Literary Spat in the Offing: a critic criticises a critic on his critique

Les Conquêtes Normandes d’un Tennisman Vieillissant – the third in the Confessions of an Ageing Tennis Player series – has not yet hit the clay courts of Paris, but it is already causing a minor fracas between two esteemed literary critics. Here’s Dr. Harriet Blore’s riposte to C.W. Bramble’s response to her:

To the Editor,

Mr Bramble’s florid defence of Les Conquêtes Normandes d’un Tennisman Vieillissant — printed in your previous issue — deserves a response, if only to remind your readers that literary criticism is not a branch of interpretive dance.

I am grateful, in a way, that Mr Bramble has chosen to reveal the full extent of his infatuation with chaos. His attempt to salvage coherence from a narrative built upon gibbering metaphor is impressive in its gymnastics, but ultimately unconvincing. He writes of “deliberate form unravelling itself” — I suspect he might say the same of a dropped pavlova.

Let us speak plainly. Les Conquêtes Normandes is not a novel of philosophical depth, but of literary cosplay. Its protagonist is not Camus’s Meursault with a racket, but a man-child staging an internal Wimbledon with imaginary friends and a goat. That Mr Bramble chooses to frame this as an act of theatrical courage rather than symptomatic overreach is revealing.

There is a growing trend — and Mr Bramble exemplifies it — to mistake the absurd for the profound simply because it resists paraphrase. A goat appears. A coach quotes Proust. The net whispers. None of this is difficult to understand. It is simply not serious.

What we are witnessing is not the resurgence of the European novel’s surreal tradition. It is the monetisation of eccentricity. Mr Bramble may enjoy watching the emperor serve underarm in his invisible clothes; I prefer literature that dares to wear trousers.

Sincerely,
Dr. Harriet Blore
Senior Critic, Times Literary Supplement

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Advice from the NOP Werkshop: how to make a daily micro story funny.

Think of an incident in your life and ask the following questions:

1 How old were you and when did it happen?

2 Where were you? Be specific.

3 Who were you with?

4 What can you see and what can you hear?

5 What are you doing?

6 What are you feeling on the inside?

7 What was the outcome?

Meld and compile these separate lines into a short story of no more than 100 words.

Now do something to it that will make you laugh, chuckle, smile or guffaw. Anything that tickles your funny bones which might be anywhere in your anatomy.

Don’t worry about whether it makes anyone else laugh. It has to make you laugh first of all.

You could do all sorts of things: change perspective, modify the language, make fun of yourself, subvert cliches – the list is probably endless. There are loads of websites out there which will ask you to fork out to join a course to hear the words of wisdom from a humour expert: when the truth is, you know what makes you laugh. And you can bet your life it will make it other people laugh too. As we’re only too fond of quoting William Goldman, ‘No-one Knows Anything”. So you’re in good company!

Voila, your short funny story for the day!

Please feel free to share your stories with us here!