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There are many times when simply carrying on a conversation seems impossible—whether the subject is race, or the war in Iraq, or the propriety of tipping at Starbucks; whether the setting is a seminar room or the family dining table or the blogosphere. A couple of volleys are exchanged and the parties return to business as usual.
Last week I responded to a blog by the scholar Matthew Avery Sutton, who had posted a response to Frederica Mathewes–Green's recent piece in Books & Culture, "Holy Hegemony!" The subject was Aaron K. Ketchell's book Holy Hills of the Ozarks: Religion and Tourism in Branson, Missouri, which Mathewes–Green had discussed at length in her piece on Branson. Sutton described Mathewes–Green's piece as "ridiculous" and accused her of systematically, willfully misrepresenting Ketchell's book. He described Ketchell's book as "brilliant," a "careful, balanced, and sophisticated analysis of Branson that incorporates the latest religious and culture studies theory." My response took up those charges, and now Sutton has replied.
So what has been accomplished so far? Not much, I'm sorry to say. But it may be worthwhile to persist. Yes, Sutton is busy and I am busy. On the other hand, the two of us (along with Frederica Mathewes–Green) are among the very few people in the world who have read—or will read—Ketchell's book. And most of you who are following this exchange have read Mathewes–Green's essay–review. It seems that we shouldn't squander the opportunity for conversation.
The tone of Sutton's rejoinder is genial (humor is always welcome, though a little forced jocularity goes a long way). He's suggesting, if I am reading him correctly, that there's nothing personal in our disagreement, a sentiment I share. Neither of us, for instance, has called the other a "jackal," as the Chinese head of the Communist Party in Tibet recently referred to the Dalai Lama. I appreciate that, and I wish I could say that Sutton's rejoinder cleared up some of the confusion sown by his first piece.
Alas, with the exception of a couple of grudging concessions, no. And so I will try, one more time, to do that—and then try to move the conversation—if it can be so called—forward.
First, then, confusion. Sutton writes in his rejoinder: "Unlike Mathewes–Green and Wilson, I hoped to keep this discussion in the realm of ideas, not personal religious commitments." What? This comes from a writer who began by referring gratuitously to Jerry Falwell and James Dobson, then described Frederica Mathewes–Green as "a popular writer and veteran on the evangelical lecture circuit." How is this more "in the realm of ideas" than what Mathewes–Green wrote? Can't Sutton be bothered to remember his own words? And it appears that, even though I already quoted last week what Mathewes–Green actually said in this context, I'm going to have to do it again, because Sutton continues to misrepresent her. Here is what she wrote:
Ketchell explains that he began studying Branson because his thesis advisor specialized in Marian apparitions, and the topic of folk religion drew his interest. (Of his own background, he says that his family "has for many generations been staunchly Catholic.") As he thought about a past visit to the Ozarks, "I recalled that in that region one could not find statues of Mary or paintings of St. Sebastian skewered with arrows, yet its religious attractions were comparable mixtures of sacred and secular." (I am stumped as to how a statue of Mary is a "mixture of sacred and secular"; I can only guess that Ketchell considers art intrinsically secular because it partakes of the material world.)
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