Fax off and die
I’m currently in the early stages of reading How to Lose Friends and Alienate People by Toby Young, a well-chosen Christmas gift that I received from a rather surprising person. But enough about that. While I can see why people would think this book might appeal to me — and it does, in its own peculiar way — the fact that the writer is laying bare the tawdry world of the socialite, the media whirl and the celebrity circle in New York possibly doesn’t have the required effect on this reader. I’ve never been particularly starstruck by celebrity; in fact, I’ve always found the excessive glitz and glamour of Hollywood-style fame horribly grotesque. So far, this book is only confirming what I thought: that the whole thing is distasteful and nothing to do with real life.
However, an early chapter in the book does go into detail about Toby Young’s superb “media luvvie” falling-out with Julie Burchill, over the closure of the excellent ‘90s magazine Modern Review. “Low Culture for Highbrows” was their slogan. Oh, how we laughed (in a knowing and semi-ironic way, obviously).
An episode I haven’t previously heard about, however, is the apparently notorious fax war (yes, faxes — this was 1993, after all) between Camille Paglia and Ms Burchill. Here’s one of Julie’s best shots:
“I’m not nice. I’m not as loud as you, but if push comes to shove I’m nastier. I’m ten years younger, two stone heavier, and I haven’t had my nuts taken off by academia.”
And a later riposte from Paglia:
“A friend of mine calls a style like yours — which we have seen a thousand examples of — ‘alcoholic prose’. There is a heavy, grinding ponderous pull on the sinking syntax, a noisy blathering sound, a bitter, maudlin self pity breaking through the false bravado and cynical posturing. It is probably a style you learned at home. It is palpably 30 years out of date.”
For what it’s worth, I think that Julie Burchill comes off better in this marvellously vituperative exchange (although as a fan of much of her writing, I am slightly biased in her favour). Unfortunately, Camille Paglia suffers from too many severe bouts of “academia-speak”, which means that she fails to be as quick off the mark with the insults, and they end up getting lost in the middle of long paragraphs of semi-reasoned argument. Coherent discussion is all very well, but plain nasty mud-slinging usually wins the war — as Julie Burchill demonstrates in her last message of this verbal battle:
“24 Mar 93
Dear Professor Paglia,
Fuck off you crazy old dyke.
Always,
Julie Burchill.”
It’s brief, pithy and to the point — but it’s also downright ugly and rude, so I don’t condone it. Noticeably, Camille Paglia does not respond to this flagrant insult.
Next year will be the tenth anniversary of this bitter exchange. If it was within my power, I would dearly like to arrange for Burchill and Paglia to repeat their transatlantic tiff, but this time using email. As a form of communication, email is immediate and offers the opportunity — as I’ve discovered myself, unfortunately once too often — to write the first thing that comes into one’s head, and then send it without giving a moment’s thought to the consequences. Given this chance, I think the sparks would really fly. Pro-celebrity email bitching, relayed to a worldwide audience — it could be the hit spectator sport of the 21st century.
So that’s my little tribute to the Julie ‘n’ Camille show. A demonstration of how wonderful being bitchy can be. Bitch. It’s a great word, and a great feeling. Go on, you know you want to.