It is a dirty little fact that readers like their authors tortured. We gobble up the myth of the suffering artist, fascinated by the Virginia Woolfs and Ernest Hemingways who kill themselves, the drug-addled Hunter S. Thompsons, the Joan Didions with turbulent lives. In fact, readers are so obsessed with the tortured writer mythology that a tumultuous life can contribute to an author's success almost as much as the quality of his or her writing.
For instance, Sylvia Plath was basically obscure until she stuck her head in an oven, only gaining legend and critical acclaim after killing herself. Conversely, leading a seemingly boring life can negatively affect a writer's career or critical importance.
Take, for example, the novelist Elizabeth Taylor: In Benjamin Schwarz's article in the Atlantic Monthly, The Other Elizabeth Taylor,"" he says that although Taylor was a talented writer, she has been completely forgotten - not only because she unfortunately shares a name with a famous actress, but because her quiet, domestic life didn't appeal ""to the literary tastemakers"" of the time.
It is even sometimes so unacceptable for a beloved author to live an ordinary life that a dramatic mythology is created around them. Take, for example, Jane Austen: Much is unknown about her life, but what is known is rather typical for the life of an upper-class spinster of her time - in other words, it was externally boring.
But this is unacceptable for some, and hence the movie ""Becoming Jane"" was made, which suggests that Austen had a dramatic, unrequited romance that inspired the plot of ""Pride and Prejudice."" Needless to say, there is little evidence to prove that such a relationship ever occurred.
Even some critics buy into the tortured-artist mystique. A recent review of UW-Madison grad Joyce Carol Oates' journals in the New York Times Book Review questions why she published her journals when they are filled with nothing but thankfulness and happiness, especially when compared with the journals of ""a tortured soul like [John] Cheever.""
However, there is an inherent problem with readers embracing the tortured artist persona. Besides the obvious problem of glamorizing suicide, mental illness and addiction, it ironically goes against the themes of many books, as most writers use their words to illuminate the lives of ordinary people. From books by Charles Dickens to Lorrie Moore, most stories are about the beauty, nuances or dissonances found in seemingly commonplace lives.
So here is my plea to the reading community: Please give writers the same consideration they give their subjects. A writer's success should not rest on how intriguing their personas are, and if a writer has a seemingly boring life, we should take a cue from books and look beyond the surface. Many writers who lived a mild life on the outside, like Charlotte Bronte, lived a vivid life of the mind, taking keen observation of the everyday things around them.
When we read something that moves us, we are naturally interested in the source (I, for one, am obsessed with reading author bios), and it can disappoint us when the author doesn't lead an external life as interesting as their books. But let's give the Joyce Carol Oateses of the writing world a break and not disdain them for leading a happy life.
Intrigued by the tortured artist persona? Learn more by e-mailing Anna at akwilliams1@wisc.edu.
