I learned something yesterday: If you’re going to write a blog about as contentious and controversial a topic as the characterization of classic characters in American fiction (and do it with alliteration), you’ve really got to grow a thick skin. Everyone has the right to disagree. And that is something I will defend unto my last keystroke. I, Isabela Morales, the Scattering’s sole author, do so swear.
See what I did there? I used my name. I did that because I personally believe that if I’m ashamed to put my John Hancock to something I publish, then it isn’t really worth publishing. But hey, we can’t expect everyone to follow that rule.
Come now, does this look like the face of a “brutish faux intellectual” to you?
Anonymity is a valuable and important part of our online experience. Why then do we, as a culture, tend to despise, denigrate, deride, and disdain people who post more-than-moderately critical comments without revealing their names? I am here to say that I believe every would-be Internet troll has the right to write unnecessarily aggressive things about academic blog posts without inspiring offense on the part of the author. Which is why I want to post this not-at-all-spiteful public letter of apology for forcing my objectionable prose on last night’s anonymous commenter. You see–
In spring 2009 I was taking a course on American humor and satire at my now-alma mater the University of Alabama. Every week, our professor assigned us brief writing assignments—analyzing either a chapter or character from the book we were reading as a class. The essays from those classes that I’ve posted on the Scattering have consistently been some of my most popular for years now (maybe because they’re possibly the only useful things I’ve published here), and if anyone can explain why my paper on Mark Twain and religious satire has been translated into Spanish more than it’s been read in English, that would be kind of cool to know.
In any case—the last book we discussed that semester was Catch-22, the bleakly funny (anti-)war novel by Joseph Heller. The short essay I posted from class was my comparison of leading man Yossarian and his glum number two, Dunbar. I flatter myself that I provided a few good pieces of evidence to support my claim that Dunbar is Yossarian’s foil; and of course, like a good little college student, I used in-line parenthetical citations for all my quotes (this was before the history department converted me to CMOS).
This all seems like a very long time ago to me, but how easily we forget that the Internet is eternal: once on Google, always on Google. And it would seem that someone found my little essay today and didn’t find it useful at all. In fact, he/she seems kind of pissed off that it exists. I hope, with this letter, written as a public post for completely non-self-indulgent reasons, I can assuage some of Anonymous’s worries.
I just wanted to let you know how very appreciative I am that you took the time to peruse my “ancient” blog posts until you found one worthy, or perhaps unworthy, as you would have it, of comment—and this especially because reading my character analysis of Dunbar in Catch-22 so clearly caused you great mental agitation and psychic pain.
As an avid reader myself, how acutely do I know the distress that comes when one is thrown into collision with unpalatable prose! Please know that I extend to you my greatest admiration and, indeed, perhaps even awe, for setting yourself at the vanguard of the Internet’s blog writing style soldiery! I don’t think that anyone who read the remarks you left on my post of 17 March 2009 could possibly imagine you as anything other but a white knight of wordpress—charging down the RSS feeds of book reviewers with the same courage and conviction that the chevaliers of old (dare I say, of olde?) charged down the jousting lists.
But because I fear that the weight of public opinion might come down against someone who hands down breathtaking accusations and criticism under the name “Anonymous,” I have decided to publish your comments more broadly—for the sake of showing every one of my readers just how much I care what they think about my writing style.
Despite this article being ancient, the following bothers me and so i’ll comment here. I hope you have relaxed your prose by now, but I’m not going to put myself out verifying.
“second only to Yossarian as a character introduced in the book” – this is annoying. Stop trying to sound pretentious when you simply mean “the second character introduced in the book.”
It doesn’t work and is appalling. Had several complaints leading up to this point, but after this sentence I stopped reading.
That being said, it’s your prerogative to write as you will. You simply come off brutish in your faux intellectualism.
Me being pretentious in front of a picture of UA’s founding librarian, my role model in all things, including 19th-century prose.
Anonymous, I completely understand why you wouldn’t want to put yourself out verifying whether or not I have relaxed my prose by reading any more recent posts, considering how dreadfully my writing style irks you. In fact, I must now regretfully inform you that my prose, if anything, has only grown more contrived, affected, and overblown in the last two years. And now that I will be entering a doctoral program in history next fall, I can only sigh and resign myself to the fact that I will doubtless be swept away by the currents of stilted academic prose by the time I’m through.
Alas! Alack! I should probably leave it at that, to spare you any more agony, but there’s just one thing–
I wonder how you found this post to begin with? Were you searching for essays about Catch-22 online? Because if that’s the case, I would trouble you just one more time to ask whether the actual substance of the essay had any bearing on your research. I hate to think that my grandiloquent diction is getting in the way of my ideas.
Oh, and if I can keep your attention for another moment (and I only make this extended reply because your browser history certainly does not include the search “cliffnotes catch 22”), I’d like to say something about that particular line that you quoted:
Educated people like you and me have probably come across the literary technique of “parallelism” before—you know, constructing your writing in such a way that the grammar of one phrase, say, echoes an earlier sentence. That’s what I was going for what I started my sentence with “Second only to Yossarian in alleged insanity, Dunbar…” and ended it with “… is also second only to Yossarian as a character introduced in the book.”
Clearly, I failed in that. Oh well, we all try these things when we’re young, don’t we?
And last of all—hopefully I haven’t taken up too much more of your time or left the taste of poor diction in your mouth, giving you that fuzzy feeling on your tongue that comes when you go to sleep without brushing—I’d like to say a few words about your word choice.
You are indeed a master wit! I don’t think I’d ever be clever enough to call a complete stranger “pretentious” while myself using terms like brutish and faux intellectualism. I can only surmise that you wanted to use satire to comment on an analysis of satire.
Which is why I love you, Anonymous. And how I do love you for this.
* If you can make it through my stilted prose and pretensions to some modicum of literacy, this, Dear Anonymous, is what we faux intellectuals like to call “satire.” Or perhaps it’s just what my mom likes to call “passive aggressive.” Why don’t you let me know.