The rhymes of terror

(Annals of an Editor, #77)

The editors of one of our Pen & Anvil journals recently received a submission which came prefaced with an unusual submission letter. Rather than speaking of the author's reason for submitting to this particular journal, or their experiences in writing and publishing, or the work itself, the author's note railed against free-verse, NEA-funded editorial debauchery, and the ascendancy of the MFA as a poetic credential.

The seven rhymed quatrains of the note made frequent allusion to the depredations of the French Revolution, with a high point of pique in this stanza:

Once marginalized, like frail Marat,
the marginalized now make the law
and journals like your magazine
send my work to the guillotine. 

This is not an author our journal had rejected, mind you; rather, this author was hoping to be published in our journal. Are we, unbeknownst to ourselves, more decapitating than captivating?

This method of introduction is not a way of putting one's best foot forward. Instead, it's rather like sitting down on a blind first date, and being harangued by our suitor for rejecting him before we begin any other conversation.

One supposes that this kind of irritated eruption originates in a history of rejection by other editors. Or has this been the author's modus operandi from the start of their career? Put some balm on that rash, buddy. We aren't the murderous tyrants you pretend us to be.

On Friedmanese and brandnames in print

We love a good, sharp repudiation of Thomas Friedman's trademark style. From a review in Rolling Stone of his latest, Thank You for Being Late:

Friedman's great anti-gift is his ability to use many words when only a few are neccessary. He became famous as a newspaper columnist for taking simple one-sentence observations like, "Wow, everyone has a cell phone these days," and blowing them out into furious 850-word trash-fires of mismatched imagery and circular argument.

Phew! Few things in reviewing are as satisfying as a swift and deserved coup de grace. This review brings to mind another one by Taibbi, written back in 2005, for NYPress.com. In it, he takes down Friedman's book The World Is Flat; we featured it on the NERObooks homepage on 08/22/17. Taibbi writes:

Friedman is such a genius of literary incompetence that even his most innocent passages invite feature-length essays. I'll give you an example drawn at random [...] On page 174, Friedman is describing a flight he took on Southwest Airlines from Baltimore to Hartford, Connecticut. (Friendman never forgets to name the company or the brand name; if he had written The Metamorphosis, Gregory Samsa would have awoken from uneasy sleep in a Sealy Posturepedic.)

Emphasis ours, to draw attention to another hobbyhorse of our: capital-letter Brand Names. Up with them we do not put.

Every week or so, it seems a blogger or columnist returns to the low-stakes question of how and whether writers should respect commercial brand names. "Use 'Kleenex' or the phrase 'facial tissue', not 'kleenex'", that sort of thing. "This easy-to-remember keystroke combination will allow you to effortlessly insert the essential symbols indicating copyright, trademark and registered trademark."

Officially, Pen & Anvil rejects this kind of etiquette. To our writers we say: Use Kleenex, kleenex, tissues or boogie-catchers, as the textual context calls for. As editors and publishers, we decline the invitation to serve as volunteer branding police. If a corporation wants our help in enforcing their preferred brand identity, they can make an offer! We'd be required to flag any such purchased copy as #sponcon, of course. Not that most marketing budgets would be able to afford our asking price...

* * *

NB: NERObooks homepaged another Taibbi take-down of Friedman, featuring his review of Thank You for Being Late for Rolling Stone on 12/05/16.