melanie_page's review
2.0
So many people are talking about this book that I had to read and review it myself.
kim_ammons's review
Interesting but not really relevant to my interests. The focus is on literary fiction, which...blech. DNF'd at 21%.
gelbot5000's review
3.0
This book is really insightful! I enjoyed the variety of essays--the sharing of the authors' voices and experiences and their more or less advice. I learned that everyone has an opinion about MFA programs and that publishing isn't impossible, but hard. So, what I already knew, but with specific details. Also there's references to the history of the Iowa Writers Workshop, which I hadn't payed attention to before, and which I found particularly interesting.
balletbookworm's review
3.0
Somewhere between a three and a four star. I liked it, great collection of essays for or against or against both (possibly) the MFA vs NYC dichotomy, but I don't know if I REALLY liked it. I have to re-read the initial MFA vs NYC essay before I do the review because the tone is almost like "haha, pulling your leg" but the words not so much.
Side note: super-props to the cover designer because it is hella pretty.
Side note: super-props to the cover designer because it is hella pretty.
carolinamariereads's review
3.0
The MFA section contains the best-written and most on-topic essays in the book. I wasn't satisfied with the range of viewpoints represented in the NYC section—this book would be better balanced with a more commercial author's viewpoint who supports themselves financially by writing. After the MFA vs. NYC sections, the book loses focus.
It's important to note that since the book's publication in 2014, the publishing industry has had its own reckoning with the #MeToo movement. Reading the books's interview with Lorin Stein, a snippet from Stephen Elliot, and an essay about Gordon Lish is, frankly, unpleasant, knowing what we now know. The inclusion of these pieces gives an interesting insight into the attitudes toward this stuff in publishing: a brief two-page essay about Gordon Lish, who sexually harassed the writer of the essay, ends with "He's a culprit and a manipulator. I know it sounds like all I'm doing is dissing Lish. He's a prick for sure, but he did something very particular for me ... and I have to be thankful for him." I truly do not understand this attitude—is it not OK to "diss" someone who used his power to harass you?—so reading these essays and interviews is confusing but enlightening.
It's important to note that since the book's publication in 2014, the publishing industry has had its own reckoning with the #MeToo movement. Reading the books's interview with Lorin Stein, a snippet from Stephen Elliot, and an essay about Gordon Lish is, frankly, unpleasant, knowing what we now know. The inclusion of these pieces gives an interesting insight into the attitudes toward this stuff in publishing: a brief two-page essay about Gordon Lish, who sexually harassed the writer of the essay, ends with "He's a culprit and a manipulator. I know it sounds like all I'm doing is dissing Lish. He's a prick for sure, but he did something very particular for me ... and I have to be thankful for him." I truly do not understand this attitude—is it not OK to "diss" someone who used his power to harass you?—so reading these essays and interviews is confusing but enlightening.
samhoward's review
3.0
To be fair, and to be clear, this book was not written for me. I am not a writer, and I have no desire to be a writer. So much of my discomfort with this book is simply to say that I am not the target market here.
Some essays I found really fascinating, even thrilling. Others lacked the depth that I so wanted to be there. Others sounded like something I would read on JSTOR, which is fine, it just made it harder for me to come back to the book excited if I was taking a break from it.
My main complaint however, is where is the essay from a book editor? You've got agents, publicists, writers, etc, but not a book editor. That seems to be a glaring omission me.
Some essays I found really fascinating, even thrilling. Others lacked the depth that I so wanted to be there. Others sounded like something I would read on JSTOR, which is fine, it just made it harder for me to come back to the book excited if I was taking a break from it.
My main complaint however, is where is the essay from a book editor? You've got agents, publicists, writers, etc, but not a book editor. That seems to be a glaring omission me.
leighkaisen's review
Expanded from an essay of the same title, MFA vs. NYC, edited by Chad Harbach, is non-fiction on fiction, observing the two major cultures in which it lands: the university creative writing program, and the New York publishing industry. Both offer their flaws and their perks, their layers and connections and revelations. Contributing authors take a look at the underpinnings of both. They talk everything from time and cost to hard work and the pursuit of art. It was interesting to read insights into both sides of American fiction, how the university and publishing worlds intersect, how they affect each other, and where fiction is headed.
