Tilting Against a Really Large Windmill
Twenty years ago, my friend Ari Posner wrote a classic story in
The New Republic about ghostwriting, pointing out that what was once considered a shameful secret in Washington had become commonplace. Once, words were so valued as a sign of intellectual independence and personal gravitas that to admit that others had put them in your mouth was emasculating. Now, a ghostwriter had become a sign of one's own importance; you were too busy to sit down and wrestle with something as painstaking as language, and besides,
anyone could do it.
Now, of course, ghostwriters are so taken for granted, they are not even remarked upon.
I know it's curmudgeonly to insist that there's something weird about this...
...but how can the
New York Times write an entire piece about Nicole Richie and her new novel, "
The Truth about Diamonds"—yes, that's her on the cover—without even mentioning the word "ghostwriter"?
Okay, the Times does include the clause, "which Ms. Richie said she wrote herself." But who could possibly believe that? A little more skepticism would be in order...except that the reporter clearly doesn't think the issue is important.
Almost as bizarre to me is the adoration her young fans, waiting in line to have their books signed, manifested.
As one teenage boy told the Times, "Her body is perfect, her hair is perfect, her outfit is perfect, her makeup is perfect. I love everything about her."
"Her outfit is perfect?" This, from a teenage boy?
We live in strange times....
