The Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP), the largest organization of its kind in North America, announced this week that it will hold its scheduled annual conference in San Antonio, Texas, this weekend — with handshaking and hugging strictly prohibited. There apparently were heated debates within the governing body of the organization over whether or not to do so, given the spread of the novel coronavirus, or COVID-10, in the U.S. Recriminations ensued between board members for and against; the Co-Director of AWP resigned. And rank-and-file members are upset. Some are quite incensed that it was not cancelled — and have decided not to attend. Others are elated that they won’t have to hug people they only know through Facebook. But panels, readings, book fair tables, etc. are being cancelled right and left, even at this late date.
This is just one very small symptom (if you will) of people’s reaction to the emergence of what is probably a new pandemic, whose lethality and virulence is a subject of serious debate. But it is clear to people that something is happening out there in the physical, biological world that may affect them or their families quite soon. If anything, the lack of definite knowledge about the virus is adding to the alarm. And we’ve seen the effect on the economy: factories in China shuttered; cranes at Long Beach idled; stock market on a roller-coaster ride. All of which makes me think about the literary economy. The AWP is a microcosm — kind of like a Sundance for writers, where deals are made, influencers and editors are sucked-up-to, and old friends re-encountered. But there are a host of other literary festivals, conferences, and happenings across N. America, where the most successful writers become the most successful writers. Not to mention book tours or even one-off readings in other cities. If all of that is shut down, what would happen? Would people actually have to rely on their own aesthetic judgments, just them and the text? We might have a lot less time to schmooze and a lot more time to read. Or will they find alternate, virtual ways to connect, where hugging is not only prohibited but impossible? It may be that not being able to go very far for very long will leave us more time to read. Having to stay home from work for two weeks with nothing else to do sounds pretty good to this writer, right about now. The coronavirus outbreak seems to me a dress rehearsal for climate catastrophe — or, perhaps, like climate catastrophe speeded up to the point where people actually take it seriously. As Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert puts it, “Many environmentalists say that climate change is happening too fast. No, it’s happening too slowly. It’s not happening nearly quickly enough to get our attention.” Our brains haven’t evolved to recognize and respond to slowly-moving threats. It’s a whole lot easier to leave a smoky room than to stop smoking. “Yeah, I know the risks. I really ought to quit” — smoking, not exercising, drinking, or any other habitual act that might eventually kill you. But next thing you know, you’re in the hospital. How did that happen?? Unfortunately, geophysical responses don’t wait for everyone on earth to become cognizant of them before they do their damage, and much of the damage is happening or definitely going to happen, given the CO2 levels in the atmosphere. At some point, long-distance travel will become so dangerous, uncertain, and expensive that few will want to do it. Coastal flooding and king tides will displace many people (not to mention venues). Distribution and delivery of books will become more expensive. Or who knows: air travel may be prohibited (though this is unlikely to happen before it won’t do any good). Pretty much all travel is banned in China right now, and the CO2 levels in their part of the world has dropped 25% already. All of which is to say that writers, editors, academics, and publishers might want to re-think what “counts.” We might want to rely less on others’ opinions of others, and more on our own opinion of their work. Or we even might want to re-consider what literature is for and what role it will have in a more expensive, dangerous, and unpredictable world.
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June 2021
Kristin Prevallet Author/Editor
I'm a writer & teacher in Lawrence, Kansas who actually believes the scientists. I wrote a book of poems called Of Some Sky that seems to have something to do with all this. |