what’s wrong with ‘dumbing down’?

In a comment to my post yesterday, conspiracy_girl asked me if there is anything so bad about ‘dumbing down’ one’s work. In her words:

I am a huge fan of assessable writing. The hard fact is that very few people can read academic writing. Just because it is easy to read does not mean that it does not have substance. You would also have the opportunity to say what you have to say to a far larger audience

Well, I’m a big fan of accessible writing too. Writers have to be able to write in the language of their readers, so that the majority of them will know exactly what is being said. (Whether they agree or disagree may be a different matter.) I also believe that philosophers should address themselves to their whole culture, not just to other academics. It would be a profound mistake to seal oneself up in the ivory tower.

But I also think that writers cheat their readers by giving them anything less than the highest quality work that they are capable of. And while writers should address themselves to a definite audience, and should care deeply about whether they are being understood by that audience, they should care more about being the best writer that they can be. If I wrote anything less than my best, in my professional work, I feel I will have compromised my integrity.

A good writer should also challenge his readers. What’s memorable about a book that does no more than re-iterate something the reader already knows? The simple answer, it seems to me, is nothing. Perhaps it made the author a bit of money, or gained the author a bit of social prestige. But the money can be quickly spent, and the prestige soon lost when it is discovered to be based on an empty sham. For my part, I would rather be right than popular.

A friend of mine and I were talking about this very topic a week ago, and she asked me why anyone would buy a book that didn’t really have anything new or different to say. The question was in part rhetorical; the implied answer is that there is no good reason to buy such a book. But another answer might be: one would buy such a book for the sake of gratification and validation. The purpose of probably two-thirds of the books on Llewelyn’s catalogue is nothing more than to make the reader feel good about himself.

I want to write something that will change people’s lives. I want to write books that challenge the reader, make him or her think hard about important topics, or face possibilities and realities that might not otherwise be faced. I want to write books that no one else could write; books that make people stop and think; books that will stand the test of time. Such a book benefits the reader far more, in the long run, than a book that merely gratifies him; and indeed it benefits the wider community in a permanent way too.

I want there to be more authors in the community with this kind of an attitude: but I’m not waiting for them to appear. If I want to see more books of the greatest intellectual power, artistic quality, and spiritual appeal, then I cannot wait for another author to write them. I have to write them myself.

And we pagans ought to feel up to reading such a book. Last year, my brother T, when he was only 15 years old, read The Confessions of Saint Augustine. This is a very, very difficult work; it still challenges the finest philosophical minds on the planet. But if my 15 year old brother can think himself up to the task of reading it, whereas the average 15 year old newbie pagan picks up Scott Cunningham or Silver Ravenwolf: well I shudder to think of what the next generation of pagans will be like. Where is our equivalent to Augustine’s Confessions? Where is our equivalent to Anselm of Canterbury’s Proslogion? There isn’t one, you say? Then it’s time to write one.

So, for my part, if the aim to write high-quality, philosophically substantial books requires me to turn down a publisher who offers me a contract on the condition that I “dumb down” the work, then I shall turn that publisher down. I’ve done it before; I will do it again. oakmossone is correct: when it comes to my writing, I do have a lot of pride.

But pride, or rather amore propere, is not a vice. It is a sign of a noble soul.