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Online Publishing -- The Future of the Novel?

I don't know why I bothered with thatI would vigorously contend, worse than having
question mark. Of course the internet is theno gatekeepers at all. An idiot like that is
future of the novel. It's the future ofvery likely to reject good books under the
almost everything. We have to remindimpression that they're bad, and -- even
ourselves that the web is not much more thanworse -- to publish bad books under the
ten years old, and that the revolution hasimpression that they're good. And if you
only just begun. Think of where thepublish shit and tell people it's good,
automobile was after just ten years ofyou'll rapidly devalue the currency. The
existence, or the aeroplane, or movingasinine rise of the marketers -- i.e.
pictures. And think of how far they've comethose geniuses who slap fancy covers on dud
since. We have seen, so far, only a tinybooks and hype them obscenely beyond their
fraction of what the internet can and willactual worth -- might well deliver short-term
do. But I've already seen more than enough toprofits, but only at the cost of ensuring
conclude that in my own field of interest,long-term catastrophe. The public will buy
literature, the writing is on the wall forone unreadable "masterpiece", or maybe two,
the traditional paper book.I don't say thisbut after sustaining a few serious burns
in a spirit of glee or provocation. In factthey'll stop buying books altogether. And
I would be much happier if it were not thethen the culture starts to rot. Publishers
case. I love books. I love the way you canmake less money, and the less money they
read them anywhere -- on the bus, the plane,make, the less willing they'll be to publish
over dinner, in bed, racked out on the couch.anything remotely risky. Pretty soon they'll
I love the way you can flick ahead throughbe publishing nothing but cookbooks by
them if you get bored, or flick back to checkone-legged ex-Rugby stars, with the odd new
on stuff you missed. I love the way new onesnovel by some established dinosaur tossed on
smell different from old ones. Yet it isn'tas a bit of artistic garnish. A literary
hard to see how most of these things -- withculture run by people without brains might
the exception of the odor thing -- could bejust conceivably survive. But one run by
replicated electronically, with some kind ofpeople without balls is doomed.Something like
I-Pod-like device for downloaded text.this has already happened in Australia. That
Perhaps such a device exists already and Inotional class of literati which is supposed
don't yet know about it. In any case, thoseto police our book culture, weeding out the
of us brought up on paper books, those of usbad books and publishing only the good ones
with a sentimental attachment to them, will-- having first rid these of any and all
not be around forever. Pretty soon we'll havegrammatical howlers -- has died out, if
to yield the floor to a generation of peopleindeed it ever existed at all. No doubt this
for whom it's at least as natural to readhas something to do with the thinness of
things off a screen as off a page. To them,the country's population base, combined with
the whole print thing, the whole concept ofour long tradition of settling for
the hard copy, is likely to seemsecond-best in intellectual affairs. In any
superfluous. One day our grandchildren willcase, the result is that the novel in this
look back on the daily newspaper -- thatcountry is effectively dead as a form. Yes,
great wasteful slab of pulped flora thatnovels still get published here. But they're
turns obsolete a mere day after its creationlike Wile E. Coyote running on a subtracted
-- the way we look back on such quaintpiece of ground, treading air and not yet
historical objects as the penny-farthing, orknowing it. If anything remotely original and
the sheep-gut condom.If the internet is notexciting ever gets published here again, it
the future of the printed word, and thereforewill be entirely by accident. Again I have to
of the novel, then my name's not Kirkpoint to the relative merits of cyberspace.
Kinbote. In fact, I'll go one step further:It's not enough to say that the web, in such
the novelist should want the internet to bea climate, is just as good as the traditional
the future of the novel. After all, what thepublishers. It's better, because there's no
novelist craves above anything else ismaterial of which it's afraid. It excludes
control. And publishing your own stuff onnothing. Which is, I repeat, better than
your own site gives you unqualified controlexcluding just about everything on grounds
over it. There is, first of all, an absolutethat have nothing to do with quality.For a
guarantee of publication. There will be noculture to actually be a culture, for it to
intermediaries. Nobody will alter a word oflive, publishers need to invest in more than
what you have written. No grinning editorjust the established brand names. They need
will propose "working with you" on the text.to seek out new and different and risky stuff
Debates regarding punctuation need not beas well. They need to publish books that
entered into. Nobody will insert anymight fail. They need to publish, to say it
redundant comma, or remove any necessary one.plainly, a lot of books, so that we get the
Apostrophes will not be relocated from wherekind of critical mass from which, if we're
they belong to where they don't. You canlucky, one or two excellent and lasting
control line-length, font, point-size. Anythings will emerge. American culture takes a
genuine writer is bound to be tantalized bylot of shit, but what other culture could
these possibilities. Of course, there's thesustain a young novelist as prodigiously
burning question of how you're going to maketalented but downright perverse as David
money out of the thing. This is a seriousFoster Wallace? Certainly the thousand-page
question, and I'll get back to it eventually.Infinite Jest would have got short shrift
But apart from that gargantuan caveat, webfrom any publisher here. Wallace would have
publication looks in many ways like agot it straight back by return post, in a
novelist's paradise.But hang on. Isn't therecrate, at his own considerable expense. Only
an important sense in which the rise of webin a culture as broad-shouldered, as robust,
publication would spell disaster for theas America's could a writer like Wallace
novel? Because a published novel, in thethrive. There's only one other culture from
