We sell writers. Often, down the river. One book critic for NYT who reviewed one of my books (it was a rave) attempted to pour gasoline – what else – on my personal life. His students physically followed me around for years. We might not be the characters we create. Critics are constantly looking for any dirt they can find to corroborate what they already believe. They live in a world where readers wind up on my front porch. Enraged. At me. The literary critics have failed. The classics have failed. The Literary Police (I am a wanted man, not a wanted writer) have failed. The INTERPOL Comment Moderator Police have failed. The Bible Police have also failed. Publishing is a cottage industry. It is hardly a dominant voice in contemporary culture. We sound authoritative to ourselves. This piece strangely avoids addressing the power of pop culture, which in this case would be Amazon. Amazon will set the price of a book their way. PEW surveys insist that Americans read a book a month. If Americans are reading and buying one book a month, book sales would pop out numbers bigger than Hemingway’s boat. No one can afford a book a month. Average Americans read a book a year. This, too, is probably wishful thinking. The same demographic traits that characterize non-book readers also often apply to those who have never been to a library. Critics want revenge. Why. Because they cannot write. So they address Other Writers. I doubt if they could thrive anywhere else doing something useful.