Irish writer Julian Gough writes a bracing essay in Prospect magazine, asking why comic novels are treated with disdain in the literary world. He wonders: “What is wrong with the modern literary novel? Why is it so worthy and dull? Why is it so anxious? Why is it so bloody boring?”
He cites Granta’s just-announced list of the best young American novelists, 21 writers whose work, says Granta’s editor, resounds with “death, sorrow, uncertainty and anxiety.” The editor “regrets the absence from the list of Joshua Ferris, ‘whose first novel… had the singular distinction among all these writers of making me laugh aloud quite often.’”
Lot of long faces out there. That’s what wins awards.
Gough blames, among other things, Christianity and academic creative writing programs. I disagree with at least half his arguments. In particular, I think he completely misunderstands the central story of Christianity.
Europe in the middle ages was peculiarly primed to rediscover tragedy: the one church spoke in one voice, drawn from one book, and that book was at heart tragic. All of human history, from the creation, was a story that climaxed with the sadistic murder of a man by those he was trying to save, whose fatal flaw was that he was perfect in an imperfect world.
Really, you don’t have to be a Christian to tell him: turn the page. There’s more. We call it Easter.
He also complains about novelists who emerge from university creative writing programs:
Much of their fiction contains not so much tragedy as mere anxiety. Pushed to look for tragedy in lives that contain none, to generate suffering in order to be proper writers, they force themselves to frown rather than smile; and their work fills with a self-indulgent anxiety that could perhaps best be called “wangst.”
And if any readers thought I was joking yesterday, when I said that some writers hate the idea of learning the craft of writing, here’s what Gough says:
To teach is to imply that one would not otherwise learn. Do we teach children to breathe? The illusion that there is a solution comes from the illusion that there is a problem. There is not. The forest is open. Strike out.
Yet I agree with his premise: comedy isn’t silly. Great novels can and should make us laugh. And I smiled at his suggestion as to where modern writers should look for guidance: “steal from The Simpsons, not Henry James.”
8 responses so far ↓
Kate // April 26, 2007 at 5:07 pm
Apparently Mr. Gough has forgotten his European history! His statement “the one church spoke with one voice, drawn from one book” has three major problems.
First, while the Bible was certainly the main basis for Christianity, the Middle Ages were the time when many of the great theologians wrote and several important councils pondered doctrinal questions that had answers not entirely drawn from the Bible.
Second, the church hardly spoke with one voice. This was the great age of Christian sects, claiming that the Church was mistaken in one or another of its policies and breaking off to form new churches whose doctrinal ties to the Roman Church varied. We see the beginnings of the infamous Spanish Inquisition in this period.
And as for the one church, I have just two words: Avignon Papacy.
I could go on further about his mistaken beliefs about medieval Christianity, but I think I’ll end saying that he obviously hasn’t opened an 8th grade history textbook or he’d know how erroneous his argument is.
pyrogyne // April 26, 2007 at 6:29 pm
I agree; comedy isn’t silly. In fact, the ability to write comedy is, I think, a pretty rare talent, and often neglected because it isn’t as valued in our society as the abililty to write pathos.
And I agree, too, that creative writing programs shouldn’t be so disparaged. To imply that learning to write, the ins and outs of craft, the ability to weave together elements of story or poetry, is as natural as breathing is, I think, wrong-headed. And another part of why we have so much angst-ridden navel-gazing in our literature today. If all you have to do is wave your fists at the uncaring sky in order to write award-winning work, then why should you actually learn about your craft?
Snart // April 26, 2007 at 8:30 pm
Look at the books pushed by Oprah and by other “leaders” of intellectual thought. Look at the essays that win college scholarships. The darker the story, the greater the need for atonement, the harsher the obstacles…the better.
Darn right it’s harder to write comedy. We all have different tastes in what makes us laught. But the dark side of life is fairly standard across the board. Write something uplifting, it’s called simplistic or saccharine. Write something spiritual, and you’ll find thousands of people who oppose your world view and call you a moron for espousing your own beliefs.
It’s a tough sell out there.
pyrogyne // April 26, 2007 at 9:05 pm
Oprah’s a leader of intellectual thought???
Wayne C. Rogers // April 26, 2007 at 9:29 pm
Yes, Oprah is! After all, she recommended The Bridges of Madison County to everyone a decade ago.
Snart // April 27, 2007 at 3:41 am
I wrote in jest, pyrogyne. The smirk didn’t translate digitally.
Meg // April 27, 2007 at 6:58 am
Kate, not only does Gough misunderstand church history, he misunderstands myth and story. The church may have wanted to maintain control over the text and translation of the Bible, but not solely to straightjacket the minds of the faithful. And there was no way to keep people from telling other stories… that’s what humanity has been doing since before the invention of the alphabet. Story existed long before writing did. Word (or The Word) is more than mere text.
Sounds like somebody’s been studying early modern religion 18 hours a day. I’m so glad your college tuition has been well spent.
Ellen // April 27, 2007 at 11:59 am
I’ve always felt that a good story should feel like getting in a canoe and not having to use the paddles - just float along with the current.
There wasn’t a lot of floating when I read Atlas Shrugged years ago. It was powerful, yes, but a fight to the finish. I much prefer to float than fight.
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