n+1: Live at Labyrinth, Unplugged

There were no fistfights at Labyrinth Books last night. Or maybe there were, I don’t know; I left as soon as the editors of n+1 were finished talking and done with the Q&A. I didn’t stick around to listen to the grad student sycophants suck up and try to further their careers. I didn’t have the time; I wanted to come home and cook dinner for the Most Ethical Man in the World, who had decided that he didn’t want to go, and stayed home to watch a Red Sox game instead.

The young editors of n+1, who were all present except for Ben Kunkel, seem like fairly personable people. You know: presentable, charming, ludicrously articulate; some of them seemed to have a sense of humor. But I was left annoyed with them and with their magazine, which I’ve now tried to like on multiple occasions. Why is the new issue publishing reviews of books that came out ages ago, and presenting comments on these books that have been printed elsewhere ad nauseam? I take their point about blogs (basically, they don’t like them much) but – and yes, this is going to get a little meta, as I guess someone would say, since Edith is, after all, writing a blog here – the thing is, for those of us who don’t have a few grand sitting around to start our own literary journal, and/or the connections to get such a thing going and then line up a few book contracts… well, blogging is fine for some of us. I couldn’t help but feel that they were being unfairly snotty about any number of matters. I overheard a conversation after the Q&A in which one attendee commented, “These guys breathe very rarified air. Actually, you wonder if there’s enough oxygen in that ivory tower.” One suspects that if the ivory tower lacks oxygen, these men have the means to have tanks delivered.

They were asked one interesting question about why they don’t run more articles about music. Given the numbers of people who write about music, it is a good question (surely there’s no shortage of submissions?). The answer was that they don’t receive submissions that meet their standards. (I mentioned this to Ethical Man, who was surprised that they talked about music at all. I explained that in a very early issue they’d run a piece about Radiohead. Ethical Man was disgusted and pointed out that if n+1 were serious about their mission, they’d run essays on real music. I think the phrase he used was “music for grownups.” I.e., classical (or baroque, or early, whatever) music, or maybe jazz. Pop and rock music are not serious music, and Ethical Man views writing on these genres as ultimately stupid. I find this heartbreaking; years ago, when we met, the first gift I ever gave him was Lester Bangs’ Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung, which I KNOW for a fact Ethical Man enjoyed reading… so why so snotty now? Well, never mind. Edith adores him anyhow.

But the morning after, writing this piece, Edith also admits that Ethical Man’s point is valid and good. If n+1 is a highbrow, high-minded magazine, then, if they’re going to run articles about music, they should run articles about highbrow, high-minded music. There’s certainly no doubt that the sort of people who would read and write magazines like n+1 are the same people who’d listen to and maybe perform serious music. Perhaps more market research should be done? A focus group convened?

The n+1 team fielded questions you’d expect them to get: how do you guys feel about McSweeney’s? how do you feel the magazine’s voice is evolving? Etc. etc. All very dull, to this girl’s mind. I spent a vast amount of time doing a two-tone doodle in my datebook (thank god I’d remembered to bring it, or else god knows what I’d’ve done to keep from chewing my newly-manicured nails). But I did make one note of something that genuinely cracked me up:

Having spent a few minutes explaining why blogs and email and cell phones and the internet are the end of civilization as we know it, and then reading aloud an actually entertaining essay about internet porn and masturbation, someone in the audience caused a murmur of laughter to bubble up unexpectedly. No – no one farted. A cell phone rang, and the ringtone was the Who’s classic (take this, Ethical Man) “Baba O’Riley.”

Teenage wasteland, twenty-thirty-something wasteland… I look forward to seeing what n+1 and their editors are doing ten years from now.