The essays that stood out to me were mostly towards the beginning; in addition to Harbach’s original essay on the topic, George Saunders’ “Mini-Manifesto” is a short but succinct take on the MFA program as “a pretty freaky but short-term immersion” with a reminder that it’s not forever, but rather “a little baptism by fire” (35). Saunders concludes with the ideal that when it comes to creative writing programs, “if they suck when we do it wrong, let’s try to not do it wrong” (38). Next, Maria Adelmann discusses the fear instilled in budding writing students when the big wigs tell them why they won’t be successful, “because no one reads short stories, because Jonathan Franzen already wrote that novel, because no one cares about your road trip.” Adelmann recalls, “We looked back at her in shock, like children who had just been told that Santa is dead” (44). However, during her time in an MFA program, she accidentally discovered a talent for art on the side, with the reminder to leave room for such discoveries. Her time spent in the MFA world didn’t produce guaranteed success or money, but, she says, “it did teach me what my time is worth” (49).
I will admit that some of the later essays reminded me I was reading non-fiction: I felt like I was reading non-fiction, with a slowly moving bookmark to prove it. However, I was amused by Carla Blumenkranz’ essay, “Seduce the Whole World” in which she likens writing to sex (you don’t say you’re going to lean over and kiss or caress someone, you just do it). This writing/seduction parallel is reinforced by a professor Lish, with rather infamous teaching methods in the university world. According to Lish, “Writing is not about telling; it is about showing, and not showing everything” (217). The essay closes with the concept that the art of seduction, while powerful, is still best when kept within its role: “A teacher, an editor, even a lover isn’t supposed to become the world, but rather to point the writer toward it” (221).
The essays that stood out to me were mostly towards the beginning; in addition to Harbach’s original essay on the topic, George Saunders’ “Mini-Manifesto” is a short but succinct take on the MFA program as “a pretty freaky but short-term immersion” with a reminder that it’s not forever, but rather “a little baptism by fire” (35). Saunders concludes with the ideal that when it comes to creative writing programs, “if they suck when we do it wrong, let’s try to not do it wrong” (38). Next, Maria Adelmann discusses the fear instilled in budding writing students when the big wigs tell them why they won’t be successful, “because no one reads short stories, because Jonathan Franzen already wrote that novel, because no one cares about your road trip.” Adelmann recalls, “We looked back at her in shock, like children who had just been told that Santa is dead” (44). However, during her time in an MFA program, she accidentally discovered a talent for art on the side, with the reminder to leave room for such discoveries. Her time spent in the MFA world didn’t produce guaranteed success or money, but, she says, “it did teach me what my time is worth” (49).
I will admit that some of the later essays reminded me I was reading non-fiction: I felt like I was reading non-fiction, with a slowly moving bookmark to prove it. However, I was amused by Carla Blumenkranz’ essay, “Seduce the Whole World” in which she likens writing to sex (you don’t say you’re going to lean over and kiss or caress someone, you just do it). This writing/seduction parallel is reinforced by a professor Lish, with rather infamous teaching methods in the university world. According to Lish, “Writing is not about telling; it is about showing, and not showing everything” (217). The essay closes with the concept that the art of seduction, while powerful, is still best when kept within its role: “A teacher, an editor, even a lover isn’t supposed to become the world, but rather to point the writer toward it” (221).
corey's review
4.0
"Well that's the strangest thing about this emotion
Even knowing our chances are small
We line up at the gate with our tickets
Thinking somehow we're different
I mean, after all..." - Brad Paisley
So, something you probably shouldn't do if you're currently paying a ridiculous sum of money to study creative writing at an undergraduate program is read this book. In fact, if you're a young person with aspirations of writing for publication, yeah, you should probably not read this book. Not because the essays aren't good, some of them--especially the ones written by Emily Gould, Keith Gessen, and Eli S. Evans--are fantastic. But you shouldn't read these essays because each one seems to take a giant shit inside of your heart.
