Brainster
Penultimate Amazing
- Joined
- May 26, 2006
- Messages
- 21,952
A rather amusing incident has arisen regarding Wikipedia's entry on Philip Roth's novel, The Human Stain. Wikipedia writers have claimed that the inspiration for Roth's book was the actual life of Anatole Broyard. Roth claims otherwise, but apparently that's not good enough for Wikipedia:
While I found that somewhat risible, at the same time you can understand the problem. However, what absolutely stunned me was the response of a blogger at Lawyers, Guns & Money:
So far so good. But get the conclusion:
It may interesting context, but it is not the inspiration for the novel, as Roth makes clear in somewhat exhausting detail in the New Yorker piece.
Yet when, through an official interlocutor, I recently petitioned Wikipedia to delete this misstatement, along with two others, my interlocutor was told by the “English Wikipedia Administrator”—in a letter dated August 25th and addressed to my interlocutor—that I, Roth, was not a credible source: “I understand your point that the author is the greatest authority on their own work,” writes the Wikipedia Administrator—“but we require secondary sources.”
While I found that somewhat risible, at the same time you can understand the problem. However, what absolutely stunned me was the response of a blogger at Lawyers, Guns & Money:
Now that’s he’s written this letter he’s become a reputable secondary source about himself. So concludes l’affair du ou de la Parkwells. Or does it? Outside all of the usual issues with its editorial politics, Roth’s clever circumvention of Wikipedia’s citation policies points to a fundamental weakness in them. His “Open Letter” is no differ in substance from the self-published media Wikipedia bans: it’s essentially a personal website, blog post or Internet forum posting that his stature allows him to publish in The New Yorker.
So far so good. But get the conclusion:
Meaning we’re not significantly better off than when we started. Why am I going on at such length about this? Because I fancy myself an historicist and this affair addresses an issue near and dear to my heart. If I were to investigate the cultural and historical context of The Human Stain, a novel whose narrative present is the late 1990s, my researches would have turned up information about the prominent New York Times critic Anatole Broyard and the controversy surrounding his death. I would have considered the 1996 revelation that Broyard had spent his life passing to be a significant part of the novel’s cultural and historical context because it is. The Human Stain was published in an environment in which its audience, including Kakutani and Taylor, were primed to understand it as belonging to larger interest in the politics of passing at the end of the 20th Century and they were right to do so. I would have been too. Philip Roth is well within his right to identify his inspiration with all the specificity he desires, but he doesn’t have the right to alter future perceptions of his cultural and historical moment by insisting that he somehow lived outside it. It doesn’t matter when he learned about Broyard: he was still living and writing in a moment that was informed by the disclosure.
It may interesting context, but it is not the inspiration for the novel, as Roth makes clear in somewhat exhausting detail in the New Yorker piece.
