Terry Teachout has successfully defended against Patrick Appel's poseur charge, and in doing so has established himself as a World Class Douche. I don't think Sullivan has an award for that title just yet. Maybe he can call it the Terry Teachout Award, for writers who enjoy the smell of their own flatulence.
Why not? Because Mr. Teachout, after comparing himself to God the Father (whose Word it was), admitted that he would be a poseur to compare himself to Jesus Christ? Or because he used a translation from a hymn, rather than from the King James? What possible relevance does that have?
Perhaps TT should have clicked the awards glossary link. I think the paragraph perfectly fits the characterization of "pretension, vanity and really bad writing designed to look like profundity."
Wait: Teachout writes an opera, sees it performed for the first time, and notes that even though he had written the libretto already, the "opera" itself didn't really exist until it was performed. The fact that this reminds him of the phrase "the word made flesh" makes him a poseur? Or means he has a messiah complex?
Some people must really want to hate "east coast elites" or something, because this strikes me as completely normal. (Well, normal if you write operas, anyway. It'd be pretty extraordinary for me.)
The defense is more ridiculous than the original post. Defending himself for describing the production of his opera using a phrase referrring to the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, he points out that it was obviously "a metaphor" because he used the phrase in a slightly awkward grammatical form that comes from a song he sang in high school chorus. Huh? It's supercilious and nonsensical at the same time.
I would suggest that thinking that what the world really needs is another opera and that you should be the one to write it, automatically makes you a poseur.
Using "the word made flesh" to describe the difference between a text and a performance of that text(or the process of actually creating a performance) strikes me as very apt. Perhaps the phrase with its obvious allusive baggage strikes the ear as too clever, but it's actually a good metaphor.
I guess I'm the only one here who reads Teachout's weekly drama reviews in the Wall Street Journal. He is a wonderful writer and a very perceptive critic.
Buchholz has a point. This thread is reminding me of the discussions at NRO: "Let's all jump on the bandwagon and feel good about agreeing with each other!" Teachout is a thoughtful, serious critic.
Teachout is a great critic, and fish are wonderful swimmers. But when fish are on dry ground their flopping is pointless, and they certainly don't make it less likely to be "tangled" with. So with critics exercising erudition in the snarkosphere. /denby shedding tear
I agree with Sam, Brian, and the others who thought the metaphor was appropriate and incisive.
I have no grudge against Patrick Appel, whose work on The Dish is quite excellent, but I do think he was wrong on this one. The quotation was patently good writing and not unduly self-aggrandizing in any fashion.It seems to me that most of the irritation comes from not being very precise in one's reading. Instead of zeroing on on the particular difference Teachout was illustrating (the difference between a book cover and a performance of an opera), many readers were struck merely by the height of the Biblical metaphor. Experiencing only that level, many have responded, "Oh, yeah? You think you're so great?"
It's an understandable error, one I've committed many times. But it's an error all the same, and Teachout is clearly in the right on this one.
UPDATE: The ongoing controversy over this posting and its predecessor has quintupled the number of midweek hits normally received by "About Last Night." Repeat after me: there is no bad publicity!
Seems to me the back and forth is doing him little but good.
"This thread is reminding me of the discussions at NRO: "Let's all jump on the bandwagon and feel good about agreeing with each other!"
- - - -
Shut up. Damn.
;)
(To describe the quick mental impression about seeing the first physical manifestation of your own work, which existed before that necessarily as only a set of (your) written directions until someone decided to follow them - to describe it as he did struck me as being spot-on, if maybe a little over the top, but if a critic and opera-writer can't be a little over the top, who can?
I mean, geezuz, the guy calling "poseur" works as a back-up to Andew Sullivan! How high must one reach from that particular place to even smack a poseur in the ankle?)
It is readily apparent that many, if not most, commenters in this thread are more or less illiterate fools.
Now there's a statement with enough hedging to decorate the grounds of the entire Fourth Estate. Somewhat like "I'm not touching you" as it might be expressed at a cocktail party. Maybe instead you could positively identify these fools, and we could see, in turn, which ones have an interesting and unnecessary opinion about your own qualities?
Nate and LaborLibert and the rest of you: Next time you want to click on the glossary or throw around words like pretension and exhibitionism (even flatulance! gracious me!), try instead spending a few minutes focused on basic literacy.
In the Teachout post originally at issue and note he is not the object of the praise for which he adapts the phrase from St. John's Gospel. Instead, he is praising Hildegard's work. The gist of the quotation, chums, is: The libretto is just words on a page until Hildegard successfully brought them to life.
For folks in a lather over somebody else's supposed pretension, you all have an awful lot of trouble with plain English.
Terry Teachout has successfully defended against Patrick Appel's poseur charge, and in doing so has established himself as a World Class Douche. I don't think Sullivan has an award for that title just yet. Maybe he can call it the Terry Teachout Award, for writers who enjoy the smell of their own flatulence.
Why not? Because Mr. Teachout, after comparing himself to God the Father (whose Word it was), admitted that he would be a poseur to compare himself to Jesus Christ? Or because he used a translation from a hymn, rather than from the King James? What possible relevance does that have?
Perhaps TT should have clicked the awards glossary link. I think the paragraph perfectly fits the characterization of "pretension, vanity and really bad writing designed to look like profundity."
