MARMALADE CHRONOFILE

Food, Shelter, Sex, Narrative

I fully allow that there are major upsides to being a male author. First, men with low sales but critical cachet snatch up a disproportionate number of plum faculty positions in academe. Moreover, there’s reverse affirmative-action at play. If, as a (white, especially) male, you’ve managed to publish a halfway-decent book, people assume you must be the second coming of James Joyce, and lavish praise accordingly. This admiration can be converted into remunerative awards and fellowships, speaking engagements, freelance assignments and translations (foreign publishers, perhaps possessing retrograde sexual politics, seem less scared off by testosterone).

This piece is agonizingly sexist overall, but this paragraph demonstrates a fundamental misunderstanding of what Weiner is even arguing. He argues that Weiner should stop complaining about women being afforded less literary prestige because women’s work sells better, at least if it’s “commercial” or “feel-good.” Then he lists EVERY WAY men are handed literary prestige in a way women are not. So, while believing he’s arguing against Weiner, he’s actually proving her exact point, and adding several more salient examples besides the notice of the NYTBR. His essay illustrates the nasty double, or even triple, standard women writers face. Women who write fiction that sells well will be denigrates as “commercial” or “feel-good.” Women who write fiction considered “literary” have little hope of ever being included our culture’s literary pantheon, nor will they have as good a chance at “plum” faculty positions or fancy grants. Women who write fiction that doesn’t fall in our society’s narrow definition of “literary” whose books (somehow!) don’t sell well - well, they don’t get anything at all.

Oh, and every woman writer has spent her entire life being told that guy over there is the next James Joyce.

The agony of the male novelist

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