1. If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the
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Indeed, but is this not also the consensual view of what an artist should do? Therefore it is in the artist's interest to declare the "edginess" of whatever s/he is doing, regardless of whether it is really challenging any status quo. Hence you end up with the spectacle of a coterie of artists who are fêted by the art establishment and its satellite of collectors, and yet who are also claiming to be doing something edgy, non-establishment. But this "consensual edginess" is exactly what the artist should be avoiding. It's no surprise that art and fashion are so intertwined.
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See, this slippage (shocking is the new not-shocking! rebelling is conforming!) is where things get boring for me. Sure, I'm as guilty as you are in perpetuating it. But it's one enormous semantic wheelspin. It takes us nowhere.
It's worth pointing out that all the writers I mentioned in today's entries are "subversive" in the wider sense I outline above. It's not a choice between "subversive" Acker and Genet and "non-subversive" Larkin and Salinger. They're all good artists, so they all subvert. The doxa, our expectations, standards of morality, and so on. They swear, they put awkward points of view, they offend. Even dear old mild codger John Betjeman did it. "Come friendly bombs and rain on Slough." How do you think they felt about that in Slough? Isn't that an incitement to murder? Would it pass muster today? Would a muslim cleric be allowed to quote it at Heathrow Terminal 5?
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Actually, according to this rather funny web page the people of Slough are vociferously calling for their own destruction.
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Spare their women for Thy Sake,
And if that is not too easy
We will pardon Thy Mistake.
But, gracious Lord, whate'er shall be,
Don't let anyone bomb me.
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