For art's sake

The last few weeks has seen some spirited debate and great commentary about the question of where seriousness and expectation fit into the world of crime fiction. But it was Olen Steinhauer's post after a protracted absence from his blog (explained in exhausting detail here) that really spurred me to jump back in.

He starts by recounting his early days as a writer, attempting a Great Novel like so many do and not getting anywhere. Then the epiphany hit: write something that can be enjoyed by many, and a story that moves. And it worked. But as he gets deeper in the final installment of his series, the bigger questions nag at him again:

Now, I've completed 4 books in my crime series, and am fully involved in the composition of the fifth and last book, the culmination of these years of work. So I look back and ask myself if the ambition, as Hall describes it, is still there.

It is. It's been altered--beaten and misshapen and twisted--but it still exists. I still believe that there's no reason to enter into the business of writing unless your purpose is far beyond making a living at it or simple straightforward entertainment. The purpose is to better not only your peers, but the dead writers on whom the entire edifice of literature is built. It's one of those unattainable goals--unattainable in that you'll never know if you've done it--that keeps a person working until his last breath.

...

The crime/thriller world is separated in the public mind from the literary world, so that our books are not even judged on the same merits as self-evident literary works. We have our own reviewers whose primary concern is "Does this book satisfy the need for thrills?" Not, "Is this good literature?" As if the two are mutually exclusive.

There are exceptions, of course, but the exceptions prove the rule.

Crime is in a ghetto (to use that popular phrase) of a sort. Again, there are exceptions, but the blame lies everywhere: it's partly the fault of reviewers, unable to see beyond a lurid cover, partly the fault of crime publishers, whose marketing machines are aimed solely at that ghetto, and partly the fault of writers, who don't spend enough time in this book-a-year industry rising above the expectations of the audience.

This seems like a good place to pause until the next entry. But to forestall any possible comments on this issue, I should make clear that I'm not putting my own work upon any pedestal. I, too, am part of the world, and I, too, am writing below the Greatness radar. My point is, I don't want to do it anymore. I want to get back to the big aims, get back to aiming my gun at Shakespeare.

Of course, having linked to a huge chunk of text above, all I seem to want to say in response is this: there can't be a "one size fits all" approach to writing and the business because that would involve stripping away any measure of individuality. If every person is different, why should his or her work be measured on an equal level to another? Some people are smarter than others. Some people have greater ambitions than others. Some folks will be lucky enough to sell millions, others will be just as lucky to have their work be lauded forever and a day.

And most of us can hope for something vaguely in between.

The more I think about the art/commercial debate with regards to crime fiction, the more I wonder if the only thing that transcends the genre is talent.

UPDATE: Of course, some people prefer to laugh in the face of such debate. Can't really argue with that...

Comments

[Keith]

I wonder if the only thing that transcends the genre is talent.

Yes.

I'd say more, but there is nothing more to say.

[robert ferrigno]

I think Olen's entry is an honorable and unflinching examination of where he is as a writer, and where he wants to go. He is to applauded for having the courage to return to his early self and ask if he measures up. All good writers --- and I would suggest all good humans --- should do this regularly.

My own perspective is that the ghetto exists, but it's rather a fine place. Good books, dynamic characters in high risk situations, a focus on duplicity, sex, ambition and betrayal. Hey, Olen, this IS what Shakespeare was writing about. You made it. Now relax and get back to work.

[Ingrid (I.J.Parker)]

Apart from some minor restrictions, the genre of the crime novel is as capable of achieving greatness as the literary novel. It is true that less is expected of the author, and in the beginning I found that rather reassuring because writing is learning experience. But there is nothing that restricts any of us to writing drivel. And there is everything that challenges us to reach for new heights within the genre.

[Karen Olson]

Robert's comment about Shakespeare really resonates. Who knows where the crime genre will be in 100 years...

[Shelly]

Shakespeare's works are pitch black, woven with murder, crime and sorcery. He was a genre writer of sorts, and we appreciate his genius in retrospect. An insightful artist can take any clay and fashion it into arresting sculpture. Please, enough platitudes about what is "over." I heard vampire novels were over. I heard coming-of-age doesn't sell. I hear lots of things. As anyone who has pitched to executives knows, nobody knows anything. It's all about the willingness of the radical individual to tell their story.

[Elaine]

Bravo, Olen. To thine own self be true. Isn't that how it goes?

[Elaine]

I think my post got lost-so I'll do it again.

Bravo Olen! To thine own self be true. Isn't that how it goes?

[Olen Steinhauer]

Just so I'm not misunderstood, I don't want to dis crime fiction a'tall with this stuff. Genre is utterly beside the point when it comes to good literature. The ghetto is a transient thing, because in the long run the great stuff floats. I do think, though, that the push for new heights should be raised more often than it is within the community. But living where I do I'm not really "in" the community as a lot of you are, and perhaps I'm not seeing what's already there.

[shana]

i sent this to two clients so far, and both loved it! go on storytelling.