The notion of an amateur renaissance—it's easier than ever (at least, in theory) to find an audience, but harder to make money—brings to mind a transition that happened in software in the 2000s and 2010s.
In the 1970s to '90s, software came in a box and it was expensive. You threw away the cardboard packaging that existed solely to give the product shelf presence, put a disk in your machine, and hoped to hell it actually worked. Today, the best products are often open source, and can be downloaded in seconds. The idea that people could make money by "giving away" source code, fifty years ago, would have seemed insane. In the 2020s, it's almost impossible to build a relevant product unless you give away the source code.
This isn't a case of self-destructive generosity. Companies get "free development" by using open-source software instead of building (and maintaining) everything internally, and elite software engineers do better as consultants on products they "gave away" than by trying to hand-sell products themselves.
It turns out, for an elite software engineer, to be better for your career to give software away and maximize exposure—and then be able to consult for $500 per hour—than to work on closed-source products. This is one of the reasons why open-source products are usually of much higher quality than closed-source counterparts.
The open question is whether a model like this works for literature. Consulting gives elite software engineers a way to write code—good code—"for free" and still survive. I don't know what the solution is for elite writers. Given that academia is slowly collapsing, the continuing reliance on teaching positions to fill that role is probably unwise. There has to be some model by which literary excellence is rewarded, but I sure as hell haven't found it, and the climate of publishing these days shows that no one else has either.
Looking forward to this! While I was lucky to have teachers who encouraged me to read classics (I was all but ordered to finish PARADISE LOST by my exceptionally passionate high school English teacher), some of my favourite old books are ones I read out of personal curiosity.
Despite obsessively reading literary classics in my free time, a lot of my skepticism towards "Great Books" discourse comes from how prescriptive it can feel ("these are the best books ever, literature's been declining since then, and you can't disagree with the Western canon"). Pointing people towards the freedom of self-study seems like the ideal middle way.
"It’s written in her now instantly-recognizable voice; she approaches Literature in her matter-of-fact left-brain sort of way; there’s a refreshing and striking lack of pretense about the whole thing." I'll have to check out the Isaac Kolding review, because this is the perfect description of your style.
"I am not going to become Lionel Trilling—I’m not even going to become Merve Emre." Good. You should be the next Naomi Kanakia.
I love reading your pieces and it is in significant part because your voice is different from what I’d read elsewhere in the literary world. More like a friend not trying to impress, just guileless open communication. I know I’ll never get an unnecessary Kant reference, yet I will still get something interesting. Thanks, and sorry there’s little money in it.
"...As I’ve written about before, I think we’re entering a world in which literature is going to be just another fandom—one amongst many—and it won’t necessarily have the privileged position that it’s held for at least the last hundred and fifty years... That means a lot of the work of discussing literature is going to be work that people do for free. I don’t think that’s the way it should be, I just think that’s the way it is going to be..."
In previous decades, literature and commenting about literature was institutionally gated, but I don't think the gates are coming down. Writers of all kinds aren't suddenly free, they are gated within a tech platform run through algorithm and scale. The artist / critic is free to publish on any number of social platforms - so that is good - but with low barrier to entry comes a lot of noise. An overwhelming amount of noise, and an overwhelming amount of great work that is just too much to absorb.
The lack of entry barrier is quite a barrier itself, and comes full circle in a way to the Cheever you described, which is an artist modifying his form to maintain attention on the platform of his day.
I don't mean to be cynical - your work found me and I read and very much enjoy it. Simply put, the more things change, might they be staying the same?
Congrats on the Kirkus review! When I was selecting books for libraries I always appreciated Kirkus. Booklist is a recommend-only journal, and it's nice to have some dissenting reports to get a better idea of what books are going to work for (at least some of) your patrons. But it's a real feather in your cap to get Kirkus to like you.
The notion of an amateur renaissance—it's easier than ever (at least, in theory) to find an audience, but harder to make money—brings to mind a transition that happened in software in the 2000s and 2010s.
