Dirda on Books – Transcript Michael Dirda Washington Post Staff Writer Wednesday, October 20, 1999

Michael Dirda The Washington Post

Following is a transcript of the discussion.

Boston, MA: Since the literature class I'm taking is struggling through Henry James' The Ambassadors now, I'm interested to know what your favorite James work is and what work you would choose as the best introduction to James.

Michael Dirda: Hi, welcome to Dirda on books. We're starting a few minutes early today because I may, repeat may, have to leave 10 or 15 minutes for an unanticipated appointment. In the meantime, on to the questions.

Over the years I've read a lot of Henry James, always with admiration for the writing and affection for the man. Yet I can't say he's a writer I instinctively turn to. The Ambassadors is probably my favorite of his novels, if only for the advice to "live all you can. It's a mistake not to." Still my favorite works are those in the genre that James himself called the "beautiful and blessed nouvelle": The Aspern Papers and The Turn of the Screw, along with the short stories The Beast in the Jungle, Brooksmith and a few others. I'm also fond of his criticism--James is arguably our greatest critic of the novel as he is arguably our greatest novelist. About the former I am less likely to argue, though, than about the latter. Sometimes, though, I feel like Cyril Connolly who said he enjoyed reading about James more than actually reading him.

Lakeland, FL: Hello from a Florida neighbor just to the west of you.

I'm a fan of P.G. Wodehouse and Dave Barry. I have long suspected that Wodehouse was an influence on Mr. Barry. Recently I read some biographical information on Mr. Barry, which stated that his writing was largely influenced by Robert Benchley. So I purchased a book of short essays by Benchley, but found them only mildly humorous. What is your opinion of Robert Benchley's writing?

Michael Dirda: Mildly humorous pretty much describes my own reaction. But Thurber--a far greater writer, I think--once said that humorists were always discovering that Benchley had frequently beaten them to the punch on most comic ideas. I don't see a Wodehouse influence on Barry myself, though I admire his writing as you do.

Cayman Islands: After reading your review of Calvino a couple of weeks back and the excerpt provided, it struck me that we seem to lack a strong modern literary movement. I guess I am thinking back to the Beats and even the Lost Generation, both of which seemed to encourage or inspire, for lack of a better word, groupies, and whole lifestyles of their own. Do you think any group of authors today inspires such fanaticism? Does literature still have that power in our society or have other media, television, movies, the Internet, taken over that role?

Michael Dirda: This is an exciting time to be an African-American writer--there's a feeling of camaraderie and competition, publishers are hot for your books, and certain figures are media stars. so that's a kind of movement. In fact, ethnic literature--for want of a better term--continues to generate a lot of energy and partisanship, not unlike that associated with the Beats and the Lost Generation. But it's sometimes hard to see these things--we're too close. Randall Jarrell once wrote that people living in a golden age probably went around complaining how yellow everything looked.

Fairfax, Va.: Have you had a chance to look over The New Lifetime Reading Plan by Clifton Fadiman and John S. Major yet? The original book -- this update was published this past July -- was mentioned with approval by you in previous chats, I seem to recall. And didn't you say that you followed the advice in the original when you were "knee-high to a bookmark"?

Could this be a subject for a future Readings column of yours? If not about this classic guide itself, then about reading guides in general. Might make for interesting reading!

Michael Dirda: I've got the book down here, and have glanced at it a little. Major--I presume--has greatly expanded the coverage, so that it now ranges over Asian literature and contemporary writing, as well as Fadiman's original 100. It provides, thus, a lot more in the way of guidance, though perhaps with a slightly less focused viewpoint. Also, they leave out Fadiman's original introductory essay, which I used to reread as often as his entries. And yes the book did lead me toward reading the Great Books. I once wrote, five or six years ago, about how I acquired this book--through subterfuge verging on theft. I like to think that a life of reading is built upon a criminal act, albeit an extremely trivial one.

Arlington, VA: Your colleague Mr. Yardley frequently takes swipes at the arrogance of the Academy, particularly in regard to literary theory. I realize it is a temporary gig, but I was wondering if your current teaching position has given you fresh insight into the question.

