Against Writers

This week, I found myself absorbed by a mini-scandal in American letters in which a magazine called Hobart Pulp published an interview with Alex Perez, a fiction writer whose opinion pieces I was familiar with. Most of its staff resigned in protest against his iconoclastic opinions. I was getting worked up about their self-entitlement and censoriousness when I realised — and this is entirely my fault — that I had never bothered to track down one of Alex’s stories. Would it have offered such a convenient shot of serotonin?