In the 1970s to '90s, software came in a box and it was expensive. You threw away the cardboard packaging that existed solely to give the product shelf presence, put a disk in your machine, and hoped to hell it actually worked. Today, the best products are often open source, and can be downloaded in seconds. The idea that people could make money by "giving away" source code, fifty years ago, would have seemed insane. In the 2020s, it's almost impossible to build a relevant product unless you give away the source code.
This isn't a case of self-destructive generosity. Companies get "free development" by using open-source software instead of building (and maintaining) everything internally, and elite software engineers do better as consultants on products they "gave away" than by trying to hand-sell products themselves.
It turns out, for an elite software engineer, to be better for your career to give software away and maximize exposure—and then be able to consult for $500 per hour—than to work on closed-source products. This is one of the reasons why open-source products are usually of much higher quality than closed-source counterparts.
The open question is whether a model like this works for literature. Consulting gives elite software engineers a way to write code—good code—"for free" and still survive. I don't know what the solution is for elite writers. Given that academia is slowly collapsing, the continuing reliance on teaching positions to fill that role is probably unwise. There has to be some model by which literary excellence is rewarded, but I sure as hell haven't found it, and the climate of publishing these days shows that no one else has either.
Congratulations for all you've described: Truly stunning!
Congratulations, Naomi! Nice to have that strong vote of confidence upon publication.
Looking forward to this! While I was lucky to have teachers who encouraged me to read classics (I was all but ordered to finish PARADISE LOST by my exceptionally passionate high school English teacher), some of my favourite old books are ones I read out of personal curiosity.
Despite obsessively reading literary classics in my free time, a lot of my skepticism towards "Great Books" discourse comes from how prescriptive it can feel ("these are the best books ever, literature's been declining since then, and you can't disagree with the Western canon"). Pointing people towards the freedom of self-study seems like the ideal middle way.
"It’s written in her now instantly-recognizable voice; she approaches Literature in her matter-of-fact left-brain sort of way; there’s a refreshing and striking lack of pretense about the whole thing." I'll have to check out the Isaac Kolding review, because this is the perfect description of your style.
"I am not going to become Lionel Trilling—I’m not even going to become Merve Emre." Good. You should be the next Naomi Kanakia.
I pre-ordered months ago. So excited to read it!
I'm looking forward to reading your new book!
I think "lack of pretense" is high praise. The world of art and literature are awash in _oceans_ of pretense.
I love reading your pieces and it is in significant part because your voice is different from what I’d read elsewhere in the literary world. More like a friend not trying to impress, just guileless open communication. I know I’ll never get an unnecessary Kant reference, yet I will still get something interesting. Thanks, and sorry there’s little money in it.
Always rooting for you
"...As I’ve written about before, I think we’re entering a world in which literature is going to be just another fandom—one amongst many—and it won’t necessarily have the privileged position that it’s held for at least the last hundred and fifty years... That means a lot of the work of discussing literature is going to be work that people do for free. I don’t think that’s the way it should be, I just think that’s the way it is going to be..."
That's true for almost all literary writers as well, and I think you imply that not only in the siloed world that is underway, but especially when paired with your wonderful piece about Cheever (https://www.woman-of-letters.com/p/money-and-prestige?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email), who was constrained by the very system that funded his career.
In previous decades, literature and commenting about literature was institutionally gated, but I don't think the gates are coming down. Writers of all kinds aren't suddenly free, they are gated within a tech platform run through algorithm and scale. The artist / critic is free to publish on any number of social platforms - so that is good - but with low barrier to entry comes a lot of noise. An overwhelming amount of noise, and an overwhelming amount of great work that is just too much to absorb.
The lack of entry barrier is quite a barrier itself, and comes full circle in a way to the Cheever you described, which is an artist modifying his form to maintain attention on the platform of his day.
I don't mean to be cynical - your work found me and I read and very much enjoy it. Simply put, the more things change, might they be staying the same?
Congrats on the Kirkus review! When I was selecting books for libraries I always appreciated Kirkus. Booklist is a recommend-only journal, and it's nice to have some dissenting reports to get a better idea of what books are going to work for (at least some of) your patrons. But it's a real feather in your cap to get Kirkus to like you.