When, a month or two ago, I read the following asinine remark in Ruth Franklin’s review of Michael Chabon’s new novel
I just muttered, “Eh, bug off, you supercilious vblurk.”
Ursula Le Guin’s response, “On Serious Literature,” has a little more crunch to it.
[10/14/07: edited to remove Le Guin’s ipsissima verba; she’s objecting to having the short piece reposted in its entirety. Thanks to james_nicoll for the heads up.]
Hee hee.
Considering that my reaction to this sort of prejudice is to hit the person spouting it with a piano stool, I think Ms.Le Guin has shown extraordinary forbearance. Jesus (and I am NOT blaspheming), where do these people come from?
They must serve some sort of higher purpose–if only to elicit Le Guin’s smiling, bitterly barbed irony.
She said ‘squamous’! *lurves*
It was a perfect chance to use “rugose” too–but maybe that was too obvious.
draw…
I heard Harlan Ellison once mention in a talk that clodhoppers straight off the farm with s— still covering their boots shouldn’t challenge a gunfighter with 67 notches carved into their pearl-handled six-guns to a showdown. I think that holds for anybody challenging Ursula LeGuin, too.
Re: draw…
You’re certainly right about that. Of course, it was Chabon that RF was putting the bite on. Maybe the appropriate metaphor here is something about teasing a bear’s cubs…
Re: draw…
As usual, I’m in awe of Ursula’s wit!
Love, C.
Re: draw…
It’s like a basket-hilt sword, I sometimes think: these elegant bright curves of light, a firm grip–and a point that sinks deep.
That’s just wonderful. I’ve revisited this post multiple times now to re-read it.
I should share an excerpt from Leigh Brackett’s introduction to The Best of Planet Stories where she talks about folks looking down their noses at adventure fiction, although, come to think of it, I may have quoted most of it in one of my editorials at Flashing Swords. Anyway, similar vein, but not nearly as pointed. That’s just fun do tread, that is.
I know what you mean: “sturdily driving its dark trade in heroes” etc. What a writer she was! Isaac Babel famously observed, “No iron can stab the heart with such force as a period put just at the right place.” Brackett knew exactly where to put those periods.
You know, if I weren’t already a happily married man I might have to try to get Ursula’s number …
— Steve
I know what you mean. There’s something about phrases like “the thing … reeking of rocket fuel and kryptonite, creaking like an old mansion on the moors in a wuthering wind, its brain rotting like a pear from within, dripping little grey cells through its ears” that sets my pulse racing.