Nothing reminds me of this more than the New York Times, and particularly their Books Update. I know all the words they use; I'm sensitive enough to feel their tone and weight. I can perceive where I am to see import, where pathos, where drama, dilettantism versus dedication to the Arts. "Here so-and-so draws aside the curtain of this mystery; how kind! Baseball, couples' therapy and whales are our selections for the day..." Yet somehow I am uncertain that any real enlightenment is intended, even by the authors thrice removed.
This suspicion is how I guess that even should I see pre-posthumous success it will be of a different and likely more self-defined variety than grace notes in patrician rolls of fame. Too much the mongrel, I, with doggerel described.
