we all become curious
I am often thinking about BuzzFeed, about how it published poets and essayists, about how the reporters and editors there would review and recommend and in so doing would uplift and elevate and support writing and literature, and about how there was no paywall for any of this, no monthly or annual subscription required.
Check these people out, their work is excellent, you should know who they are: this exercise in service, repeated daily, for years, and read for free by millions.
That BuzzFeed doesn’t exist anymore, set on fire by the demands of VC economics with executive hubris serving as a splash of kerosene.
I do not know where to find recommendations for the kinds of poets and essayists and novelists and short-story writers that BuzzFeed championed for so long, at least not in one place, and certainly not without a paywall.
Meanwhile the state of publishing is such that if you host your newsletter on Substack you may find yourself having to worry that some of your fellow newsletter writers are Nazis and if you’re an employee of a storied media organization whose history goes back to the 1800s you may find yourself having to worry that some of your colleagues don’t think trans people should exist so here we are, indeed.
It might not feel like much or it might feel like too much, but we can pre-order books, request them from the local library, show up for readings, leave reviews on Goodreads and big retailers’ websites.
We can choose to support the writers and poets whose work we want to continue to see in the world in whatever ways we can.
Attribution
Today there has been so much talk of things exploding
into other things, so much that we all become curious, that we
all run outside into the hot streets
and hug. Romance is a grotto of eager stones
anticipating light, or a girl whose teeth
you can always see. With more sparkle and pop
is the only way to live.
— from And Then It Was Less Bleak Because We Said So by Wendy Xu