GEOR.GE KONR.AD
235
own devices, that is, to the private economy. Gone are the days when
writers could count on living off one book a year for the rest of their
lives. Many writers are unemployed. This is a time of trial. Writers must
find a way to combine literature with other forms of activity and accept
the idea that they need not stick to one profession all their lives.
Books have become more expensive, readers less solvent. Trash is the
rage. People not on ly have less money for books; they have less time for
books. Literature occupies less and less space in our lives. Only now, in
retrospect, can we see it clearly: an age in the history of literature has
come to an end.
Literature has sunk to the lowest rung on the institutional ladder.
The national associations or unions of writers - long bastions of the in–
stitutionalization of literature - are on the verge of splintering into in–
terest groups. The republic of literature as a body of normative spiritual
values is a thing of the past.
Publishing is going through the same crisis as the other branches of
the economy. Literature shares in the new poverty. Still, I feel that the
period of rising book prices and falling incomes is a transitional one and
that literature will come out of it alive. We can be confident of the
emergence - a few years hence - of a stronger middle class that will not
have lost its taste for literature. Eventually cheaper technology and rising
incomes will take care of the problem.
Until then, however, seven lean years. Only the determination of a
monk will keep the continuity of a life's work going, and only the most
hardened writers among us - and the hardened amateurs - will be able
to write their way through it. Many will simply return to their roles as
professionals, earning their keep by means of one intellectual endeavor or
another and writing on the side. Those who stick it out will have to
look to private benefactors for support - agencies of civic redistribution
like charities and foundations.
Two other institutions will help to keep literature alive. One is the
press. Some newspapers have disappeared, but others spring up to take
their place, and the print and broadcast media both consume enormous
amounts of text. Moreover, by the time readers have plowed their way
through the headlines, they may well be thirsting for the relief provided
by a writer's more permanent "news" There is a need for something
more than the politician's exposition of or the se lf-procl aimed indepen–
dent's commentary on a party platform; there is a need for thoughtful,
personal views, for points of orientation in today's terrain of shaken val –
ues. There are issues that need
to
be addressed by names, reputations ,
well-formu lated texts. The power of the word is still very much alive,
and there is a market for advice. The more mobile and unsettled the