I'm not actually familiar with the man, and I think I will stay that way.
Hear, hear!
I'm with LaborLibert and Nate . . .
. . . and also go to the dictionary:
poseur (n.) -- Show-off, exhibitionist. Someone who deliberately behaves in such a way as to attract attention.
Meanwhile, Patrick Appel takes the high road by linking today to TT's response and this thread.
Wait: Teachout writes an opera, sees it performed for the first time, and notes that even though he had written the libretto already, the "opera" itself didn't really exist until it was performed. The fact that this reminds him of the phrase "the word made flesh" makes him a poseur? Or means he has a messiah complex?
Some people must really want to hate "east coast elites" or something, because this strikes me as completely normal. (Well, normal if you write operas, anyway. It'd be pretty extraordinary for me.)
Terry Teachout has defended his entitlement to an entirely new category of pretension. What a ludicrous windbag.
The defense is more ridiculous than the original post. Defending himself for describing the production of his opera using a phrase referrring to the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, he points out that it was obviously "a metaphor" because he used the phrase in a slightly awkward grammatical form that comes from a song he sang in high school chorus. Huh? It's supercilious and nonsensical at the same time.
I would suggest that thinking that what the world really needs is another opera and that you should be the one to write it, automatically makes you a poseur.
k-dog - today you will be with me in paradise.
Don't mess with TT? !
I say, "don't mess with Appel" lest he bust out some of that sneaky blog-jitsu on you and make you look like a constipated pedant.Hah
Using "the word made flesh" to describe the difference between a text and a performance of that text(or the process of actually creating a performance) strikes me as very apt. Perhaps the phrase with its obvious allusive baggage strikes the ear as too clever, but it's actually a good metaphor.
Naming it the Palin award would be much more appropriate. Somebody convinced of their own greatness whose 15 minutes will hopefully soon be over.
As Al Bundy once said: "Back in high school, I would have kicked that guy's ass and made his girlfriend hold my jacket while I did it."
I guess I'm the only one here who reads Teachout's weekly drama reviews in the Wall Street Journal. He is a wonderful writer and a very perceptive critic.
Buchholz has a point. This thread is reminding me of the discussions at NRO: "Let's all jump on the bandwagon and feel good about agreeing with each other!" Teachout is a thoughtful, serious critic.
Teachout's music criticism is really wonderful.
Teachout is a great critic, and fish are wonderful swimmers. But when fish are on dry ground their flopping is pointless, and they certainly don't make it less likely to be "tangled" with. So with critics exercising erudition in the snarkosphere. /denby shedding tear
Why Ms. McArdle believes Teachout got the best of this argument is beyond me. His defense was more pedantic than the original quote.
It is readily apparent that many, if not most, commenters in this thread are more or less illiterate fools.
I agree with Sam, Brian, and the others who thought the metaphor was appropriate and incisive.
I have no grudge against Patrick Appel, whose work on The Dish is quite excellent, but I do think he was wrong on this one. The quotation was patently good writing and not unduly self-aggrandizing in any fashion.It seems to me that most of the irritation comes from not being very precise in one's reading. Instead of zeroing on on the particular difference Teachout was illustrating (the difference between a book cover and a performance of an opera), many readers were struck merely by the height of the Biblical metaphor. Experiencing only that level, many have responded, "Oh, yeah? You think you're so great?"
It's an understandable error, one I've committed many times. But it's an error all the same, and Teachout is clearly in the right on this one.
Alright, let's try again. Accusations of pedantry are like Chinese finger-traps. Teachout and his defenders should stop pulling.
From Teachout's riposte:
Seems to me the back and forth is doing him little but good.
The Word is not the word, folks.
"This thread is reminding me of the discussions at NRO: "Let's all jump on the bandwagon and feel good about agreeing with each other!"
- - - -
Shut up. Damn.
;)
(To describe the quick mental impression about seeing the first physical manifestation of your own work, which existed before that necessarily as only a set of (your) written directions until someone decided to follow them - to describe it as he did struck me as being spot-on, if maybe a little over the top, but if a critic and opera-writer can't be a little over the top, who can?
I mean, geezuz, the guy calling "poseur" works as a back-up to Andew Sullivan! How high must one reach from that particular place to even smack a poseur in the ankle?)
It is readily apparent that many, if not most, commenters in this thread are more or less illiterate fools.
Now there's a statement with enough hedging to decorate the grounds of the entire Fourth Estate. Somewhat like "I'm not touching you" as it might be expressed at a cocktail party. Maybe instead you could positively identify these fools, and we could see, in turn, which ones have an interesting and unnecessary opinion about your own qualities?
Nate and LaborLibert and the rest of you: Next time you want to click on the glossary or throw around words like pretension and exhibitionism (even flatulance! gracious me!), try instead spending a few minutes focused on basic literacy.
In the Teachout post originally at issue and note he is not the object of the praise for which he adapts the phrase from St. John's Gospel. Instead, he is praising Hildegard's work. The gist of the quotation, chums, is: The libretto is just words on a page until Hildegard successfully brought them to life.
For folks in a lather over somebody else's supposed pretension, you all have an awful lot of trouble with plain English.
Of course that "and" seems a little funny there.
But point well taken.