Am I the Literary Asshole For Being Tired of My Self-Congratulatory Liberal Book Group?

Hello, treasured readers! Welcome back to another delightful installment of everyone’s favorite drunken advice column, Am I the Literary Asshole?, a place that’s exactly like CHEERS except here nobody knows your name. I’m your host, Kristen Arnett, and I’m sending this out to you on the eve of Cupid’s birthday. That’s right, it’s almost Valentine’s Day; better get your candy orders in and get that bubbly on ice.

Speaking of bubbly, why don’t we enjoy the champagne of beers while we take a gander at today’s selections? It’s only right to clink with High Life when we’re celebrating the high life, am I right?

Pinkies up, let’s jump right in:

1) I’ve been in a post-MFA writer’s group with a handful of fellow alumni for a couple years, and one member has given up on getting published and now spends copious amounts of our time and my patience on our Zoom calls ranting against gatekeeping and elitism and so forth. He has a point, but to a limit that he’s well past.

We’ve listened, given advice, brainstormed, etc., but he basically refuses to do anything other than write angry poetry, eschewing all feedback and especially introspection and reflection, which could help him hear himself better. So. I’d like to send him a private message (we’re all far flung) and basically say Quit raging in our meetings or you’re going to get disinvited—but would that make me the literary asshole to the other writers? They’re all more passive people-pleasers who would never be confrontational. I’m willing to be the literary asshole to the rager, but not to the rest of the group. Thoughts? Drink suggestions for our next e-gathering? I might need something to get me under the table—fast…

Whooooo buddy! Starting things off with a bang!

It’s understandable that you feel worn out from dealing with this (frankly) childish behavior from someone who should know a hell of a lot better. They are throwing tantrums, that much is clear, and they’re forcing you to turn into their de facto parent. Truly uncool.

The fact you want to nip this thing in the bud makes perfect sense. If he’s using up everyone’s precious time by keeping the focus of your meetings entirely on himself (because that’s what he’s doing), then you’re well within reason to ask him—directly—to cut that shit out.

Best case scenario? He hears what you’re saying and adapts his behavior accordingly. But that’s a bit of magical thinking on my part, I fear. If his behavior has already escalated to the point that he’s no longer even engaging with fair-minded literary criticism? He’s going to take this input rather badly.

Well, you can’t control how he behaves (that’s how you got to this point in the first place), so we’ll focus on your real worry: you don’t want to step on your fellow members toes by handling this yourself. I think it’s possible that a person (or several) might not like you to engage with this person in such a direct manner, but all of this is kind of beside the point. Is anyone enjoying the meetings at all? Has it devolved in such a manner that no one gets anything of use from them? Then you know what you need to do. Better to handle it and face the inevitable fallout than to keep pushing this same annoying boulder up the hill for all of eternity. You’re a writing group, not this guy’s (free) therapy session.

I think you should rip the Band-Aid off, passive people pleasers be damned (and I bet some of them even reach out and thank you for it). As for a drink suggestion, I recommend something speedy and quick. Tequila shots couldn’t hurt.

Bravery in the face of conflict! Let’s have another beer and celebrate that! Onto our next question:

2) I am upper-middle class, white, liberal, and educated—and so is most of my local community. As a privileged liberal community, there’s a clear effort in literary circles to read works by historically oppressed and disadvantaged groups, which is wonderful and important… but at the end of the day, we’re a bunch of white middle class folks sitting in a room agreeing with one another (racism is bad, women deserve bodily autonomy, immigrants are people, we live on stolen land, and LGBTQ+ folks deserve the same rights and protections as cis-gender heterosexuals, amen).

Unfortunately, change doesn’t emerge from safe spaces like these. I think literature can be such a powerful tool to explore ideas that challenge us and to start bridging divides, especially in a world run by algorithms designed to feed our existing beliefs. Am I the asshole for feeling like we’re just in a mutual admiration society? How can I find (or build) a community that goes beyond reading outside voices to actually include voices we don’t normally hear? Better still: voices we don’t want to hear. 

I think it’s important that we continue to ask ourselves questions just like these. It’s great that you’re choosing these books (and these authors) for your gatherings. It’s good that you have conversations together about them, too. But aside from telling each other you’re doing the right thing by selecting them, not much else is happening aside from that—unless you consciously and with great conviction choose to pair this with other actions inside (and outside) of your community.

I strongly believe that we as readers and writers need to get involved in broader ways in order to get ourselves out of the social justice meme-posting trap. Posting information on Instagram is all well and good (and so is reading diverse books), but what other actions accompany this? I want you to start utilizing a phrase when you’re in these types of literary circles:

Read the book and…

The “and” is what’s important here. Aside from engaging with this work and discussing it with like-minded folks, what are you taking away from it? What are you going out into the world to do with that information? There are myriad opportunities to get involved. So, think about the last book that you read because it came from an oppressed or disadvantaged writer. What are some ways you’re willing to step outside of your comfort zone to help that writer and their community (other than just picking up the book)?

If you’re able (because many people right now are not), opening up your wallet can make a significant impact. But finding ways to get out there and actively assist will make a huge difference, too. Support food banks, look into donation drives. Your time is valuable and it can be spent helping others. I can’t tell you what or where to exactly look, because truly, each community need is different. But I assure you, as soon as you get actively involved, this feeling of the “echo chamber” will stop feeling so oppressive to you.

Let’s crack open another beer and check out our final question of the day:

3) I’m currently taking a break from writing to focus on my health, but I worry this will deplete me spiritually. Any words of advice?

Hello, friend. Thanks for writing in.

I want to go ahead and reassure you that taking care of yourself is an important part of the creative practice. I promise you will not damage yourself spiritually if you turn your focus inward to make sure that you’re well. The writing will still be there and waiting patiently for you when you return to it. If anything, this will likely give you an opportunity to engage more fully with your work. Many things feed us when we’re not actively creating. I’m a huge believer in the fact that engaging with the world around us can help us make better art. Devoting time to your own health and healing will only make your writing stronger. Be well, friend.

And that’s all the time we have for today! Join me next time when I answer even more of your anonymous questions (send them to me) and I drink a thousand gallons of beer. Be my Valentine, won’t you?

Cupidly,
Dad

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Are you worried you’re the literary asshole? Ask Kristen via email at AskKristen@lithub.com, or anonymously here.