Virginia Woolf:
Despite her crotchety take on "kids these days" and their "writings about themselves", Woolf has some good points. And the section I quoted above is a crucial analysis when one is critiquing one's own essays. I use this forum to write about anything at all. I've ranged on topics as profound as self-hood to as petty as complaining about social interaction. Theology, politics, dinosaurs, and Shakespeare all find their way into the grist of my mind's mill. In a lot of ways, this blog acts as much as a visible journal of my life, thoughts, and interests as an outlet for anything of genuine worth.
In many ways, this is the natural outgrowth of the democratization of communication and the ease with which we can now share. Even Woolf's comments came to me rhizomatically, by first hitting a page by The Boston Review which quoted Woolf, and then a quick Google search to get to the (republished) essay. Embedded in "The Decay of Essay Writing", Woolf says "no one has approached the essays of Elia", and the Common Reader website conveniently inserted a link to help provide context about Charles Lamb--the man referred to by the pseudonym of Elia. Despite Woolf's disdain of anyone being able to write suddenly thinking they have something worth writing about, there's something to be said for the Digital Age's ability to generate and link content.
Nevertheless, it makes me wonder about my own writings. I know that some of what I've written has impacted people--many times it comes up in conversation ("I read your blog...", which is nerve-wracking, as I don't know which essay they're thinking of) or online via likes, comments, and total page views. In terms of "mattering", however, that is always a little tricky. And I think that's what has Woolf's petticoats in a twist: She was seeing the beginning of the rise of ubiquity. This is the fundamental problem with self-publishing. As flawed as they are, agents and publishers act as gatekeepers to try to weed-out lower quality works. By allowing every/anyone to publish a book, the amount of options increases so much that being able to discover any worthwhile writing becomes a matter of luck.
I'm not saying that I'm above the tide of intellectual detritus. Pretty far from it, as a matter of fact. My unpolished prose is done less because I think that my thoughts are so important--and therefore must be shared--than it is because it is an exercise of exposure, allowing my work to be seen, read, challenged, and dismissed. So while I understand Woolf's lamentation, I think it's a little misdirected.
Perhaps what we really need in our bloggers and essayists isn't fewer writers, but a more thoughtful, intelligent, well-read collection. I agree with her comment that much of modern "criticism" is one looking at "likes and dislikes". That's the problem with Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic aggregate websites. That sort of thinking and writing is absolutely a problem, and I've been guilty of that sort of thinking here. (And there's a right place for that sort of writing, particularly when it comes to how someone ought to expect before paying for something; that's the purpose of reviews, after all.)
And in this I definitely differ with Woolf: If anything, we don't have enough people writing. So I encourage anyone to write more and more often. Get your thoughts down, regardless of their level of polish, and don't stop creating more content. Then make that content better. And the next even better. We'll all benefit that way.
----
* Part of the reason that I'm dismissive of older generations' critiques of my generation is that the impulse to whine about the youth is as ingrained in us as is the need to breathe.
The essay, then, owes its popularity to the fact that its proper use is to express one’s personal peculiarities, so that under the decent veil of print one can indulge one’s egoism to the full. You need know nothing of music, art, or literature to have a certain interest in their productions, and the great burden of modern criticism is simply the expression of such individual likes and dislikes—the amiable garrulity of the tea-table—cast into the form of essays. ("The Decay of Essay Writing")For the most part, I like Virginia Woolf. I studied her works a couple of different times in college, and though she's hardly a "beach read" type of author, she's thoughtful and significant. Nevertheless, the aforementioned essay smacks of "old man shouts at clouds"--you know, this old thing.*
 |
| Perennial. (Source) |
In many ways, this is the natural outgrowth of the democratization of communication and the ease with which we can now share. Even Woolf's comments came to me rhizomatically, by first hitting a page by The Boston Review which quoted Woolf, and then a quick Google search to get to the (republished) essay. Embedded in "The Decay of Essay Writing", Woolf says "no one has approached the essays of Elia", and the Common Reader website conveniently inserted a link to help provide context about Charles Lamb--the man referred to by the pseudonym of Elia. Despite Woolf's disdain of anyone being able to write suddenly thinking they have something worth writing about, there's something to be said for the Digital Age's ability to generate and link content.
Nevertheless, it makes me wonder about my own writings. I know that some of what I've written has impacted people--many times it comes up in conversation ("I read your blog...", which is nerve-wracking, as I don't know which essay they're thinking of) or online via likes, comments, and total page views. In terms of "mattering", however, that is always a little tricky. And I think that's what has Woolf's petticoats in a twist: She was seeing the beginning of the rise of ubiquity. This is the fundamental problem with self-publishing. As flawed as they are, agents and publishers act as gatekeepers to try to weed-out lower quality works. By allowing every/anyone to publish a book, the amount of options increases so much that being able to discover any worthwhile writing becomes a matter of luck.
I'm not saying that I'm above the tide of intellectual detritus. Pretty far from it, as a matter of fact. My unpolished prose is done less because I think that my thoughts are so important--and therefore must be shared--than it is because it is an exercise of exposure, allowing my work to be seen, read, challenged, and dismissed. So while I understand Woolf's lamentation, I think it's a little misdirected.
Perhaps what we really need in our bloggers and essayists isn't fewer writers, but a more thoughtful, intelligent, well-read collection. I agree with her comment that much of modern "criticism" is one looking at "likes and dislikes". That's the problem with Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic aggregate websites. That sort of thinking and writing is absolutely a problem, and I've been guilty of that sort of thinking here. (And there's a right place for that sort of writing, particularly when it comes to how someone ought to expect before paying for something; that's the purpose of reviews, after all.)
And in this I definitely differ with Woolf: If anything, we don't have enough people writing. So I encourage anyone to write more and more often. Get your thoughts down, regardless of their level of polish, and don't stop creating more content. Then make that content better. And the next even better. We'll all benefit that way.
----
* Part of the reason that I'm dismissive of older generations' critiques of my generation is that the impulse to whine about the youth is as ingrained in us as is the need to breathe.