Serves me right for reading a Twitter war early this morning. Apparently in the literary-blogoverse there’s a guy named Ed who needs to get bent, and a woman named Emily who lives to hurt people, except her heart grew three sizes one day. Or something. I’m nutshelling here. What matters is that he seems to piss people off by being hurtful about their books/blogs/written work in general, also slams them personally. Emily does (or did) the same, but has a bigger fan base on social media. (And also isn’t as flat-out creepy as Ed apparently can be, if real evidence can be believed.)

Ed’s accused of being hurtful to poor widdle Emily, who has graduated from gossip blogging to book writing. And honestly? He makes a few good points about the self-congratulatory, gimme-my-award-for-showing-up world some (SOME) Millennials live in. Problem? His essay is just as self-congratulatory and blowsy as he accuses Gould of being. And then he goes off the cracker, cheapening his argument with name calling. Pity, it’s always interesting to read a critique, until the writer stoops to curse word descriptors. Goddammit.

Meanwhile, Emily, who was taken to task by Jimmy Kimmel for not giving a shit about journalistic integrity (or source verification), is now demanding love and affection for her work, or she and her band of thugs Twitter fans will troll you until you bleed.

And this is why literature, literary discourse, and cool kids that dive into the deep end of that pool will never be things that float my boat. Reading pieces written by both sides, they just don’t seem like the kind of people I’d be happy to know. Yes, they’re witty, obviously intelligent, and in their respective pieces have a level of gossipy frankness that appeals to me. But in reading their words, it’s as if they use these positive attributes as weapons, sharpened to take down the unwary, or unhip. And it feels like every time I stumble upon a group of folks discussing liter-a-chuuuure? It’s the same face-off. Either you’re cool and totally get what the popular kids are saying, or you’re an asshat that should be reviled. (Cool kids/asshats are, of course, interchangeable, depending on the book, the group, and if the moon is in the 7th house.)

I’m too old for that shit; I prefer my Tumblr filled with those happily sharing the joys of their respective fandoms/genres/things du jour. A ☺is always better than a “they suck”. Bring forth the Harry Potter, Marvel Universe, and Game of Thrones! (Not that Wars don’t happen in genre – laws no, Tom Cullen! – but by and large there’s a general happiness that seems to be lacking in the Lit crowd.)

Thing is? I’d never be a “modern” literature nerd anyway, because that style of writing doesn’t appeal to me. The lives of people who are suffering from an ennui overdose in Williamsburg? Who cares? Not me. But that’s okay. I’m betting there’s tons of folks who are all-in for those books, and who avoid my particular horror/fantasy/alt-history favorites like the plague. Good thing we can all do the exact same thing; not read what we’re not interested in. It’s in the Constitution, I think.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to finish Dark Places. It’s a total downer with a completely unlikeable protagonist that came out several years ago. But it’s a twist on the Whodunit genre, and have to see how it plays out.

BTW, The books above? As Lit-y as I get. Otherwise my bookshelves look like this.

Hell yeah baby.