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Cyril Connolly long ago
distinguished "coterie" literary magazines from
"eclectic." As he saw the difference, the former, founded by a
closely entwined group of people, exist to publish their work primarily, if
not exclusively. Coterie magazines are designed to serve writers who, for one
reason or another, are reluctant to submit their work to editor-strangers
they don't already know. Cot-mags typically discourage "unsolicited
submissions," if not all the time, at least during part of the year, for
lack of any concern with what others might be writing. In our time,
L-A-N-G-U-A-G-E and the mimeos
associated with the St. Marks Poetry Project would be examples of coterie
journals. "Eclectic" magazines publish work from a variety of
sources, purportedly selecting the best from what appears in their mailboxes,
regardless of the reputation, nationality, or professional affiliation of its
authors. Poetry and Partisan
Review would be examples of successful
eclectic journals. One charm of Connolly's distinction was allowing to each
side the possibilities of both editorial integrity, albeit of different
kinds, and literary influence.
In the age of grants and institutional rewards, especially in America, a
third kind of literary magazine has emerged that superficially appears to be
a synthesis, publishing a limited group of lesser-knowns along with
celebrities, generally regardless of the quality of the latter's work. Since
the celebrities often come from different, if not contrary, directions, while
the lesser-known writers strive for unexceptional acceptability, such
magazines forbid themselves the kinds of literary influence typical of great
magazines in the past. They too discourage unsolicited submissions, since the
two circles of possibly acceptable contributors are circumscribed in advance.
What are they doing, you often wonder? My suspicion is that they are designed
explicitly to please Very Important People, whether they be academic
administrators, officials at funding agencies, or other dispensers of favor.
The editors of this third kind of magazine fear integrity and thus
outstanding contributors and contributions, especially from lesser-knowns,
for the simple reason that such moves, however acceptable they might be to
both eclectic and coterie magazines, might offend the VIPS. Indeed, their
editors necessarily become solicitous of the celebrities' opinions of any
newcomers, for fear of losing not any of the latter but one of the former
from their pages.
Similarly, some literary magazines are designed to impress readers; others,
to impress current and future contributors. Neither eclectic nor coterie,
such latter journals would most appropriately be classified as
"butt-kissy." I can think of one in America whose name begins with
a C, another with a P, a third with an S, a fourth with an A; and though
their editors might publicly object to such characterizations, you know as
well as I that they would be personally pleased to know that their ultimate
motives were not misunderstood. (The first time I put the previous sentence
into print, someone responded with a completely different set of names from
those I had in mind, indicating that my critical principle had broader
applicability.) To measure how unique such magazines are to literature,
consider that no publication primarily about art or politics, even radical
politics, can be characterized in this way.
¥
Butt-kissing is a cynical strategy, to be sure, assuming that even
"distinguished intellectuals" can be more impressed with
supplicants' flattery than their excellence or integrity. However, not unlike
other cynical strategies, it has distinct practical limitations as the kissee
invariably discovers the kisser to be less attractive and less friendly than
he or she initially present themselves to be. Vulnerable to changes in power,
butt-kissers frequently discover that the objects of their focused attentions
have been replaced by someone else who, since ass-kissers instinctively treat
those above them differently from those below, was incidentally slighted in
the past. That accounts for why butt-kissing can work only so long, as
practitioners past the age of fifty-five, roughly, inevitably discover that
nearly all the recipients of their focused affection have been replaced or retired.
(Does anyone still flatter John Leonard? Theodore Solotaroff? Daryl Hine?)
Disillusioned idealists can be bitter, to be sure; but nothing can equal the
anger and self-loathing of the disillusioned cynic. He or she can't "go
public" with his story, because no one, absolutely no one, will respect
his or her history or sympathize with his or her plight, while younger
butt-kissers are already, you see, puckering their lips to plant kisses
elsewhere.
¥
Another crucial difference is between those who consciously try to publish
''what their readers want,'' or at least what they think their readers want.
''Fit'' is a key word in their editorial vocabulary. These magazines are
usually content with whatever size audience they are currently reaching. A
different class of magazines intend to challenge its readers, often
encouraging them to write protesting letters, which are featured in its pages
(and are customarily closely read). The latter are more predisposed as well
to publish the sort of texts so unusual that subscribers recommend them to
non-subscribers, increasing circulation in lieu of advertising elsewhere and
other promotions. Self-satisfied editors necessarily refuse such
opportunities.
© Richard
Kostelanetz 2009
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