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To the Things Themselves

By Edward Rothstein
Posted Tuesday, March 9, 1999, at 10:56 AM ET

Dear Sarah:

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A new day, new media marvels. I read in this morning's New York Post about congressional testimony from "people whose parents were suckered by glitzy sweepstakes":

"Patti McElligott recounted how her father-in-law, Joseph McElligott, ordered $53,335 worth of books and magazines, including five separate subscriptions to Time and 32 subscriptions to U.S. News & World Report--all of which expire in the year 2018.''

Talk about "late-capitalist sense of greatness"! Here are great expectations: Read the right publications (OK, many, many, many times), and someday, wealth may accompany your newfound wisdom. This may be the genius of these magazine sweepstakes--offering the possibility of a big payoff with just a little bit (OK, a very, very, very little bit) of self-improvement and culture. We want to know that actually spending time with magazines might bring us some real rewards. (Hmm ... let's hope so, for our sake.)

I actually once took the trouble to lick the stickers, find the secret code, check the boxes, and insert the bonus card (I must have been thinking of the old joke about the devout man who prayed fervently to God that he might win the lottery, until one day a booming voice comes down from the heavens: "Meet me halfway! Buy a ticket!") But there really may be something other than gambling on long odds going on.

We tend to treat almost everything as if it were part of some cultural sweepstakes (to broaden the metaphor). What rewards do we expect for our labors? What's the practical payoff? I always get a little bit nervous whenever the "Mozart effect" is brought up: That's the notion that playing classical music to children improves their IQ, and probably, in the long run, their lifetime income. It's nice to think that Eine Kleine Nachtmusik will someday earn me a seat on the Exchange, but why do we have to see culture solely in terms of possible benefits in other realms?

In addition, in consuming films, books, or music these days, we are thoroughly preoccupied with current economic status, not just future rewards. Our cultural news is, to a great extent, market news. What is the top-grossing film? What was the size of the advance? How many copies sold? The data can't be filtered out. They also end up subtly affecting our artistic perceptions. I was much more fascinated by Life Is Beautiful, for example, when it was on the sidelines of the movie market than I am now that it is at its center. I gather that as far as Shakespeare in Love is concerned, for you, the popular drum-beating aggravated your distaste for the film.

But at a certain point in criticism, I try to shed all worldly concerns and all hopes for future benefits, and seek the ineffable core, the "in-itself,'' the nature of beauty and truth. And I'd see Shakespeare in Love again, just because it was smart fun.

Incidentally, isn't it great that we haven't yet mentioned Monica?

Best,