that have only a title followed by a couple of sentences -or no title and a couple of sentences. If any writer today were to fall over dead and have their possessions rifled through looking for anything that they ever wrote, I am sure there would be a lot more crap than literary gold. Maybe best for authors to burn all of the stuff they did as a teen so that it won't be subject to such scrutiny in a couple hundred years?


 

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