Extremely sound arguments from Kevin...
I went to high school with Kevin Greenlee, and, in a recent letter he wrote to me, he raised some very good points about The Lost Soul Companion. Here are some excerpts from his letter. I have responded to his fantastic arguments as best as I can. (My responses are italicized.)
Kevin wrote:
"I was in Barnes and Noble the other day and saw your book. I have always felt that writing and publishing a book is such a remarkable accomplishment that whenever someone I know manages to pull it off I should buy their book as a gesture of support. Now, I don't "know" you but in a manner of speaking I once did--so I went ahead and bought it. (Of course, now that I think about it, I never really truly "knew" you at all; I sat next to you in class sometimes and I had some superficial conversations with you but I never had any idea of what the true, inner you was really like).
I want to congratulate for conceiving this book and for having the determination to write and publish it. It truly is a remarkable accomplishment and I hope you are proud of yourself for doing it. I am sure your work will be a great help to very many people--and, of course, you should be proud of that as well. With that said--reading a book is not for me a passive experience. I am such an irritable fellow that I tend to disagree with at least some of what I read and begin a sort of imaginary mental dialogue with the author in which I try to explain those parts of her work upset me. I am so irritable, in fact, that I even managed to find some things in your very fine book that I disagreed with. Since--in a manner of speaking--I used to know you (by which I mean I used to have casual superficial conversations with you) and since you were rash enough to list a Bloomington P.O. Box address I decided to take it upon myself to set this mental dialogue down on paper and forward it to you (if for no other reason so that you may use it to line your bird's cage). I liked your book very much but unceasing praise would surely bore you (and make you doubt my sincerity). This is not criticism--just a listing of some of my more disagreeable responses to certain parts of your fine book.
Is it really "widely believed" that James Dean committed suicide? I had always understood that the accident occurred because a speeding Dean swerved to try to avoid another car. And, since there was another passenger with Dean in his car, if you believe he is guilty of suicide you must also believe that he is guilty of attempted murder as well.
All of my research indicated that James Dean was the classic "chronic suicide." He lived recklessly and was on a self-destructive path. With that said, though, I must admit that I did not realize he had a passenger in his car. I'd hate to think that, as you say, he is guilty of attempted murder, but troubled people aren't always rational people. I plan to investigate this further for second and subsequent editions of The Lost Soul Companion.
You write about your friend Steve who has decided that--instead of pursuing his musical interests full time--he will enroll in law school. "And," you conclude glumly, "The world gets another lawyer." But is that really such a horrible thing? On your "lost soul" website, Travis Ames writes a message in which he seems to argue that the financial freedom he gets from his corporate job gives him the opportunity to pursue more individual, artistic endeavors. And in your book you yourself quote Bill Robertson as making much the same point. Isn't it possible that when Steve becomes a lawyer he too will find himself with the financial freedom to pursue his art?
It is certainly possible that when Steve becomes a lawyer he may finally have the financial freedom he needs to really pursue his music. One of my concerns for him is that a career in law is very demanding and he probably won't have the time to pursue his music once he is working 50 or more hours a week. Also, he has completely given up on music. He sold all of his instruments and equipment which was heartbreaking since I know how much he enjoyed those things. In Steve's mind, it was an either/or, all or nothing situation. Either law school and "adulthood" (his words, not mine!) or his music. And if he couldn't be a wildly successful musician, then he wouldn't want to do it at all. So, while he may love being a lawyer and while he may have plenty of money to do with as he pleases, I know that his decision to go to law school was, for him, a conscious decision to give up on what he loved most and that which made him truly unique--his music.
And even if he does not, there is certainly a great deal he could contribute to the world as a lawyer. Since he is your friend, I assume he is a good person with good values, a person who is not motivated by greed. He may, then, use his law degree to serve the under class or to work in environmental law or to fight the corporations who daily take over more and more of our lives or-well there's a ton of terrific things he can do. The mere fact that he has chosen to become a lawyer therefore does not strike me as a tragedy. (In the interests of full disclosure, I should perhaps reveal that I am an aspiring writer who is currently in law school).
Aha! There it is... I know lawyers are a much-maligned group, but had Steve chosen dentistry or architecture or some other very demanding, highly professional career, I would have said the same thing. And the world gets another...dentist...architect...etc. In any of those fields, he can accomplish great things, but, in the process, he is throwing away his natural talent as a musician. I just don't like that part!
You talk about the Grapes of Wrath being sent out anonymously to a bunch of agents and publishers who failed to recognize it. The point of this anecdote, I suspect, is that agents and publishers are a bunch of Philistines; I certainly don't quarrel with that. But I do have some doubts about the veracity of the anecdote. I have heard it several times before--only in each version I hear it is a different book. Once it was The Good Earth, another time it was The Yearling, another time it was The Red Pony and now it's the Grapes of Wrath. I wonder if this is just another urban legend.
Well, Professor Hardesty led me astray then... Even if it didn't happen, I'm sure it could have. Maybe I will repeat (or conduct for the first time?) the experiment so that the world can use the anecdote unabashedly. Publishers, look out!
