{Edited to correct a misquote. Please see end note.}
Inside Miscellaneous Voices: Australian Blog Writing you will find reflections on love, loss, literature, and how our lives are being affected by the shifting methods of communication in this digital age.
Featuring the work of James Bradley, Lisa Dempster, Angela Meyer, Jennifer Mills, A. S. Patric, Penni Russon, and many others.
That is the blurb you’ll find over at Miscellaneous Press for this recently released anthology of Australian blog writing. Over at The Australian, Geordie Williamson calls it, “after its modest fashion, something of a landmark text”. (My italics)
I have not read it yet, but I will be getting my hands on a copy soon. For a small publishing company, with a work possibly not likely to appeal to a wide audience, I think a mention in The Australian is a win. For bloggers though, I’m not sure the overall article was. It… got on my goat.
And judging by the comments over at James Bradley’s City of Tongues, I wasn’t the only one slightly irritated.
I’ll state my bias at the outset. Misc Press is the brainchild of Karen Andrews who some of us know well as Miscmum, who I have had the good fortune to meet in person and who happens to have written one of Caspar’s favourite books. And some bloggers I am “friends” with are represented in the anthology. Moreover, when I clicked through to the article from Karen’s Facebook link I will admit I was expecting something more akin to a review, which was not the article’s intent.
So with biases and false expectations fully disclosed, what exactly was it that irked me?
James Bradley put his finger on it really, when he wrote that the article “attempts to resituate the deeply tedious debate about the value of online writing by asking some questions about the aesthetics of blogging, and how the form alters the way we write.” (Again, these are my italics.)
Already, based solely on the premise of the article, I’m tired.
To a certain extent, I want to have it both ways. I want blog writing to be judged on its own merit, without the medium interfering with the way we receive it. And I want it to be judged with its nature taken into account, not to have it compared with or squeezed into some hierarchical literary canon. Essentially, I suppose , this is what Williamson’s question is for, but isn’t it past time commentators on the subject stopped asking the question and started to simply address the content as what it is for what it’s worth?
While millions of people blog, all of us who do are familiar with that blank look that washes over the faces of those who don’t if the subject ever comes up. I admit, for those on the “outside” it is a foreign country, and not a highly respected one. Alec Patric’s thoughts on blogging before he began a.s.patric.Ink were the fairly standard ones:
…I didn’t know much at all about blogs or bloggers. On an abstract level my estimations of what blogging meant couldn’t have been lower, but basically, I was entirely oblivious. I’d literally never seen a blog. It was a territory within the internet landscape that I’d never wanted to explore. Questions for the Brave New World
One of the (many) things that irritated me about the article was Williamson’s focus on the style of writing which makes for “popularity”.
It is the briefer, nimbler, more flirtatious forms that meet with greatest success in an online setting. The personal essay and the feuilleton — gossipy, critical, glancing supplements to the larger narratives of the day…
We are all aware that the internet is shallow. That it is full of dross, and trolls, and gossips and liars. We all know that appealing to the lowest common denominator is what “sells”. But isn’t even bothering to make such an observation rather facile? (And can’t the same be said of journalism, music, television?) Isn’t the fact that few commentators can discuss blogging, even in a positive light, without bringing it up rather back-handed?
To use an analogy: We don’t need to point out that some hip-hop is misogynistic and homophobic, or discuss the ways in which hip-hop has become commercialised, or even to like hip-hop in order to say that The Message is poetry.
To be fair, Williamson’s characterisation of blogging was not overly harsh or unreasonably critical. It wasn’t overtly critical at all. I think most of us would agree with the generalities he discussed. I do feel, however, that the generalities lead too often to unjust comparisons. Can we so easily ignore that the best writing, even in print, sells hardly at all while junk fiction like The Da Vinci Code, which is as replete with appalling grammar as the web is, rakes in millions. If we must compare, can we at least compare apples with apples?
(I think Williamson’s possibly subconscious bias on this point is most evident in the statement, “Bloggers still aspire to print publication, with its hard-to-shake promise of literary immortality”. Actually, very few of the bloggers I know have such aspirations, and I believe that includes some who are featured in the anthology.)
