In Praise of Monson

            If nothing else, Ander Monson’s essay can be said to be very unique and risky.  Well, perhaps not risky in the traditional sense, because it was originally posted on his website, a website maintained by a published author because people who enjoy his work want to learn about him on the internet.  In a way, he had nothing to risk in terms of material goods or reputation by posting it on the internet…at worst, no one would read it (and that is a risk for an author, who thrives on people reading his work).  It’s an entirely (self-acknowledgedly) self-centered essay.  It rambles.  It does not read in a linear fashion.  Without even considering the content, those are factors that would alienate most average readers.

            Ander Monson, however, doesn’t seem to be addressing the average reader, but someone who is willing to put up with this kind of solipsistic rambling in order to appreciate the greater issues that Monson is raising.  The very existence of this essay raises a question that Monson directly states in his essay, which is whether the very tradition of paper and printing pressing affects the way we think about, write, and read works of literature.  He, in the tradition of great thinkers in the arts, poses many questions and offers very few answers. 

            Monson was certainly not the first person to ever think of such questions, even if it is probably true that he posed them in his own unique words.  He, like many writers, treats the subject as though he is bringing something novel, perhaps even revolutionary, to the table, which is the sort of audacious attitude that actually does create genre-challenging and genre-changing works.