About a Teen: Life is Gross, Nothing New About Sexting

Justin Taylor is an adult male. His story “So You’re Just What, Gone?” – published in the May 18, 2015, New Yorker -- is about a 16-year old girl, told from her perspective. It’s written in a style known as “close third person,” which preserves the intimacy of the first person while giving the author more observational and descriptive freedom than would otherwise be the case.

The challenge, of course, is credibility. Charity is depicted as attractive and bright (Advanced Placement English), but immersed in the seamier aspects of life. Knowing them well, she copes with them competently. Do you recognize this person? Is this present day, middle class America presented akin to the manner in which  Dickens presented the seamier aspects of Victorian England through one of his characters?

How Lucky Was Harper Lee?

Thanks to a very high-profile controversy over the recent publication of "Go Set a Watchman," most fans of fiction have been well-reminded of the story of Harper Lee.

In 1957, she brought to the publishing house J. B. Lippincott a problematic manuscript that was read by an editor named Therese von Hohoff Torrey ( known as Tay Hohoff) who saw potential in Harper's writing and worked closely with the author over the next couple of years. The end result was "To Kill a Mockingbird," which won a Pulitzer Prize and has been for decades one of the best-known and most loved works of American literature.

Embrace My Brand, Get Hooked on a Feeling

Writing in the program notes, Seattle Opera General Director Aidan Lang said Georges Bizet’s The Pearl Fishers espouses the idea that honor and friendship should be held in the highest esteem, even to the extent of suppressing one’s own sexual fulfillment.

"But in an era of the gradual erosion of communal values, of the focus on the individual, of the ‘selfie,’ is it such a bad idea to be reminded of these redeeming human characteristics?” Lang asked.

I cite that because this blog has episodically taken a look at the impact electronic social media appears to be having on individuals and what that might mean for the future of fiction. Most recently, I addressed the topic in a post entitled “Literary Hand-Wringers,” which, among other things, noted a new book by MIT professor Sherry Turkle in which she argued that digital technology is eroding the ability of humans to feel empathy for others.

In that vein, the Oct. 25, 2015 edition of T, the New York Times style magazine carried an article called “Hooked on a Feeling,” with the subtitle “Thanks to social broadcasting networks, everyone and everything is its own brand. Now we want the one thing the Internet can’t buy: human emotion.”

“The empathy economy is booming. Facts are out, feelings are in,” the author, Michael Rock, declared. But not, it appears, on the basis of a return to direct, person-to-person interaction among humans. In fact, far from it.

“Branding is supposedly not about what something says, or what it means, but how it makes us feel. A brand is a promise. It’s the emotional payoff on an investment in a particular product, place or individual. … When we talk about a strong brand, it consistently delivers the emotion it promises,” Rock said.

The article then goes on to discuss the “mood board,” a tool long used by designers to help them come up with a certain look for, say, the interior of a room or a line of women's wear. A mood board usually consists of a collection of images that, taken together, supposedly conjures up feelings that are often hard to directly express in words alone – feelings clients will then supposedly experience when they live in the rooms in question or wear the clothes.  

How is this related to social media and human emotion?

Well, here’s one possibility. “Instagram,” Rock said, “turns every individual life into a social network mood board.”

I show you my feelings, and you show me yours, coded and subject to interpretation, of course, and not in a manner that might be uncomfortably intrusive.

“When everything is available all the time and we’re inundated with information in every way, shape and form, we are left with no choice but to favor what makes us feel,” Rock  concluded.

So here’s the new plot line:  will she or won’t she – hit the thumbs-up button and “like” the latest posting on her favorite social network so as to satisfy her emotional cravings? (As opposed to, say, enter into an in-the-flesh relationship with another person.) Sounds like a compelling read.

But wait a minute: wasn't that T Magazine article entitled "Hooked on a Feeling?" You know the song: "When you hold me in your arms so tight, you let me know everything's all right." Alas, that notion was written in 1968 and as for The Pearl Fishers, 1863. How can one relate to either of those when "it's all about me?" You want emotional contact with me? Embrace my brand, soak up the feelings.

 Communal values? How quaint.

Cold Little Bird, Inept Big Birds

Ben Marcus had a good idea for his story, “Cold Little Bird,” that appeared in the Oct. 19, 2015 edition of The New Yorker: the power a child can come to have over his or her parents, perhaps earlier in life than expected.

Rather than the more typical teenage rebel, Marcus paints a picture of a 10-year old boy who recoils from the need his parents, but particularly his father, feel for frequent physical contact.

What Makes a Work of Fiction a Classic?

As readers know, I tend to use the weekly “Bookends” feature of the Sunday New York Times book review section as fodder for this blog. The way the feature works is as follows: the editor poses a question and then two of various regular participants attempt to answer it, sometimes with opposing views, but often with just different slants.

This Sunday (Oct. 18, 2015), the question (slightly different online than in the print edition) was: “When we declare something a ‘classic’ we emphasize timelessness. But shouldn’t art speak to something current?”

Hand-Wringers, Conversation and the Future of Fiction

In a recent post, I wondered whether contemporary digital culture, and the short attention spans that seem to go with it, are a threat to serious fiction.  That, in the view of novelist Jonathan Franzen, puts me in the category of “literary hand-wringers.”  Well, all right, maybe just “hand-wringers.”

I came across the category in Franzen’s extensive review of “Reclaiming Conversation,” a new book by MIT professor Sherry Turkle, who is described as having close ties with the world of technology and thus launches her latest critique of the tech world’s impact on society with more credibility than might otherwise be the case.

"Slush Piles" and Self-Publishing

The Oct. 11, 2015, “Bookends” feature of the Sunday New York Times poses the question: “How does the reputation of an author shape your response to a book?”

The word “your” in that question refers to readers, but I think the same question can be asked of publishers and the response of one of the two commentators provides an answer as to why some authors, me included, decide to self-publish.