traditional sense, isn't just a novel that'swhich he might conceivably have emerged: the
been printed on paper, is it? It's a novelculture of the web, in which true talent, no
that's been vetted, that's passed muster.matter how weird it is, always seems to find
The publisher, the gatekeeper, has lovinglysome kind of audience.Remember when The
hand-selected it from a chaotic bale of farBeatles, not long before splitting up,
lesser manuscripts. Quality control has beenfounded Apple Corp., the idealistic
exerted. And without quality control, allpublishing/recording/filmmaking company that
we'd have would be an undifferentiatedwould -- so the argument went -- forever
sludge of material, about 99% of which iseliminate the artist's degrading obligation
bound to be worthless, right? Isn't that allto go down on his knees in some suit's
the web is? An unsifted mass of largelyoffice (probably yours, sneered Lennon at
valueless information, with nobody insome unlucky journalist) in order to get his
authority to guide us through it?It's a soundstuff out to the public? Apple of course
argument, in principle. But it only works infailed to deliver on that dream, because its
practice if the quality controllers know whatemployees were promptly buried under an
they're doing. And in my own country,avalanche of submissions. But think of the
Australia, there is ample evidence to suggestweb as one giant and unswampable Apple Corp.,
that they don't. There is ample evidence, incapable of publishing an infinite supply of
fact, to suggest that they're either asleepcreative work, without the mediation of those
at the wheel or brain dead. Publishing inparasitic and vaguely contemptible middlemen
this country is growing more fatuous by thewho have until now stood between the artist
day. A good half of the books published hereand the public. If the idea of infinity
are autobiographies of cricket players, orscares you, I can only repeat that it is far
celebrity memoirs that would be uninterestingpreferable to entrusting our cultural future
even if their authors could write, orto the personal tastes of some bureaucrat
reflections by former newsreaders on thewho doesn't know his arse from his elbow, but
difference between Generation X andthinks that he does. The question of which
Generation Y, or barbecue cookbooks bybooks will survive, and which ones won't, is
half-assed TV personalities. (If theyfar too important to left to a handful of
actually are half-assed, having lost anmarketers and semi-lettered literati. The
appendage or two in the course of somepublic has to be in on it to some extent.It's
unnecessary but "inspiring" journey to theprobably time for a confession. Don't get me
top of some indomitable mountain, then sowrong: this confession does not alter the
much the better, as long as they've got antruth-value of the foregoing arguments.
arm left to write the memoir.)What mattersEverything I have said remains watertight,
about books these days is whose face is onobjectively ship-shape. But here is the
the front cover, not what is written inside.confession. I am a novelist myself, and for a
In this sense at least, the web -- thatdepressing year or so I have attempted,
supposedly anarchic no-go zone of unfilteredwithout raising a single spark of interest,
information -- is in fact a rather moreto sell my masterwork to this country's
rigorous enforcer of quality control than ourmoribund publishers. And I tell you, there is
traditional publishers are. Your web page canno experience more surreal than submitting
look as fancy as you like, but if it doesn'tone's stuff, again and again, to the
deliver on content, people will hit theburnt-out remnants of an industry which,
back button. By some strange law ofalthough nominally concerned with the
publishing physics, people will, underbusiness of publishing books, has essentially
certain circumstances, pay for unreadablegiven up on the whole notion. It's like
tripe; but under no circumstances will theyshouting into a void.And so I have
read it for free.As for the highbrow stuff,indignantly published my book online, where
one of the most celebrated Australian novelsit is freely available to anyone who wants to
of recent times had a glaring error ofread it. Which is to enter another kind of
grammar in its second sentence. I repeat: invoid -- a bigger but more democratic one,
its second sentence. Is it trivial to mentionwhich has no prima facie aversion to new
this? Or does the fact that no editor pickedmaterial. On the contrary: it wants you. Or
up this howler reinforce the point that theat any rate, it doesn't not want you. It
editor as gatekeeper, as fastidious guarantorwants stuff. People want the stuff that's on
of quality control, is these days a purelyit. Some of them will come to your page. If
mythical figure. If a publishing house can'tit delivers what they want, they will stay.
even guarantee adherence to simple rules ofIf it doesn't, they will go. Most of them
grammar, its imprimatur is worthless. For allwill go. Some of them will stay. If enough
the help his editors gave him, this guy'sof them stay, then maybe your site will
novel might just as well have beenamount to something.And that's about all I
self-published on the web.Here's a pertinenthave to offer on the topic. I think I said,
anecdote for you. At a recent andback at the start of this article, that I
excruciating social function, I happened towould come back to the subject of money. I
find myself seated next to a fellow wholied, sort of. I really haven't worked that
was, and as far as I know still is, employedbit out yet. All I can do is propose, without
by a globally reputable publishing house asa great deal of conviction, that anything
a senior editor of fiction. Finding himthat's any good will eventually draw some
generally unimpressive, I generously raisedkind of audience, and that anything that
the subject of fiction, so as to let himdraws an audience will also, eventually,
riff freely on a topic he presumably knewmake some kind of money. That's my working
something about. I mentioned Catch-22. Ithypothesis. We'll see how it goes.Kirk
swiftly emerged that he'd never heard of it.Kinbote, operating from behind at least a
He thought I meant The Catcher in the Rye.brace of pseudonyms, was the key creative and
When I subsequently referred to Thomas Wolfedesign force behind home of the online novel
he thought I was talking about Tom"A Dancing Bear.
Wolfe.Having gatekeepers of that caliber is,



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