Writing Ben Yagoda

Ben Yagoda, a Professor of English at the University of Delaware, has been taking some heat in the letters section of the New York Times Book Review for an essay he published on authors' correspondence with their readers. Subscribers seem to have interpreted the piece as chiding them for their queries. I read the original piece and found it but an interesting airing of some attitudes towards such correspondence; it would be difficult to see it as a reproach. On the other hand, I am surely biased: I once sent Professor Yagoda a request for assistance.

While researching a piece on early sports coverage in the New Yorker, I was deeply influenced by two books: Thomas Kunkel's Genius in Disguise, a brilliant biography of editor Harold Ross, and Ben Yagoda's About Town, a comprehensive history of the magazine itself. I had dozens of articles about ice hockey from the first years of the New Yorker. As was Ross's frequent practice, he attributed them simply to "N.B." Staff writers from established magazines would moonlight at the New Yorker, and this was one way for Ross to protect their identities. In any case, my best guess was that "N.B." was Niven Busch, a young writer whose relationship was Ross was typical, as Yagoda demonstrated, in its tempestuousness.

Was "N.B." likely Niven Busch? After kicking around the idea with some colleagues, someone suggested that I ask someone else who had done scholarly work on the New Yorker. What a novel idea! It honestly had not dawned on me. One meets regularly with colleagues at conferences; one even shares ideas on listservs. But "cold calling" someone with whom I was unacquainted? As it turns out, as a fellow academic, Professor Yagoda was the obvious choice. His email address was, and is, available on the website of his department. I sent off a brief message, and he immediately sent back a short but helpful reply that was, to me, completely satisfactory. Who am I? Helene Hanff? I was not looking for a long-distance friendship, after all.

The recent death of the reclusive J.D. Salinger reminds us that some authors preserve their privacy at all costs. But academics, as writers and teachers, have a very different relationships with their admittedly smaller publics. When I spent full days in our English department, not a month went by without us getting a telephone call from some member of the local community with a question about grammar or a desire to have their poetry analyzed. I believe my opinion on poetry, certainly, is little better than anyone else's, but I took all these calls, forwarded from our administrator, with good cheer. Much of my salary is paid by the citizenry, after all. Similarly, a little spike in unsolicited emails that accompanied the release of my book on expatriate autobiography was actually quite amusing, as most of them proposed my working on other people's projects without acknowledgment or remuneration.

I find in Professor Yagoda's essay on the topic much the same opinion, though he goes further to suggest that some authors actually welcome the distraction brought by unsolicited emails. But the real question, I believe, is what happens when ones audience grows? Where I seek to sell hundreds of books, Professor Yagoda sells thousands. Would best-selling authors, authors who sell tens of thousands or perhaps hundreds of thousands of copies, lose all obligation to engage with her or his audience in this way? Is the simple volume of correspondence the only difference between these different types of writers? Because, if so, I do not find this satisfactory. The most esteemed scholars at the most elite schools teach someone, right? I know how those students access those classes, through ability and money, and often through a combination of both. If the world of "Contact Me" is, itself, as cruel, who is able to write authors whose achievement makes them less accessible?

Comments

[Mary]

Hah! imagine my surprise as, while waiting for some web pages to load, I opened up Ayn Rand's The New Left and re-read her foreword.

In it Rand explains the genesis of the assembled essays coming out in book form. She had received a letter from a reader, which is included in the foreword.

Rand states, "As a rule, I do not like practical suggestions from readers. But this was such a good idea so convincingly presented that I showed it to my publishers, who agreed with it's writer wholeheartedly."

And we see that some writers do not generally give credence to a reader's opinion. But even those who do not, when presented with a worthy idea, may take that idea and run with it. And great things may happen.

[Mary]

Professor Monk,

This post and the linked article resonated with me since just today I sent an e-mail to a cookbook author. In the last month I have written to perhaps three or four other authors. Mostly I commend them for their work. If I've reviewed the book in my book review blog, I sometimes include a link. Or I ask if they'd like to be informed when I review it. Sometimes I need help or information regarding their book or specialty. (As when you sent me tips on reading your book. Thank you.)

E-mail is definitely a convenient way to contact an author. And each author may make what they want of it.

There are some authors whose web sites I read regularly; who seem to use the web site as part of their marketing tool (Janet Evanovich for example). These authors are very welcoming in their virtual friendships with readers, and a regular reader has to remind herself that the friendship is virtual.

Other authors I've written to add information that helps a reader appreciate his book. Others just say thanks for reading. Still others I never hear from. I am not offended. It is their prerogative.

But it is always fun to hear from those who do respond. And my life is richer because of these brief exchanges.

And no, I don't think Prof. Yagoda's article is insulting or derogatory toward reader correspondence. I agree with you that he's just describing a spectrum of writer reactions to such correspondence..