A Glimpse Into the Ideological Monoculture of Literary New York

A Glimpse Into the Ideological Monoculture of Literary New York

"For all the predictable speechifying about “diversity” that I heard at cocktail parties and literary events, I became struck by just how politically monolithic this scene really is. It’s not just that writers and editors have to be PC when it comes to their books and their public pronouncements: There also seems to be a crushing uniformity in regard to their privately held viewpoints.

Just weeks after arriving in the city, I attended a dinner party full of writers and industry folk. The subject of conversation turned to America—and, in particular, how uniquely racist and evil it is. The term “fascist” was bandied about casually—even in regard to centrist Democrats such as New York Governor Andrew Cuomo. One attendee described how much more tolerant Canada is, citing the example of a Toronto swimming pool accommodating religiously observant Muslim residents by sex-segregating swimmers at certain times. Everyone at the table agreed that this was a wonderful thing. The conversation then moved on to the television adaptation of Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale—a dystopian science fiction tale that my dinner mates unanimously agreed represented a plausible future for American women. Indeed, some indicated that we already were living this nightmare thanks to Donald Trump.

My efforts to play contrarian did not meet with success—especially when I suggested that encouraging the segregation of Muslim women might be seen in a very different light if the policy had been championed by, say, Mike Pence or Donald Trump. When I cut to the chase and asked why no one at the table seemed to feel aggrieved for women suffering under Islamic oppression, voices were raised and, well, I may or may not have been asked to leave. There were other experiences like this, and I learned to hold my tongue.

This was socially irritating. But, naïvely, I imagined that this ideological monolith wouldn’t affect my book—since my male, white, cis protagonist is a markedly unsympathetic character, and I’m not “appropriating” anyone’s voice. But this prediction proved incorrect...

The editor forwarded me the email his boss had provided: “We’re not taking on unknown white guys this year.”

An agent (who, to his credit, read my manuscript off the slush pile) scolded me for “bigotry” because the imagined world of 2036 has witnessed a successful Muslim insurrection in France. Another accused me of “misogyny” because the self-absorbed Henri has become less attracted to his aging wife. A third told me that The Absolved was a “terrific read,” but that she couldn’t represent the book because of its “distinctively male voice.” She went on to explain that the fiction-buying audience is mostly female (which I will concede is accurate) and that the book wouldn’t “resonate” with this demographic. Whether or not that is true, it furthered the sense that my book wasn’t being cold-shouldered so much for what it was, as who the author was.

What accounts for this identity-obsessed approach to publishing? Again, Scorgie’s analysis is instructive. Before New York entered its new finance-oriented gilded age, the publishing industry ranked high as a career path among upwardly mobile intellectuals. Working in the industry carried cultural cachet, as tech does today. Some of the best and brightest of past generations made their life’s work in New York offices piled high with manuscripts. But as the city evolved and the industry grew more cash-strapped, the type of intellectual who once found gainful employment in publishing left for other fields. From what I can observe, the candidates whom the industry now attracts are young elite university graduates who are not looking for money or even occupational stability. In many cases, they are former (or future) activists whose primary interest is the promotion of a progressive political agenda, and who are eager to leverage their staff positions at publishers to further that agenda.

According to a newly released analysis of U.S. survey data, only 8% of Americans hold views that mark them as “progressive activists”—versus 92% who may be classified as traditional liberals, moderates, conservatives or “politically disengaged.” Yet the high-end literary world, as I have experienced it in New York, would seem to be almost entirely dominated by, or beholden to, that 8% slice of public opinion—especially when it comes to any issue touching upon immigration, capitalism, multiculturalism or feminism. And it is hard to see how this complete lack of ideological diversity can produce anything except an echo chamber for editors own viewpoints and tastes."