One thing he does discuss is poetry, suggesting that it is “liberated” by being on the page instead of the screen where too many distractions are only a click away, that it demands “readerly monogamy”. I agree that poetry requires attention, but I would also suggest that few people have enough interest to give it that kind of attention, whether there are buttons to push or not. Last time I checked, none of the major publishers even accept poetry submissions anymore. In this mass-market world we live in… Thank goodness for poetry blogs!
Which leads me to what I consider a huge failure in this particular discourse, which Williamson mentions although it is not his purpose, and that is the idea that blogging is democracy. It isn’t. Mass markets are democracy. Regression to the mean is democracy. What blogging is, and why it can offer so much to those engaged with it, is anarchy. It isn’t globalisation; it is tribalism.
Our tribes are not racial or geographical. They are poets connecting to poets. They are bedroom philosophers connecting to those who ask similar questions. They are sexual abuse victims connecting to others who share a history and a language the broader culture doesn’t understand. They are mothers of autistic children. They are historians, comedians, fantasists and fetishists. They are anyone who finds a home somewhere for the words and thoughts and feelings they value the most but which our workaday lives do not necessarily have room for.
When Williamson writes about the “failure of poetry and fiction to create a vigorous online presence”, I can only assume he is measuring by popularity rather than vitality and it is in that equation that he misses the point. Because blogging is hip-hop. Back in the day. On the streets of The Bronx.
It’s like a jungle sometimes.
I do believe that judging the merit of writing on blogs as literature is valid – for blog writing that is literary. I do believe that looking at stylistic patterns is valid – as a study of the way we communicate. But in a world where librarians and archivists are struggling to find ways to both preserve and catalog electronic media and, even more importantly, trying to figure out exactly what to preserve, Miscellaneous Voices is a landmark text. It is a project which grapples with those questions and I would really like a commentator to address it on that level, rather than sliding into the print vs. digital “value” or “style” debate.
(I hope I have not been unjust to Geordie Williamson here. While I found the general tone dismissive, I do believe he was somewhat sympathetic. And he is the chief literary critic at The Australian, so it is not unnatural that he approached the book in this way.)
ERRATUM: I misquoted James early in the post as saying the article was an attempt to “resuscitate the deeply tedious debate”, where he actually wrote “resituate”. Obviously an entirely different meaning and, I think, a fairer assessment of the overall focus. I was regrettably unable to find room, or time, in this post to discuss all the more positive, and complex, nuances of Geordie’s piece (hence the inadequate disclaimer tacked on at the end) and am hoping to have time to address the broader issues in a more balanced way soon. At the same time, however, I also believe I pulled my punches on some points because I view the article as (to quote James’ later post) “genuinely trying to grapple with some issues about the way we think about blogging and its relationship to the literary”.
My apologies to both James and Geordie for the error.
Great post Lani.
Since Mister Williamson surveyed the blogging world with an imperious eye–> not bothering to look too deeply, let alone spend a few days reading and properly assessing the state of grass roots Australian literature developing in our corner of the bogging world, I don’t think you tone was ‘unjust.’ Not at all. If fact, I would have enjoyed a little more agro, but maybe that’s just me.
I think I’m too rusty to really let rip. Or I was just feeling exhausted when I pushed the publish button and knew that it was somewhat incomplete. (I’ve been editing this damn thing in my head all day.)
I’ll get back to being bolshie at some point. Well, occasionally… In between all the self-indulgent navel-gazing posts.
Brilliant post, I must admit I didn’t read the article – nor did I submit a post to be published in the book – purely because blogging to me is a community. I write, some would disagree with me calling what I do ‘writing’, to connect with others. I am not interested in my posts being critiqued and immortalised (although I am well aware that they are, the internet is forever) I am here to say ‘this shit happened’ like I would with any one of my real life friends…
I think this is a concept something that many cannot grasp.
So glad you are back.
I am SO tempted here to give you that “critique” of your writing. I’ll just say instead, that I think community is highly dependent on the ability to communicate. And you do community very well.
The article did talk about connection a fair bit actually. But it was as though he was talking about us all making sure we had iPhones and knew who in Hollywood was screwing whom, preferably before someone else did. He really missed the point.
On the immortality front, I think the value of blogs for the future will probably be similar to that of an old letter discovered in the leaves of a book that belonged to someone’s grandmother.
(And… I’m glad I’m back too!)
I feel a bit funny about weighing in on this because I am one of the writers picked out in the article and I don’t want to sound grumpy at being misunderstood or misinterpreted.
