Thursday, July 10, 2008

Internet Killed the Writer

Has the Internet killed the joys of sitting down with a good book?

San Francisco Chronicle said the signs are ominous:

It's become a social conundrum, a cultural sore spot, a morose sign of the times. The question has been posed by agents and writers and a confused, hyperconsolidating publishing industry: What happened to all the readers? What happened to the culture of books? And the hint of fatalism, just underneath: If few truly read anymore, what of the state of the American mind? How much more dumbing down can we possibly stand? Oh sure, books still sell, product is moving like crazy, but by and large it's truckloads of self-help and how-to flooding over a precious handful of sure-hit novelists, topped off with the grand cherry that is Oprah, single handedly keeping the tepid melodramatic coming-of-age family saga alive. In between, 18 zillion copies of "Eat, Pray, Love." But overall, the message is bleak: Fewer writers of real talent are being discovered, fewer publishers are willing to take any sort of risk, and serious, literary-minded reading, that glorious pastime, that fine personal art, the immersive and transportive and beautiful intellectual fertilizer, appears to be giving way to the more addictive but far less nourishing hellbeast of new media and the Net.

Of course, it became less dire than that. Read


Anonymous volume-addict said...

I think as long as we have purists and tastemakers who care enough about reading (or art, or music for that matter), I don't think there's any need to worry. These lit-hipsters have to assert their presumed cultural superiority somehow.

3:20 PM  
Blogger frank cimatu said...

you are so fuckin right

7:20 PM  

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