There was, I regret to say, one part of your book that I really disliked, that actually disturbed me a bit. This is the section where you lash out at people less fortunate than yourself (pages 80-81). This short section bothered me on so many levels that I'm not sure I even know where to begin. Are you really so unsympathetic to the plight of these panhandlers?
You criticize them for judging you by your clothes but you do not hesitate to judge them by their "seemingly able bodied" appearance. But--more than that--it seems to me that you are doing to these people what you complain others have done to you. In an earlier section, you complain about how people who didn't really know you or understand the depth of your problems would tell you that all you needed was to "cheer up." In this section, you seem to be suggesting that all the panhandlers (whom you do not know or understand) need to do is find the "inner resources" to better cope in society. Isn't it possible that the reason many of them are not able to function in society is because they have problems worse than yours? And, of course, you were fortunate enough to have a caring family who helped you get therapy and medication--perhaps the panhandlers you put down were not so lucky. I just fail to understand how you can issue a blanket condemnation of an entire sub class of people you do not even know.
Those are all valid points. Certainly, I don't want to seem cruel or callous, but when I was in Santa Cruz I saw my share of "trust fund Hippies" who were very aggressively accosting passersby for money that I truly believe they could have been earning in more legitimate ways. Of course there were people on the streets trying to beat drug addiction or feed their children, but these people are not the "seemingly able-bodied" panhandlers I speak of. This may be a phenomenon you have to see to understand, and we may have to agree to disagree on this point.
The line where you compare them unfavorably to Alexander the Great strikes me a particularly unfortunate. Yes--the accomplishments of these people do not look very impressive when compared to Alexander--but who would come off looking good in such a comparison? How would you look compared to Alexander?
Instead of criticizing these people or comparing them unfavorably to one of the most accomplished men who ever lived, I suggest it would be better to try to understand and sympathize with them. If you can't do that--instead of putting them down--why not just ignore them? Why further criticize people who have already been marginalized by society?
I like to use Alexander the Great--the ultimate overachiever--when measuring accomplishments of all kinds (mine included!) because, even though it is somewhat absurd to do, it does open one's mind to giant, wild possibility.
There was another section which bothered me a bit. Not only do you criticize people lower than you in the social order but you criticize those "above" you as well (this bothers me less than your criticism of the panhandlers; the people "above" you have more power and money than you so I suspect they aren't too bothered by your criticism). The section I refer to is from page 114 {"The daughters of my parents ' friends have all married successful chemists....I hate (them)."}. I am sure that in your life you--like myself--have been subjected to criticism and disapproval because you choose to live your life in a way different from the "norm." I would have guessed this would have made you more tolerant of lifestyles different from your own. So some people--for whatever reason--panhandle. And so others marry successful chemists. So what? If it makes them happy, why "hate" them? Perhaps-though--I am reading you too literally. Perhaps you don't "hate" them but instead just hate having their accomplishments used as a yardstick to measure your success or lack thereof.
Of course I don't literally hate them, but, as you surmised, I do hate being compared to them (especially if I am feeling terribly insecure that day.) Now if they would just compare me to Alexander the Great...that'd be OK!
It seems to me that if you like the Ted Nancy books you would LOVE "The Lazlo Letters" by Don Novello. Ted Nancy ripped Novello off!
Thank you. I didn't know about Novello, but I will definitely add that to the next edition!
Your casual put down of television ("I think we should go live our lives instead of just watching imitation life on TV" page 97) also bothered me for a couple of reasons. For one thing, the line I quoted could be used to criticize ANY art form (i.e., "I think we should go live our lives instead of just reading about imitation life in novels" or "I think we should go live our lives instead of looking at paintings or drawings of imitation life" and so on).
Also, at another part of the book, you talk about the value of "escaping" into a good movie. Except for where you watch it, is there really much difference between television and the movies? Yes--I am fully aware that a good 90-95% of everything on television is worthless crap--but the same could be said of movies. If it's a good idea to escape with the "imitation life" of, say, Rushmore why isn't it a good idea to escape with the "imitation life" I can find on the Turner Classic Movies channel? Or an episode of "Sports Night"? Or whatever?
Yes, I do see your point, but I think television is an art form which has not yet lived up to its potential. I think novels and paintings and drawings (and many--but not all--movies!) strive to imitate life, but they are not "imitation life." There is a distinction to be made there.
Also, with specific regard to escaping to the movies: For me, going to see a movie is an event in and of itself. When I go out to see a movie, I generally wear clothes other than my pajamas, make myself look somewhat presentable, and am guaranteed to have some limited contact with other people (the ticket agent, concession stand guy, ticket taker, other patrons...) This is important. Also, there aren't commercials during the movie. (At least not terribly overt ones.) Very important.
I apologize for being such an ill tempered, all around disagreeable fellow.
Nonsense! I am glad you wrote. You made me consider some things very carefully. I think you are going to make a terrific lawyer, by the way.