Getting Weird In Conformity Culture

The Razzies and the 25th anniversary of an under appreciated novel.

Francis Ford Coppola spent decades and $120 million on his film Megalopolis and as the film finally moved towards its 2024 debut, the internet rooted palpably for its commercial and artistic failure. The schadenfreude preceded the disaster and maybe even caused it. Strangers were rooting for Coppola to fail.

Imagine living in mythological Greece and seeing Icarus take to the air in wings fashioned for him by his genius father. Would your first thought really be, “I hope he gets too close to the sun so the wax melts off his shoulders and he plummets to his death”? Because that’s what happened here. Coppola graciously accepted a “Golden Raspberry” award for worst director of 2024, expressing sly gratitude for also being nominated for worst screenplay and worst picture. He took the opportunity to celebrate failure as a result of ambition and risk-taking and to draw attention to an entertainment industry full of retread, remakes, formulas and compromises with Chinese censors.

One of Coppola’s laments is that filmmakers aren’t pursuing bold adventures in art or trying to make a permanent contribution to culture, as with an Apocalypse Now. At a time where artistic creativity is the main differentiator between actual and artificial intelligence, we are shrinking away from the purpose of art, which really is individual expression (this is what all the surrealists and Dadaists will tell you, if you wake them up and ask them).

It would have been nice if some combination of the quality of his art and the quality of our critics had conspired for Coppola to have pulled off a major and widely acclaimed success here. Perhaps audiences will find and nurture a love for the film, over time and we will be reminded once again that the immediate appreciation of a creative work is not best measure of its cultural value.

So, to change subjects (but not really) this year is the 25th anniversary of the publication of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers, who went on to huge success as an author, publisher, editor, educator and philanthropist. There’s been surprisingly little fanfare around this landmark, aside from a fantastic write up in Slate by Dan Kois. If you’ve never read it, I still recommend AHWoSG, and I might pick it up again to see how it resonates now. The passages I have encountered all hold up.

Which brings me, so many paragraphs down, to the point of today’s Middlebrow? It might stun you that today’s middlebrow has a point, but thanks for keeping that to yourself. This middlebrow is about a book called Lemon by Lawrence Krauser, an author, poet, playwright and artist still working here in New York City. Lemon is also 25 years old and is one of the first books published by McSweeney’s, the writer-centric publishing house founded by Eggers after the success of his memoir.

Eggers used his considerable wealth and influence to elevate other writers like Stephen Dixon, Lydia Davis and Krauser. He collaborated with other very successful and influential authors like Nick Hornsby. McSweeney’s runs as a small press but has partnerships that give it global reach and the books all represent an art and craft forward approach, relying on the Eggers name to help with the issues of commerce.

Lemon is a novel about a man named Wendell who becomes infatuated with a lemon. It’s an absurd comedy unrequited love, hopeless love, obsessions and growing up after adolescence. It’s like Franz Kafka but without the dread and darkness and yet the story gives up none of its gravity — the man in love with the citrus is important because he speaks to all of our misplaced affections.

I read the book when it came out and have been carrying it for two and a half years decades. I might not have thought about it had the author not posted to instagram, asking for pictures of the books cover, for its 25th anniversary. It turns out that each book cover is a unique painting or drawing by Krauser. Every single book is its own object. They went out into the world and Krauser never saw most of them again, but we can now easily send him pictures. Here’s mine:

So, I learned that I not only owned a book that I enjoyed reading, but a specific piece of art. I sent my photo to Krauser and then reread the novel. It is still delightful and remains laugh-out-loud funny, especially when Wendell brings the lemon to dinner to meet his parents.

I think about Krauser, making each cover by hand, in an industry where one cover design per title is standard and even recommended. I think about Eggers publishing him and letting the author do this, bearing the costs and the risks. I think about Coppola, still an auteur at 85, risking it all for his vision. I think about Woody Allen, 4 years older than Coppola, directing his most recent movie in French where he found financing and a receptive audience.

So, for Coppola’s Razzie, for the quarter century birthday of two books and for all of you creative people committed to being yourselves in a world of algorithms, you have my sincere and enduring respect.