Michael Dirda: In general, I've always believed that a university needs to balance tradition and innovation. That is, we need to teach the classics, the great patterning works of literature, but we also need to encourage new ideas, new approaches, new voices. At the moment, theory continues to be the hot area (not to say hot button) in university life--I have no problem with this, so long as students are still instructed in primary texts. You can be a Marxist, Lacanian or feminist or queer theorist and still teach Milton, Dickinson, Proust and Homer. My worry is that students will learn their Derrida and never read Dante. This seems skewed to me. For the most part, I find my colleagues here to be sensible, intelligent and enthusiastic.

Glen Burnie, MD: I'd like to get your take on two noted U.S. authors: Gaddis and Pynchon. The Recognitions and Gravity's Rainbow are easily the most perplexing books I've read. I'm not sure I like them but many others swear by these two authors. What do you think: merely top-notch stylists or true masters?

Michael Dirda: I find The Recognitions deeply engaging, and Gravity's Rainbow rather a chore much of the time (on the other hand, I deeply admire Mason and Dixon). Your final question though is a tricky one. Certainly a good many younger writers look to Pynchon--and GR in particular--as a model--post-modernists, cyberpunk science fiction writers, ambitious mega-novelists. So in that case Pynchon is a true master. Gaddis has always had slightly less of an impact, I think, though I suspect Pynchon probably learned a lot from reading The Recognitions. Right now I think Gaddis the greater writer. Certainly both are worth the time you spend with them. Nobody ever said that Dante or Ulysses were as easy to read as Stephen King.

Ed in Dublin, Ireland: I'm a big fan of Betty Macdonald, the author of The Egg and I -1948-, a best-selling -and very funny-account of her life on a chicken farm in the Pacific Northwest. She also wrote several other autobiographical books, as well as the Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle children's books. Whenever I reread her books -- or those by one of my other favorite writers, Barbara Pym -- I am struck by how good their writing was then -1940s-50s- and how fresh it seems to me today. I do not get the same sense of quality from the books I pick off the shelves in the bookstores these days, however. Do you think there has been a decline in the quality of writing over the past few decades? -You said yourself a while back that you tend to not read much published after 1948....-

Michael Dirda: First, if I gave the impression I didn't read much published after 1948, that was a misunderstanding. Most of my reading is of contemporary authors--it has to be, because of my job. That said, the period from roughly 1880 to 1960 was the great age of popular fiction--craftsmanlike writing intended for the general public. Figures like Marquand, Wodehouse, the New Yorker humorists, etc. wrote for the growing middlebrow market, and they aimed to please. They thought of themselves as literary entertainers, and brought all their skills to that end. So, yes, the writing of the '40s tends to be agreeable, ingratiating and civilized. It doesn't often push the limits of genre or style or ambition--but then some days we want to read Agatha Christie and some days we want to read Robert Coover.

Albuquerque, NM: Hi Michael, Great forum for talking books. Have you ever read the Maqroll the Gaviero series by Columbian poet Alvaro Mutis? What did you think? Thanks.

Michael Dirda: Nope, we did give a couple of the translated volumes good reviews though. Should I try Mutis?

DC: Since you mentioned that you find Dave Barry funny, I was wondering if you'd read his first novel and if you have, what you think? I just finished it and thought he made the transition into fiction very well. Of course, as a Miami girl I especially appreciated his accurate portrayal of my birthplace, a character unto itself.

Michael Dirda: Haven't read it, I'm afraid. I'm somewhat cut off from the buzz of Book world while I'm here in Florida teaching. But I'm not surprised his novel is a lot of fun (I'm presuming it's funny).

Norge, VA: Mr. Dirda,

I enjoyed Mark Helprin's A Winter's Tale and A Soldier of the Great War, but I found his speech writing for the Dole campaign so distasteful that I can't bring myself to read any more of his work. Do you think there is or should be some relationship between an author's works and the other parts of his or her life? Or is the artistic work something completely separate?

Michael Dirda: Tough question, much debated. If you're Jewish, it must be hard to admire an anti-Semite like Celine--though I've several Jewish friends who are great fans of Journey to the End of Night. Recently T.S. Eliot has come under renewed scrutiny because of his anti-Semitic remarks and attitudes (which he later categorically rejected). But I suppose one must somehow forgive such flaws of character, else feminists could never read Flaubert, etc. All artists tend to lead messy, inappropriate lives. In my own case, I've been leery about meeting authors I admire in the flesh. A friend who loved V.S. Naipaul's work was once insulted by the writer and couldn't look at the man's books again for years. Yeats spoke about perfection of the life or of the works--if you want purity, you'll never find it in anyone's life.

