Fiction writers as a species tend to be oglers. They tend to lurk and to stare. The minute fiction writers stop moving, they start lurking, and stare. They are born watchers. They are viewers. They are the ones on the subway about whose nonchalant stare there is something creepy, somehow. Almost predatory. This is because human situations are writers' food. Fiction writers watch other humans sort of the way gapers slow down for car wrecks: they covet a vision of themselves as witnesses.
But fiction writers as a species also tend to be terribly self-conscious. Even by U.S. standards. Devoting lots of productive time to studying closely how people come across to them, fiction writers also spend lots of less productive time wondering nervously how they come across to other people. How they appear, how they seem, whether their shirttail might be hanging out their fly, whether there's maybe lipstick on their teeth, whether the people they're ogling can maybe size them up as somehow creepy, lurkers and starers.
The result is that a surprising majority of fiction writers, born watchers, tend to dislike being objects of people's attention. Being watched. The exceptions to this rule - Mailer, McInerney, Janowitz - create the misleading impression that lots of belles-lettres types like people's attention. Most don't. The few who like attention just naturally get more attention. The rest of us get less, and ogle.
Most of the fiction writers I know are Americans under forty. I don't know whether fiction writers under forty watch more television than other American species. Statisticians report that television is watched over six hours a day in the average American household. I don't know any fiction writers who live in average American households. I suspect Louise Erdrich might. Actually I have never seen an average American household. Except on TV.
So right away you can see a couple of things that look potentially great, for U.S. fiction writers, about U.S. television. First, television does a lot of our predatory human research for us. American human beings are a slippery and protean bunch, in real life, as hard to get any kind of univocal handle on as a literary territory that's gone from Darwinianly naturalistic to cybernetically post-postmodern in eighty years. But television comes equipped with just such a syncretic handle. If we want to know what American normality is - what Americans want to regard as normal - we can trust television. For television's whole raison is reflecting what people want to see. It's a mirror. Not the Stendhalian mirror reflecting the blue sky and mud puddle. More like the overlit bathroom mirror before which the teenager monitors his biceps and determines his better profile. This kind of window on nervous American self-perception is just invaluable, fictionwise. And writers can have faith in television. There is a lot of money at stake, after all; and television retains the best demographers applied social science has to offer, and these researchers can determine precisely what Americans in 1990 are, want, see: what we as Audience want to see ourselves as. Television, from the surface on down, is about desire. Fictionally speaking, desire is the sugar in human food.
The second great thing is that television looks to be an absolute godsend for a human subspecies that loves to watch people but hates to be watched itself. For the television screen affords access only one way. A psychic ball-check valve. We can see Them; They can't see Us. We can relax, unobserved, as we ogle. I happen to believe this is why television also appeals so much to lonely people. To voluntary shut-ins. Every lonely human I know watches way more than the average U.S. six hours a day. The lonely, like the fictional, love one-way watching. For lonely people are usually lonely not because of hideous deformity or odor or obnoxiousness - in fact there exist today social and support groups for persons with precisely these...
Bibliography: (1) This, and thus the title, is from a toss-off in Michael Sorkin 's "Faking It" published in Todd Gitlin, ed., Watching Television, Pantheon, 1987. (2) Quoted by Stanley Cavell in Pursuits of Happiness, Harvard U. Press, 1981, epigraph. (3) Bernard Nossiter, "The FCC 's Big Giveaway Show," The Nation, 10/26/85, p. 402. (4) Janet Maslin, "It 's Tough for Movies to Get Real," NYT Arts & Leisure, 8/05/ 90, p. 9. (5) Stephen Holden, "Strike the Pose: When Music Is Skin-Deep," ibid., p. 1. (6) Michael Sorkin, p. 163. (7) Daniel Hallin, "We Keep America on Top of the World," in Gitlin anthology. (8) Barbara Tuchman, "The Decline of Quality," NYT Magazine, 11/02/80. (9) Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America, Vintage, 1945, pp. 57 and 73. (10) Don DeLillo, White Noise, Viking, 1985, p. 72 (11) Octavio Paz, Children of the Mire, Harvard U. Press, 1974, pp. 103-18. (12) Bill Knott, "And Other Travels," in Love Poems to Myself Book One, Barn Dream Press, 1974. (13) "Stephen Dobyns, "Arrested Saturday Night," in Heat Death, McClelland and Stewart, 1980. (14) Bill Knott, "Crash Course," in Becos, Vintage, 1983. (15) Michael Martone, Fort Wayne Is Seventh On Hitler 's List, Indiana U. Press, 1990, P. ix. (16) Mark Leyner, My Cousin, My Gastroenterologist, Harmony/Crown, 1990, p. 82. (17) Miller, "Deride and Conquer," in Gitlin anthology. (18) "At Foote, Cone and Belding, quoted by Miller (somewhere I can 't find in notes). (19) There 's a similar point made about Miami Vice in Todd Gitlin 's "We Build Excitement" in his anthology. (20) Miller, p. 194. (21) Miller, p. 187. (22) Miller 's "Deride" has a similar analysis of sitcoms (in fact my whole discussion of TV irony leans heavily on Gitlin 's, Sorkin 's, and Miller 's essays in Gitlin 's anthology), but anyway w/r/t sitcoms Miller is talking about some weird Freudian patricide in how TV comedy views The Father - strange but very cool. (23) Miller 's "Deride" makes pretty much this same point about Cosby. (24) Lewis Hyde, "Alcohol and Poetry: John Berryman and the Booze Talking," American Poetry Review, reprinted in the Pushcart Prize anthology for '87. (25) I liberated this from somewhere in Watching Television; can 't find just where. (26) Fredric Jameson, "Postmodernism, or the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism," New Left Review 146, Summer '84, pp. 60-66. (27) Pat Auferhode, "The Look of the Sound," in Gitlin anthology, p. 113. (28) Miller, p. 199.
Please join StudyMode to read the full document