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Saturday, September 02, 2006

Writing well is the best revenge

Guest post by Sprezzatura

So you’ve heard that I was canned by The New Republic.  But you haven’t heard the whole story.

The real deal is this:  I was fired for being more clever, more creative, and more incisive than anybody else working for the magazine.  So I made up a “sock” “puppet.” So what?  For one thing, it wasn’t a very elaborate disguise.  “Sprezzatura,” as you probably don’t know if you’re a mindless Jon Stewart fan, is a term from Baldassare Castiglione’s The Courtier (1528), and it means “effortless grace,” the courtier’s most important attribute.  Sprezzatura is all about doing things brilliantly . . . and with no obvious effort.  That’s the way I write.  So when the Herpetofascists of the liberal blogosphere cry, in their hollow, self-flattering “triumph,” “‘Sprezzatura’ is really Lee Siegel,” I say, “exactly so.  That is what I have been telling you all along.”

For another thing, I didn’t write a single false word.  For instance, on August 27 I wrote,

I’m a huge fan of Siegel, been reading him since he started writing for TNR almost ten years ago.

And pardon me, but has a truer sentence been uttered since the emergence of human languages?  This is not Stephen Glass or Ruth Shalit material, people.  This is raw honesty, the real deal—just what readers like me love most about my writing.  As I pointed out in the same comment,

I ask myself: why is it the young guys who go after Siegel? Must be because he writes the way young guys should be writing: angry, independent, not afraid of offending powerful people. They on the other hand write like aging careerists: timid, ingratiating, careful not to offend people who are powerful. They hate him because they want to write like him but can’t. Maybe if they’d let themselves go and write truthfully, they’d get Leon Wieseltier to notice them too.

Again, what’s wrong with any of this?  I do write the way young guys should.  Even I say so, and I should know.

It’s not like I beat around the bush.  I was straight up and straightforward, and I wasn’t afraid to call ‘em like I saw ‘em.  I’ve been consistent and steadfast throughout.  Even back in February I was writing,

Siegel is my hero. . . .  Siegel is brave, brilliant, and wittier than [Jon] Stewart will ever be.

I’ll say it again today: Siegel is my hero.  He was writing bravely and brilliantly and wittily while you were still worrying about whether it was safe to walk around the Upper West Side at night.  What’s to apologize for?  What’s to retract?

All right, I did say, when provoked beyond endurance by one moronic commenter,

I’m not Lee Siegel, you imbecile. If you knew who I was you and your n + 1 buddies would crap in your pants.

And I suppose the first sentence isn’t exactly true.  But I was being ironic and self-effacing—two things you wouldn’t know anything about if you listen to that pompous Jon Stewart blowhard.

So the herd of independent minds at The New Republic sent me packing.  I’m not surprised.  It’s a simple law of writer physics: the star that shines twice as brightly gets fired first.  Foer and Chait and Judis and the rest got tired of being outshone, so now they can have their tiny little firmament all to themselves.  So be it.  I’m still my hero, and I’m still my biggest fan.

UPDATE:  If I were you I’d check out my terrific new blog.  H/T Blogogoebbels.

Posted by Michael on 09/02 at 03:40 PM
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