No Regrets: Three Discussions is the N + 1 follow-up to What We Should Have Known, a tiny book the New York publisher brought out in 2007. What We Should Have Known presented transcripts of two panel discussions of N + 1 writers and editors. The idea, according to Keith Gessen’s one-page introduction, was to answer the “canon-based” approach to college study by identifying contemporary classics and by, in Gessen’s words, “articulating a better reason to read the best books ever written than that they authorize and underwrite a system of brutal economic competition and inequality.
But a funny thing happened on the way to compiling a contemporary, Marxist-friendly literary canon. Perhaps guided by the subtext of its title, What We Should Have Known turned into a roundtable discussion of reading regrets. Which made the book complicated and entertaining. If there is such a thing as “the reading life” (there isn’t, not really), it would have to be a life of regrets as much as one of enrichment and entertainment. There are too many books! There isn’t enough time! You can’t possibly read everything, much less read it in the proper chronology. Reading What We Should Have Known is like eavesdropping on a group of super-smart readers confessing to what they wish they had done differently. Actually, it isn’t like that, it is that. It’s a fun, easy-but-still-smart read.
It’s seven years later (already!) and N + 1 is under the leadership of a new generation of editors. One of them, Dayna Totorici, has resurrected Gessen’s project but with a twist. No Regrets: Three Discussions presents three panels instead of two, the cast this time is all female, and the conversations driven by a feminist sensibility. Tortorici’s super-sharp introduction explains that, for women, the injunction “should” in the title of the first volume embodies the double-possibility of female subjection and emancipation. The book, she explains, presents conversations about women becoming themselves. They are, she suggests, the kinds of conversations women tend not to have when there are boys around.
First and foremost, No Regrets offers the reader the experience of reading about reading. It’s a small-scale version of what I imagine reading Rebecca Mead’s book on Middlemarch would be like, but with less time spent on more literary subjects. Joan Didion comes and goes, as do Rebecca Solnit, Henry James, Judith Butler and Roland Barthes. What We Should Have Known was like this, too. Personally, I think it’s a good thing these books are small. The paradox (and the problem) in reading about reading is that while you are reading, you aren’t actually reading anything.
The loose focus of these discussions — how did these women writers and readers become themselves? — is, as Tortorici says, not so much more or less interesting than the focus on the previous book — my misspent literary youth — as it is refreshingly different. Still, I missed the complexity and delightful irony of reading a discussion that at once celebrated and mourned the privilege of having the time to read practically everything. In the first book, the authors’ sense of entitlement (imagine being as well-read as these people, and at such a young age!) was nicely balanced by the remorse they shared in having not taken full advantage of (if not full-on wasting) their gifts of curiosity and ample leisure time. Here, the discussion orbits around calls to action (girls should stop texting and playing the tambourine at garage band hang-outs and pick up a guitar), refusals to admit regret (as suggested by the title), and tributes to influential feminists and critics (Didion, Butler, and Chris Krauss, author of I Love Dick, which sounds amazing).
But I don’t mean to sound negative. If you enjoyed What We Should Have Known, or if it sounds like fun to briefly drop in on a well-edited conversation among super-smart book people, you should definitely read this book. My favorite panel is the last one, and my favorite critic is, as always, Elif Batuman, who offers a brilliant digression on the relationship between fashion advice and the danger of the writer’s instrumental manipulation of a subject’s conception of her own identity; a wonderful summary of why I Love Dick is a masterpiece; and the charming advice her small Turkish aunt always gave her on the phone (which I can’t repeat without spoiling the book’s hilarious and perfect ending).
Dayna Totorici is right. You wouldn’t hear these conversations among a group of men, and you might not even hear them in a group that included just one man. No Regrets is a quick and fun read, an engaging public conversation, a pocket feminist anthem. You should throw a few bucks to the next generation of N + 1 and get yourself a copy. You’ll be glad you did.