Fairfax, VA: I have recently found in used bookstores some high quality - very stiff cardboard covers -paperbacks published by Time-Life books, although I can't tell with any certainty when they were issued. These include some of my favorite authors - Joyce Cary, B. Traven, Fitzroy MacLean, etc. They are great and cheap! What do you know about this series and do you know if there is a list anywhere of everything published in this series? Thanks for your help.

Michael Dirda: This series is called something like thee Time/Warner Reading Editions, and they are very handsome to look at. Sometimes the covers break or crack when reading because of the stiffness of cardboard and finish. Most have good introductions, and some even come with special notes by the author. A few bookstores shelve them in special sections, so I suspect they are collected. Have you tried looking online for information? There might be a club or group devoted to this series. I have a few of them, in particular Nabokov's Invitation to a Beheading, which for years was hard to find in any other edition.

DC: Hi Michael,

I really enjoy the chat, and I was thinking about the comments about Dante being harder to read than Stephen King. I'm usually willing to work pretty hard to read a book, but I'm not sure when enough is enough. For example, I kept trying to finish Faulkner's Light in August, and no matter how much I tried to appreciate the symbolism and writing, I just couldn't enjoy it. Any thoughts?

Michael Dirda: In general, I'd work at a book so long as I felt the effort was being repaid. But reading shouldn't be a chore. You can still be an educated man or woman without having read Light in August. Better to enjoy The Code of the Woosters or The Moonstone than to feel obliged to spend all your reading time on the important books. Read the books that speak to you. But try an unexpected or demanding book from time to time. Classics tend to be classics for good reasons.

Kensington, MD: Good afternoon Mr. Dirda.

Two questions, please:

Could you give a little more insight into OuLiPo, please?

Have you read any Lawrence Norfolk and if so, what is your opinion of him? I've found my tastes run similar to yours and I really enjoyed the wordplay and plotting of Lempriere's Dictionary and Pope's Rhinoceros.

Michael Dirda: Oulipo is the French acronym for the Workshop for Potential Literature. This is a group of mathematicians and novelists who employ mathematical algorithms and other constraints in the creation of literary texts. The main writers of this school are Georges Perec, Jacques Roubaud, Italo Calvino, Harry Mathews and Raymond Queneau. All of these, it should be said, are great artists in their own right, apart from their interest in new techniques of composition. There are collections of essays about the group, but David Bellos' biography of Perec will give you a good brief summary.

I reviewed Norfolk's Lempriere's Dictionary, with much admiration. You do know that the American edition is shorter by about a fifth than the English, which is the preferred text? In hopes, I guess, of making the book move faster and seem less like a genre book, many of the fantasy elements were cut out, leaving certain mysteries unexplained. I think Norfok an amazingly gifted writer.

Centreville, VA: I enjoyed the question from Norge, VA because it is something I have thought about often. Often I find that though I admire the work, the author is difficult to admire--H.L. Mencken with his anti-Semitism and racism is another such. Picasso and Frank Lloyd Wright leap to mind in other fields of artistic endeavor.

Michael Dirda: Yes, but I think one must separate the work from the creator, if possible. But it's a tricky question: Can you have major work of art that is anti-Semitic art?

Philadelphia, PA: Lately I have seen a number of references to particular people serving as "literary executors" of writers, presumably after they pass away. What exactly do literary executors do?

Michael Dirda: I'm not entirely sure myself. I've always supposed they were the caretakers for an author's estate, making sure that the material was used properly, overseeing access, etc. Edward Mendelson, Auden's executor, has been exemplary in bringing out various editions of the poet's work and aiding scholars to study it.

Well, I must go somewhat early today. Sorry. Till next Wednesday at 2. Keep reading!

washingtonpost.com: To follow up on the Lawrence Norfolk question from Kensington, MD: If you'd like to get a feel for Norfolk's style, here is the first chapter of The Pope's Rhinoceros, from washingtonpost.com's Books and Reading section.

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