Wokeness requires a degree of repression (Orjan F. Ellingvag/Corbis via Getty Images)
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According to elite cultural consensus, the great villain in America is the white male, so it’s only logical that publishing would run the toxic literary bad boys off. But this hatred is only levelled at the American man. Other talents have had better luck.
Take Roberto Bolaño. When he first appeared on the American scene in 2003 with the English translation of By Night in Chile, he was hailed by Susan Sontag as a major voice of Latin American literature. But it wasn’t until the posthumous publication of The Savage Detectives in 2007 that he became a household name among the smart set. That novel, a towering work of literary virtuosity, would go on to be a national bestseller. Bolaño, who’d died in 2004 at the age of 50 from complications due to a liver condition, became that rarest of breeds — the writer who goes by a single name.
In 2008, his short stories began to appear in The New Yorker, and the same year saw the English translation of Bolaño’s masterpiece, the 900-page 2666, completing the cycle of his major works. But the publishing world was hungry for new Bolaño, whether he was around to write it or not. More than fifteen books have been published since 2666, the most recent in February 2021. Just when you think the last novella or half-finished short story collection has been unearthed from his hard drive, another one is announced. Like Charles Bukowski, Bolaño has found a fame in death he would’ve scoffed at during his life, which he spent as a struggling poet in Chile, Mexico and Spain.
Bolaño is worthy of his place in the canon, but he would’ve had a harder time earning it had he been an American. For the US literary establishment, Bolaño’s foreignness was central to his appeal. At a time when the literary Jonathans — Franzen and Safran Foer — and what remained of the old white males reigned supreme, here was a dead Chilean poet whose seedy, often macho stories of Latin American depravity offered white liberal readers a chance to wallow in grit and grime.
Wokeness wasn’t yet a factor then, but the winds were blowing in that direction. Bolaño offered an outlet for New Yorker readers who wanted some of the “toxic masculinity” — sex, violence, and machismo — that they’d previously gotten from the likes of Roth and Mailer. Bolaño, a foreign noble savage, was the perfect guy for the role.
Bolaño’s stature has only grown over the past 20 years, even as the literary world became increasingly feminised; both readers and editors are now mostly women. It’s a trend that’s been picked up on, and even lamented, by the Times, the TLS, and the Observer. It’s almost impossible to find debut novels by American men, and especially white men, about the plight of heterosexual males.
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SubscribeHow dreadful to watch the bonfire of the vanities as the woke Liberals set out to destroy the great art, history, scientific, philosophical, industrial, political, legal, achievements of the Western male. They have no idea of the backward and savage world it would be without their genius in creating what we now enjoy. No idea as the Postmodernist Left/Liberal have rewritten history, as they write out the contributions of the White Male, and so it is lies, ignorance, bigotry, and self loathing, being taught with amazing success.
Like I’ve repeatedly said, people on the political left are always inveterate and irredeemable racists.
Correct.
This is particularly true of black writers, whose work can be misogynist, racist or just tripe and still win prize after prize.
I am a writer. At the present moment, I am sitting in a public library typing on my laptop, attached to the back of which is a sticker bearing the legend “FVCK BEING WOKE”.
For sure, the number of female authors has increased exponentially in the last 20 years, as has the number of awful and unread books. This is especially true in the US. Schlocky, trivial stories about relationships crudely disguised as serious fiction or detective stories or mysteries. American literature is at it’s lowest point ever. Diversity, inclusivity and lame mediocrity.
Thank you for that article.
This isn’t on the topic, but I had to get it off my
chestface.Lately I have noticed something: I have masks stashed all over the place. I don’t have a jacket that doesn’t have at least two or three masks in various pockets. I’ve even found a mask in one of my sneakers. I’ve found masks that were washed in the laundry and seemed completely intact when I took them out. I have masks in all my travel bags and suitcases (I only travel when it is safe to do so, and only in my own country ;-). I even have masks ready in my drone case. I have masks in the glove box, trunk and under the seat and I also have masks ready in my Vespa travel box case. I have masks at work and I have masks at home, there doesn’t seem to be a place where there isn’t a mask. But when I need one, they always seem to be missing. I’ve even found missing masks, so if you’re missing your mask, let me know, we can do a DNA test to see if it’s yours. I never thought I would have so many masks in my life. I wear a mask even though I know it’s superficial and doesn’t really stop the spread of the virus. I even sneezed once and my mask flew off, which was embarrassing because when I picked up the mask and put it back on, everyone was only more disgusted. I mean, what are you going to do, you have to do what everybody else is doing, whether it makes sense or not. Am I the only person who is sick of all of this?
What’s your mask story?
You have a Vespa?
Yes, my Italian two wheeled darling! Always there when I need her, follows me everywhere I go! Wouldn’t know what to do without her.
Think of them as face diapers.
Brilliant piece. More please.
The ‘Nouvelle’ was created for bored 18th century women with time in their hands. Thanks to the absurd Leavis and others it was promoted to the status of moral high art. No wonder Classics scholars and many others balked at establishing Literature degrees. Imagine studying light entertainment? Of course in the long run they were right. However a number of men used the form to write often remarkable texts. It has now returned to its rightful place as an irrelevant pastime for bored women.
It’s not hard to understand why the American male has turned from fiction to video games.