He called my piece a poem and suggested it worked better in print than on screen, which in itself is fine (hey, at least he didn’t say it was rubbish). However, I honestly can only think of it as a blog post, not a poem. It’s raw, immediate, confessional, reflective… I guess all these things can make it a poem, but it’s my blogging voice (highly influenced in the moment by the film Synecdoche, New York – which in itself is a beauty of blogging, that capturing of those ephemeral influences), no matter the form. I realise this isn’t very articulate (it is what it is because I say it is), but my point is that I simply disagree that it is more suited to print than screen. In fact a lot of people blog in verse, I think it is well suited to the medium – visual, immediate, energetic while allowing contemplative blank space, easy on the eye. His suggestion (which sounds like an assumption) that poetry and blogging are mutually exclusive seems to also assume that people would read poetry in print. Actually most people don’t, I know for a fact that several people who commented on that post (both online and off) haven’t read poetry since high school. The link to the post is at the end of this comment if people want to have a look.
Incidentally, I was already a published author when I began my blog. I blog for other reasons that have little to do with promoting that side of myself, apart from the odd mention when a book comes out. It is a record of me, of my domestic, thinking, living self – it’s an aesthetic of the everyday. I have always found my ’secret diary’ voice unbearable; when I discovered a voice for blogging it was a revelation. The notion of readership is a discipline and pushes me beyond lazy thinking or careless writing or utterly self-indulgent wallowing, to ensure I have a record of this time in my life that I actually want to reread.
http://eglantinescake.blogspot.com/2009/05/fragments-from-fragmentary-mind.html
Can I just add I love this:
“Our tribes are not racial or geographical. They are poets connecting to poets. They are bedroom philosophers connecting to those who ask similar questions.”
Word.
Penni, I had exactly the same feeling about my “secret diary” voice. Although it might seem counter-intuitive, I find blogging completely liberating. The immediacy removes the idea of “posterity” for me, and the (possible) audience necessitates communicating – something. I left the blog for quite a while and have been reading old posts. They have communicated more to me than any journal I have ever tried to keep.
As I said mentioned in the comments over at James’ blog – the criticisms about “readerly attention” and poetry seemed to be issues of web design, not a problem with the medium itself so I find them quite spurious. And now that I’ve seen it (thank you for the link), it is just… absurd. Your space is not cluttered or distracting at all. And add to that the fact that most readers see posts through feeds anyway…. Grrr.
I have to say, though, I would call that particular post a poem. Then again, reading through the comments I saw “And connection is good, however it comes. Posts or taillights.”
I think that is a poem too.
To quote penni, she has said in the past that she wants her blog to be ‘writerly’, which is exactly what I seek to accomplish with mine, although I can’t say I often get it right (or at least I think so, but I am picky). Lani, I still think about that post you once wrote about Marx/ism. If you ever wanted to know if your words ever struck a chord, then wonder no more.
I’m wracking my brains to think what post that was. I don’t recall ever writing about Marx. Although interestingly enough, a piece written about Marxism is the only thing I’ve ever had published. (Overland 152)
I typed Marx in the search box but all I discovered was that my blog designer has a sense of humour.
And “writerly”… Yes, I would like my blog to be that too. But feel the same way you do. Picky is not a bad thing however. Maybe.
[...] flowed out of the piece has been both interesting and illuminating (Lani at Cerebral Mum’s piece is particularly worth reading, as is the comments string from my original [...]
Hi there
Just a small point. In your post you write:
“James Bradley put his finger on it really, when he wrote that the article ‘attempts to resuscitate the deeply tedious debate about the value of online writing by asking some questions about the aesthetics of blogging, and how the form alters the way we write.’”
James did not write ‘resuscitate’ – he wrote ‘resituate’, which changes the sense of the passage entirely.
Best
Geordie
My apologies, Geordie. I will correct that immediately.
‘… the idea that blogging is democracy. It isn’t. Mass markets are democracy. Regression to the mean is democracy. What blogging is, and why it can offer so much to those engaged with it, is anarchy. It isn’t globalisation; it is tribalism.’
Oh, you are so good at getting to the heart of things! Also in the par following this one.
I would like to say, nice webpage. Im not sure if it has been addressed, however when using Firefox I can never get the entire page to load without refreshing alot of times. Could just be my modem.
Dear Doug, it’s your modem. No such problem when I use Firefox to look at this site.