Well, hello and welcome!
I’m glad you’re joining me for another go-round of this wine-drenched, tongue-in-cheek corner of literary advice, Am I the Literary Asshole? A column devoted to looking out for your well-being in a way that mixes humor with a hint of guidance. I’m your host, Kristen Arnett, and I’m absolutely thrilled to be back at the mic. It fills me with joy to share these playful thoughts with you every couple of weeks. To be perfectly clear, this is a comedy column (yes, the jokes come first), and anything I offer here is meant for entertainment and casual amusement. Sometimes I receive messages that forget about the joke part, or they want me to solve things in a particular way. Life can be tough, I know, but perhaps channel those feelings into journaling instead of losing your temper over not getting the “right” answer. Life’s short, and alas, so is my patience.
But enough chat—let’s slow things down with a crisp white wine and enjoy a gentle breeze hinting at autumn as the leaves rustle and a couple of glasses glimmer invitingly.
Shall we move on to our first caller of the day?
1) I’m seeking a little pep talk to keep up with reading, writing, and staying involved in the literary sphere. It feels like a lot of recent releases suffer from skimpy editing and chasing the latest trend. Agents and editors are courting influencers for books, and AI is producing copy that, frankly, isn’t great (and likely relies on plagiarism). Yet major publishing houses are weaving AI into their workflows too, which makes the whole thing feel like AI upon AI, spiraling downward. My friends who read the most don’t even seem to enjoy books anymore. Everything new gets consumed rapidly and is dismissed as mediocre. People envy one another, and the global mood is bleak enough to make books seem inconsequential. So… are they really?
Every so often, we get letters like this, and while I don’t respond to every one, I do think it’s valuable to bring these concerns into the conversation now and then. The underlying issue, I suspect, is life burnout and its ripple effect on reading and art. It makes sense that this would surface given how heavy things feel in the world right now. It’s important that we address it directly.
The first point I want to challenge is your stance on AI. AI isn’t “writing” things so much as it churns out subpar material. And it is awful. These AI generations aren’t merely mediocre; they’re flat-out terrible. Here at AITLA, we’re unequivocally anti-AI (and I’d wager most of my modest savings that the same is true for the majority of people at Literary Hub). Even if many large publishers are “introducing AI” into their workflows, I’d argue that it isn’t AI all the way down. Adopting that doom-minded view would swallow us whole, and we can’t afford to live like that.
And I can hear that you care deeply, my friend. That’s why this matters to you. You’re here hoping for encouragement, and that matters too.
You mentioned that your most avid-reading friends don’t seem to enjoy books much lately. Is that really the case? I read constantly and I don’t feel that way. Sure, a few works strike me as merely okay. That happens to everyone. But there are plenty of titles that grab my attention, ignite my curiosity, and move me. There is still a lot of gorgeous writing out there. People continue to produce wonderful, heartfelt work. Could it be that you’re overwhelmed by the world and—consequently—art is catching flak from you as well?
When we move through life with the assumption that everything is broken, we end up perceiving only a desert. It’s hard to stay open to possibility when vulnerability feels dangerous in this unsettled moment. Books aren’t irrelevant. They anchor us to the world and remind us to care, to try, to engage, and to strive for change.
These aren’t small feats.
Maybe it’s time to pause and reassess your relationship with literature with an eye toward openness and opportunity. Not every book is poorly edited. Not every book is chasing after the latest fad. It isn’t true that everyone is envious of everyone else (I say this with affection; it’s not the reality). Yes, influencers do get pitched for books, but so do many other people. It’s easy to slide into an either/or mindset, but the world is richer than that binary view. Writing in the era of AI is challenging, given how deeply it has infiltrated everything—some of it beyond our control. Yet it isn’t an obstacle insurmountable. We must persist in caring about it nonetheless.
Perhaps you’ll try spending time with work that genuinely excites you, even if it’s older or something you’ve read many times before. Revisit the joy you felt when you first fell in love with reading. Reclaim your sense of possibility and move forward from there.
Grab another glass of wine—yes, I’ll take one too—and here comes the second question:
2) Am I the asshole for not reading my friends’ newly published work right away when it drops?
I genuinely enjoy all my writer friends and believe in their talent. Yet in recent years I’ve accumulated a growing pile of unread books, stories, and essays from people I know. Several factors contribute to this: I’m a slow reader; it’s hard to force myself to read something on demand unless there’s a clear reason; and I tend to save the best for last, which means I’ll postpone books I’m sure I’ll enjoy but don’t grab me immediately—perhaps because they’re long, demand a lot of focus, or tackle topics I’m not ready for.
No one is shaming me for not reading everything the moment it appears, but I’m starting to feel guilt about this backlog. I want to tell my friends that I read and loved their work, and I want to give their creations as much attention as they deserve.
Could you suggest any strategies to work through this avalanche of material so I can avoid feeling like a bad friend?
Oh, that’s actually a pretty nice problem to have. Nice problems!
First, you don’t need to beat yourself up over not consuming everything immediately. This happens to all of us, truly—especially when our social circles include a lot of writers. It means we’re drowning in work. Keeping up with every release would require sacrificing other essential parts of life—our jobs, time with family, meals, and sleep. There aren’t enough hours in the day!
That said, there are ways to establish a workable routine. Perhaps designate one day each week (or every other week) to confront the mountain in front of you. Mark it on your calendar as a regular ritual, so you build a habit of reading some of this work that’s sitting in the backlog. Once you start, you’ll likely feel buoyed by that progress, and feeling buoyant tends to reinforce a positive habit. You may find yourself naturally reading more to preserve that good feeling.
Ultimately, no one will fault you for not devouring every new release from all your incredibly talented friends. People want to feel supported, and you’re clearly doing just that by making space for their work in your life.
Happy reading, friend.
One more glass of wine, and then we’ll wrap up for today!
In place of a third question, I’m going to share a response from a bookseller who was kind enough to give me the 4-1-1 on how to handle preorder pickups at your local independent bookstore (you can read the original query in my previous column right here):
Hey there—
The bookseller writes about picking up special orders! If you’ve prepaid, you can wait as long as you like. It’s your book, and we’ll hold onto it until you’re ready. Take your time, absolutely. If you’ve simply asked us to hold a book or preordered without paying, then please be prompt with your pickup. Items held are often popular, and I hate telling someone we’re sold out when a book is resting behind the counter. The truly unreasonable behavior? Ignoring voicemails or emails! I’m amazed at how many phones have full mailboxes, and how many folks call demanding to know why they haven’t heard back when I’ve sent countless messages. Please just be cool.
And there you have it—the bookseller has spoken!
That’s all the time we have for today, friends. Join me next column for more of your wonderful anonymous questions (send them here), and I hope I’ll have a few more bottles of wine ready for us to enjoy together!
Yours in fermentation,
Dad
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Are you worried you’re the literary asshole? Ask Kristen via email at AskKristen@lithub.com, or anonymously here.
