The photocopier speaks out

Jonathan Yardley's photocopier was in action over the weekend. In his review of a John Grisham novel he almost writes: The prevailing assumption among the literati is still ... that popularity equals mediocrity.

How many times have we read opinions like this? It's like the same article is photocopied to save the 'author' from having to write, let alone think. As usual, no examples are given of members of the literati expressing the assumption.

Yardley - or rather the photocopier - goes on:

The assumption is entirely invalid, since it requires us to dismiss out of hand the immensely popular and notably distinguished work of Graham Greene, Charles Dickens, Eudora Welty, William Styron and Anne Tyler, to name five who come immediately to mind.

Although I think four of the above are pretty mediocre (I don't know anything about the fifth), I wouldn't argue for the assumption; after all my favourite author Thomas Bernhard is a bestseller in Europe. But I do wonder what Yardley is bothered about.

A few writers of what is still pigeonholed as 'genre' fiction have attained a measure of critical respect – Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, Elmore Leonard, et al. – but it is handed out in a grudging or slumming sort of way.

Ah, so that's it. He wants critical respect for 'genre' authors. But why? Would the respect of the literati make any difference? According to Yardley, it's peripheral anyway. When I compare the contrasting market status of Bernhard in Europe with that in the UK and US, it has no impact on my enjoyment of his novels. I can't imagine how it could, unless my enjoyment depended on extra-literary criteria. Currently, I have no need for any individual or group to tell me Bernhard is acceptable or not. So why is Yardley giving such respect to the judgement of an anonymous literati?

There might be an answer in his admittance that the author under review isn't up to his aforementioned five. Does John Grisham rank with these in literary as well as marketplace terms? Of course not, and he might well be the first to agree.

Self-deprecation, you notice, is the first tactic used by many 'genre' fictioners and their fans. It enables the standing gravity of literary judgement to be at once denigated and surreptitiously indulged. In this case, it begs the question: what makes these five better in literary terms? Yardley doesn't say, but clearly he believes there are distinctions to be made. So, if we agree that popularity doesn't equal mediocrity and, its correlate, that popularity doesn't equal superiority, the question then becomes: how can we make the distinction?

It's a difficult and fascinating question, one that goes to the heart of literature and, if one holds one's gaze, to the heart of what it means to be human. More than ever it's a question we must face, standing at a distance from the photocopier. For this reason, it is terrible that those in a privileged position (that is, who are able to devote their working lives to reading to inform and guide the rest of us) avoid the issue. Yet maybe that's why they are in such a position.

(Link courtesy of Maud.)