Pardon the past week’s absence of blog posts. I moved out of Manhattan last Monday, having lived there for 27 years, and relocated to Iowa City, Iowa. I’d like to plead the excuse that I’ve been too busy getting myself situated to do any blogging, but that would not be quite accurate. More to the point would be to say that for a week I’ve been using “getting myself situated” as an excuse not to do any blogging. I’m so avoidant, you see, that I even avoid social activities that I enjoy, such as casting my wisdom into Cyberspace.

Speaking of neurotic behavior, I’ve resolved not to surrender to the standard Iowa City uniform of a feed-cap, jeans or shorts, and a flapping t-shirt, or a sweatshirt when it’s cooler. I’m going to continue to wear my bespoke suits on weekdays, and a sport jacket on weekends, mostly because I like to, and partly because I’ve never been any good at blending in, wherever I am and whatever I’m doing – so if I can’t blend in, I might as well make the most of standing out.

It’s pretty clear that I’m going to stand out politically as well, at least in some circles – in a way that’s not likely to endear me to many. I’ve resolved to give up my long-standing habit of staying home and seldom partaking of social and cultural activities. I’ve been telling myself, for the past several months, that when I got to Iowa City I was going to make a special effort to get out there and go to lectures, concerts, recitals, gallery openings, and other such places where I could network, make business connections, and develop a social circle. So far, I’ve been doing a bit of that: going to suchlike events more days than not, anyway.

On this past Friday afternoon, I went to Dey House, a charming little library that houses the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, to hear a lecture by novelist Allan Gurganus. His topic was “Fiction As History, And Vice Versa.” Mr. Gurganus is a fine speaker, and his lecture was interesting to me until he started dropping gratuitous political comments such as “There is no such thing as a Republican artist, period. And if you mention Ayn Rand or Kevin Costner, the exits are there and there.” He also remarked how horrified and disgusted he was that the Supreme Court had ruled that “multinational corporations” could engage in political speech via financial contributions.

Naturally these sallies met with murmurs of approval from the audience. It’s funny and frustrating to me that in many academic or soi-disant intellectual circles, you can say “multinational corporations” and it’s as though you’ve said “child molestor.” People who belong to such circles, ironically, often have an aversion to critical thinking. Perhaps they believe an emotional reaction to a demagogic ploy is somehow more “genuine,” or perhaps they’re afraid that if they question the orthodox position, their peers won’t think they’re cool. I’m not sure.

At the end, when Mr. Gurganus called for questions, I promised myself I’d ask a question if someone else did first, but nobody did, so I didn’t. What I wanted to ask was this: “Regarding your assertion that there are no Republican artists, do you suggest that it’s the party registry that disqualifies a person from artistry? Or are there certain positions on certain issues that you may not hold if you’re an artist? I’m curious, Mr. Gurganus. Is there a calculus, by which one’s political opinions are weighed against the artistic merit of one’s œuvre? Or are you just a horse’s ass?”

Okay, I wouldn’t have said the last part, but I’m sure Mr. Gurganus would have heard it. But if I’d asked the preceding questions, I can promise you I’d not have been forgotten by anyone in that room. What scandal I’d have caused! What a name I’d have made for myself, instantly, as a horrible Grinch who dared to disrupt that wonderful lecture with his insulting and impertinent questions that presumed to contradict that which we all KNOW is the truth!

The following day, I attended another social event where I was introduced to a woman of about my own age who’d been at the lecture, and she asked me, “Wasn’t it wonderful?” I said, “I was enjoying it very much, until he started getting all arrogant and dismissive.” She was genuinely astonished, and asked me what I was referring to. I explained myself, but she still seemed a bit taken aback. I’m sure she was intelligent enough to grasp, intellectually, that some people could have been offended by Mr. Gurganus’ remarks – but the fact remains that I had to point out the offense. She would never have noticed it, herself.

There’s a smugness, I believe, in some Iowa City circles: a notion that of course all decent people think a certain way, and that other opinions merit not the slightest consideration, but merely a reflexive scorn. I’m just enough of a busybody, just enough of a sower of discord, that I intend to do something about it. Maybe that “something” will take away from my avoidance rituals. I can only hope so.

- Josephus Rex Imperator

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