Apparently, professional writers, with or without MFAs, seem to be pretty miserable as a whole. There's a lot of ostensible despairing that goes on in these essays. Writers have no money. This is one thing that most of the anthologized writers want you to know. Part of this, at least in several of the stories told in this collection, has to do with poor financial management. But mostly, it has to do with the fact that there's not a whole lot of money in writing these days (if there ever really was). If you go the MFA route and secure a job as a professor, great, but, at least according to the accounts disclosed here, you'll have no time to write (or if you do have time to write, it's because you suck as a professor). And then there are the two excruciatingly long critical theory essays responding to Mark McGurl's "The Program Era," both of which conclude that writing is an inherently shameful practice, so even if you write simply because you like doing it, even if you are compelled to do it by an Oatesian graphomania, with no professional aspirations, you're still a narcissist and an elitist.
So the odds are against you making it as a writer, period. As George Saunders says, there's no reason to think getting an MFA will make you a better writer. And yet not getting an MFA, as many others say, might make you less attractive to agents and publishers. And if you don't get an MFA, you should certainly live in NYC, because that's how you make connections without a degree. Except have you seen the rents for a studio apartment in Manhattan? Even Brooklyn is no longer doable for most people. And it's all the less doable because, as we're reminded in nearly every essay, to be a writer is to be without money.
But I want to be a writer. And I want to be published. I don't have to make much money off it, though money would be nice. Like all of the people who were essentially sneered at in the essay about Amazon's writing contest, writing is one of the only things I think I may be fit to do. I've read countless novels, I've read rigid critical theory, I've attended readings and written every day and done all of the stuff you're supposed to do. And so I want to be a writer. But so do the other 20 kids in my undergraduate workshop. The other day this girl wrote a story about a father who kidnaps his daughter after he's denied custody of her. It was pretty fucking good.
Even knowing our chances are small
We line up at the gate with our tickets
Thinking somehow we're different
I mean, after all..." - Brad Paisley
So, something you probably shouldn't do if you're currently paying a ridiculous sum of money to study creative writing at an undergraduate program is read this book. In fact, if you're a young person with aspirations of writing for publication, yeah, you should probably not read this book. Not because the essays aren't good, some of them--especially the ones written by Emily Gould, Keith Gessen, and Eli S. Evans--are fantastic. But you shouldn't read these essays because each one seems to take a giant shit inside of your heart.
Apparently, professional writers, with or without MFAs, seem to be pretty miserable as a whole. There's a lot of ostensible despairing that goes on in these essays. Writers have no money. This is one thing that most of the anthologized writers want you to know. Part of this, at least in several of the stories told in this collection, has to do with poor financial management. But mostly, it has to do with the fact that there's not a whole lot of money in writing these days (if there ever really was). If you go the MFA route and secure a job as a professor, great, but, at least according to the accounts disclosed here, you'll have no time to write (or if you do have time to write, it's because you suck as a professor). And then there are the two excruciatingly long critical theory essays responding to Mark McGurl's "The Program Era," both of which conclude that writing is an inherently shameful practice, so even if you write simply because you like doing it, even if you are compelled to do it by an Oatesian graphomania, with no professional aspirations, you're still a narcissist and an elitist.
So the odds are against you making it as a writer, period. As George Saunders says, there's no reason to think getting an MFA will make you a better writer. And yet not getting an MFA, as many others say, might make you less attractive to agents and publishers. And if you don't get an MFA, you should certainly live in NYC, because that's how you make connections without a degree. Except have you seen the rents for a studio apartment in Manhattan? Even Brooklyn is no longer doable for most people. And it's all the less doable because, as we're reminded in nearly every essay, to be a writer is to be without money.
But I want to be a writer. And I want to be published. I don't have to make much money off it, though money would be nice. Like all of the people who were essentially sneered at in the essay about Amazon's writing contest, writing is one of the only things I think I may be fit to do. I've read countless novels, I've read rigid critical theory, I've attended readings and written every day and done all of the stuff you're supposed to do. And so I want to be a writer. But so do the other 20 kids in my undergraduate workshop. The other day this girl wrote a story about a father who kidnaps his daughter after he's denied custody of her. It was pretty fucking good.
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