Is Dappled Things too down on the Catholic writing scene?

I recently read John-Paul Heil’s Dappled Things review of A.M. Juster’s Gerytades: An Aristophanes Play, Sort Of. While the title of the essay, “Aristophanes Fights Sweaty Catholics and Wins,” is undoubtedly intriguing, after reading the essay, I was a little stumped. Ostensibly about Juster’s new translation of Aristophanes’ play, Heil spends half of the “review” critiquing the current Catholic literary revival, instead of providing a thorough and respectful review of Juster’s work. This tactic, it seems to me, does a disservice to both Juster’s book and to the Catholic literary revival, which he criticizes for not being “cool” enough for his tastes. After reading Heil’s essay, I am interested in Juster’s translation of Aristophanes’ great play, however I disagree in his assessment of the contemporary Catholic literary scene as “itchy” and “sweaty” and “desperate.”

Heil laments: “[s]ome of the figureheads of the Catholic literary revival . . . have written novels that borrow, in form and content, from contemporary literature’s Christ-haunted greats like David Foster Wallace (by way of Dostoyevsky) and Martin Mosebach and, to a lesser extent, George Saunders and Richard Russo and Jonathan Franzen. Although these works are celebrated within Christian spheres and well-reviewed . . . they’ve received almost no attention beyond” the borders of the Catholic literary scene. He didn’t name these figureheads, but it should be noted that Catholic writers have recently been published by major presses, their work has been reviewed in the LA Review of Books and other influential secular journals, and they’ve appeared on major podcasts, just to name a few sightings outside of the confines of the small pond of the Catholic literary world. At the Catholic Imagination Conference at Notre Dame last fall, Heil writes that the lamentable state of contemporary Catholic literature was “discussed, frequently and sweatily, during conference panels, keynotes, and coffee breaks.” Heil reports on the conjectures of participants as to the cause of this woeful state (e.g. “people just aren’t reading books anymore”) and proceeds to disagree with them. The real problem, according to Heil, is that the movement does not produce anything cool. “When’s the last time you had fun reading one of these books? The last time you read one to unwind, to relax, to delight? Again, the contemporary Catholic literary arts scene is great [he says, trying to be polite]. But I worry it’s not delightful.”

I also attended the Catholic Imagination Conference at Notre Dame. If I hadn’t seen Heil there, I would wonder if we really attended the same conference. I completely missed the sweaty angst, as I was too immersed in exhilarating joy. That isn’t to say sweaty angst doesn’t exist. I mark my active, conscious participation in this movement to 2017’s CIC at Fordham. That’s seven and a half years of attending conferences like CIC, online programs through Catholic Literary Arts and the Collegium Institute’s Global Catholic Literature Series, enrolling in University of St. Thomas’ MFA program with James Matthew Wilson and Joshua Hren, subscribing to and publishing in Dappled Things, and serving on the advisory committee of Catholic Literary Arts. So let me acknowledge where Heil and I might agree.

I also meet many program participants and conference attendees who share similar questions and concerns about Catholic literature as Heil describes in his review. I give them the benefit of the doubt because they haven’t been immersed in all that this community has to offer long enough to be transformed by it. I encourage them, as our movement’s figureheads, to use Heil’s term, including Randy Boyagoda and Katy Carl, have done elsewhere, to begin discovering for themselves the abundance of riches to be found among contemporary Catholic writers.

I will add a sprinkling of my own favorite reads from just the last few months to give a sense of some of the “delightful” work being produced by Catholic writers today. I’ve devoured these books with absolute pleasure: Natalie Morrill’s The Ghost Keeper, Brigid Pasulka’s A Long, Long Time Ago and Essentially True (both of these award winning novels from mainstream publishers, by the way), Glenn Arbery’s Boundaries of Eden, and Sally Thomas’ The Blackbird and Other Stories. That’s just the fiction side. I don’t write poetry, but I read it, tons of it, thanks to this movement. It’s made me a better writer. It also provides me with that elusive delight Heil claims our movement lacks. Catholic contemporary poets are receiving awards, getting nominated for Pushcart Prizes, and are active participants in the current revival of versecraft that is taking place, and you can read their work in the pages of Catholic journals like DT, but also in secular journals.

Heil writes that Juster’s Gerytades “is what it looks like when a writer’s got something great on his hands, a piece of verse so stuffed full of delight and joy and fun . . .” Juster, of course, spent a semester teaching the craft of poetry in the UST MFA program. He’s also a supporter of Catholic writers, both those he taught in the MFA and others - just check out his Twitter/X feed.

Luckily, none of us are forced to choose between “cool” guys like Franzen and Wallace. We get to read whatever we want and I choose to read my fellow Catholic writers - with pleasure. No itch. No sweat. We’ve got the goods, and we know it. Heil, unfortunately, does not. Maybe Heil is just uninformed about the good work out there, just as he seems uninformed about much of what is going on in the actual Catholic Literary Revival. Heil claims that there’s a level of desperation among Catholic writers, but I have to say, I don’t see it.

The entire point of our movement, from Dana Gioia’s call to arms to all the current iterations of writers, publishers, conferences, and organizations, is to create our own community, and that’s exactly what we’ve done. Being noticed by the cool guys is not the goal, nor do we need it for any sort of affirmation. Rather, this movement will continue to do what it has been doing: challenge and nurture both established writers and developing ones, editors, academics, publishers, artists from other disciplines seeking collaboration and community (witness the amazing presence of musicians at Notre Dame), and finally, readers. I am certainly not the writer or person I was in 2017. The process of growth has been humbling at times.

Whether it’s a classmate in my MFA, a new member of Catholic Literary Arts, or published authors, it’s never been about “what books you have to read and write or what reviews you have to churn out to get recognized,” as Heil writes. I’m not even sure what Heil means by that, but it’s lamentable to consider its potential cynicism. What it is about, for me and many others, is being inspired to do my best work, and being blessed with a growing circle of friends to share my journey with, and to contribute in my own way to theirs.