Via Echidne, I took one of those silly internet quizzes, this one purporting to correlate one’s own humble prose with that of famous dudes. (I suspected they were all dudes because I took it multiple times and did not turn up Margaret Atwood, to my overwhelming sorrow. A commenter at Echidne’s subsequently turned up a discussion elsewhere of the dudeliness – and whiteness – of the allowable matches.)
First my truly shameful revelation: my latest post on Sarah Palin’s wild ride churned up “Dan Brown” as my famous-dude counterpart. It’s enough to make a gal stop dabbling in conspiracy theories.
Otherwise, though, I came out as “David Foster Wallace” and “H.P. Lovecraft.” I am churlish. Despite my assumption that Atwood was off the list, in fact other commenters at Echidne’s did match Atwood’s style. So why, in the name of the holy Magdalene, do I resemble Dan Brown, even if only on the margins? I’ve read virtually all of Atwood’s corpus, including lots of obscure early poems. (Circe, anyone?) From David Fucking Foster Wallace, I’ve read not a word. Maybe it’s time I began?
All I know of H.P. Lovecraft is that he wrote horror and sci fi, which are not my bag. Otherwise I couldn’t distinguish him from H.R. Pufnstuf.
Knowing that most of my readers are writers of some stripe, I’m curious how y’all might come out. Go here and run your blog posts, lab reports, or Great American Novel through the robot. Leave your results in comments; post ‘em on your blog. If you’re anointed the new Margaret Atwood, just be kind enough to refrain from gloating. For what it’s worth, the robot thinks Atwood writes like James Joyce.