Writer and digital media presence Tao Lin is gifted with an ingenuous knack for inflection, uncanny self-promotional skills and the ability to harness the two together seamlessly. By twenty-five, Lin published a prolific amass of work including his first novel EEEEE EEE EEEE, the equally sensational Shoplifting From American Apparel and poetry- and shorts-collections.
In 2009, as Lin confirmed with David Nygren of The Urban Elitist, the author had already launched his own publishing house and acquired a large enough following to begin writing full time instead of stealing batteries to sell on eBay. On September 7th, 2010, Lin will release his next novel Richard Yates and probably resume his internet shenanigans.
Not surprisingly, Lin's non-traditional approach to new media and dry sense of humor inspires unparalleled hatred and fanboy devotion online. When Lin's piece, “An Account of Being Arrested for 'Trespassing' NYU's Bookstore,” was featured on Gawker, never has the usage of the word 'monotony' been so thoroughly debated:
Or defended:
But, whether or not either analysis deserves credence is not the point. It's the strength and visibility of the reaction that demonstrates Lin's talent for eliciting response. Today's ephemeral intellectualism is obsessed with the placement of improvisational and suspensive hyphens (see: post-post-modernism). It is precisely this preoccupation with self-perpetuating dialogues that estrange academia from political relevance. At the cost of aesthetic narrative and traditional symbol-laden language, Lin employs stripped-down language lacking this pretension.
I think that Lin's own approach to the discerning narrative, as stated in an interview with Bookslut found here, elucidates more about his goals as a writer. When speaking of his controversial portrayal of race, Lin shared, “I know that 98% of all human beings think in preconceptions, clichés, and not factually... I try to view each person specifically, and only their concrete attributes.” His unflinching style is not unlike that of Laurie Moore or Amy Hempel.
II.
Long after I had read and unduly noted Shoplifting From American Apparel and Lin's poetry, I discovered Hipster Runoff. The smarmy yet insightful humor was best suited to my mood and desk job. When I later found out that Tao also contributed – the extent of which remains purposefully undefined – to Hipster Runoff/ the Alt Report, it was like one of those surprises that's so shocking because it makes perfect sense when viewed in retrospect. On a superficial level, Lin's writing has always spoke to me from the perspective of sarcasm, which remains the most readily digestible form of social critique.
I have been consistently amazed at how needed an accessible (via humor), anti-capitalist statement is on the radio paper. Not that surviving in a market economy is bad in a gotta-live-your-life sort of way, but because of the way that culture perpetuates social, racial and ideological achievement systems of discrimination. Academic discourse is the powerhouse publisher of this language. In a strange way, academia lacks the element of the Everyman factor that the ‘hipsterrunoffs’ facetiously (maybe?) celebrates (possibly?) as its aesthetic.
The tweenlight language of the site encourages of a type of accessibility missing in critical theory: the transmission of knowledge rather denial of this to maintain cultural isolation. Not that the site doesn't exist without paradox, seeing that it's besmirched with ads for American Apparel. It does, however, remain unclear how much bandwidth the site must support. All I know is that the culture industry will continue wresting with these concepts and inherent contradictions.
III.
Lastly, I don't expect to be able to uncover the level of meaning or amount of irony present within Tao Lin's writing. To write about 'who is Tao Lin' is so pedantic that the author himself has already mentioned it in scare quotes on his obnoxiously titled blog. Nor am I capable of conceptualizing him too far outside the realm of my own experience, ego and understanding.
I first picked up Shoplifting from American Apparel in St. Marc’s bookstore last summer, mostly on the basis of the title. Dimly, I picked up the book with a "Huh? This guy got arrested or something?" I had heard previously that AA condoned or treated shoplifters leniently. The suburban legend was that 'if you were cool enough to steal the clothes, then you were cool enough to wear them.' I don't have to tell you that was only an image.
Part of me didn't have to recall the friends I knew in Michigan who had actually been arrested for shoplifting from American Apparel to know that. And it's not like American Apparel is the only retail outlet that succeeds well with consumer ambivalence. The store attracts so much critique because its alternative marketing doesn't bode well with its targeted demographic. I use this store as one example to indicate how convoluted the relationship is between personal freedom and consumer choice.
In regards to Tao's book, I bought the book, forgot about it, read the book, read about it later, recommended it. But, I don't want to believe it's that simple. I also want to believe that something about the treatment of American Apparel in the phrase resonated with me. I had transferred to NYU and the only way I could describe how it was to my friends at home was, “It’s just like a commercial for American Apparel.”
In fact, that was a trite way to summarize my feelings while keeping the banter appropriately light, kind of like Lin's title. Tao Lin's pithy phraseology spoke to my confusion; he manages to speak of dissembling a culture while trying to exist amidst its internal disintegration. This is the most aware position an artist can take within society as such.
But, back to St. Marc's. The corner that the bookstore is located on is home to three Starfucks, fake rastas charging vendor paraphernalia and an exquisite Walgreen's on the former site of Astor Wines. Near the cube, there's enough noise to obscure the thought of anything registering aside from the stentorian squeals of horns and other sounds of sheer motion. Further down the street, past the real estate stakeholders, is a cemetery resting in quiet audacity. It was strange, being in a no-place like that and – and?
Something like existing with ambivalence.
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