Many a debuting writer will have been encouraged by this: the awarding of the Libris Literature Prize 2022 to Mariken Heitman, for her novel worm moon† A relatively unknown writer and a book that had not previously been tipped as a contender for the country’s most prestigious literature prize. Perhaps this is also my foreland, nameless writers of manuscripts-to-be will have thought – only to make their own writing talent visible with even more hope. First only for themselves and a single reader, who is expected to lend a mild expression to any textual criticism. Ultimately for a large readership, which willingly heeds reading tips from reviewers and booksellers.
But every sentence with which the debutant feeds his illusions can also be the prelude to a disappointment in various guises: a publisher who rejects the manuscript (with or without thanksgiving), a reviewer who has promoted the manuscript to a book with two stars or the ramsh refers, or which does not deem it worthy of discussion at all. It can all happen. In fact, a manuscript very rarely lives up to the author’s expectations – even if it is published.
Such is the fate of writers who remain invisible to the general public, of struggling artists in general, of ambitious athletes, and of anyone who claims to excel in any field. We live in a society where an increasing emphasis is placed on talent, and on how to let that talent flourish. But many do not see their efforts crowned with the hoped-for success. For some, this is the incentive to try again with renewed energy, or urge to prove. The other wonders, discouraged, whether no talent is perhaps preferable to a little talent, and whether the wage slave who does not feel any rebelliousness is perhaps better off than himself.
Degradation risk
Certainly: the definition of success is debatable. One writer already knows that he has not lived in vain when a manuscript appears in book form. The other is only satisfied when his book reaches a fifth printing or is nominated for a serious literary prize. But in every expectation there is a certain risk of degradation. Sometimes the writer’s talent falls short of his ambition (although only a few will admit it). Sometimes a good writer is a bad merchant. Sometimes a good book is marketed with the wrong title. Sometimes a book simply appears at the wrong time, or for other reasons – regardless of its merits – it goes unnoticed. With this the author could comfort himself: in the arts, success is often as inscrutable as quality. Literary classics like The evenings, Me, Jan Cremer or Turkish fruit have been pushed up in part by the zeitgeist: the time was ripe for it, in the most literal sense.
However, the vast majority of artists are left behind after their coming-out, thrown back to themselves. “Having a little talent is very dangerous,” writer Thomas Rosenboom said in an interview about his book in 2013. The Red carpet – about two boys whose hoped-for breakthrough as rock star and journalist never materializes. ‘It’s better not to have talent. Then you won’t be tempted to spend all your time on something whimsical like music. Or art. I know people who have gone through the art academy well, and who can therefore also do something, but who were unable to introduce or sell anything. You have to distinguish yourself, be really talented and be better than the rest, otherwise you will be lost. And if you haven’t studied or gained any other experience, what should you do with the rest of your life?’
All in all, it is a sad fate that befalls many: having enough talent to dream about a bright future as an accomplished artist (or top athlete), but just not having enough talent – or luck – to realize those dreams. The talent becomes ballast. To a source of frustration or resentment. Because others will run off with your dreams. Every five-star review of a book other than yours, every breakthrough by a young talent, every commuter train ride, and every workday in an open-plan office reminds you that it didn’t work out.
source of embarrassment
The semitalent struggles and suffers in silence. The fruits of a talent are usually displayed, but talent that has not (yet) borne fruit is rather a source of embarrassment or a private secret – just like a bitter defeat or an incident we would rather not be reminded of. From a safe distance in time we sometimes like to be candid about it, but we prefer to be silent about the raw failure. If only because we don’t arouse compassion with it, even from understanding loved ones. They may be willing to take note of disappointment, but as a rule have little patience with self-pity. After all, there is greater suffering imaginable than a book that goes unpublished or a rock band that never comes to fruition. And tomorrow is another day. The semi-talent, facing the charnel ground of his illusions, has to make do with that.
Our society is not merciful to the semi-talented. You can no longer blame Christianity for that. While in Matthew 25:14-30 the ‘unprofitable servant’ who leaves his potential untapped is thrown into darkness where ‘weeping and gnashing of teeth’ await him, this ‘parable of the talents’ is not usually interpreted as a curse on the talentless, but – on the contrary – as an admonition to every person to act ‘according to his ability’, in other words: to do his best within the limits of his capacities. Talent is subject to a best efforts obligation.
That is not the common ethos among young athletes who are regarded as ‘talent’, sports umbrella organization NOCNSF wrote in the note. Talent: a word with potential but also with risks† ‘The labeling of young athletes as ‘talent’ hinders their development rather than having a stimulating effect. It has been shown that young people under this label are more likely to avoid difficulties, give up more quickly and see effort as useless more quickly.’ In their experience – or that of their parents – talent does not contain a promise, but is an achievement. ‘Our advice is therefore to be cautious in the use of these terms and possibly even to avoid them altogether.’
For the time being, society does not seem very receptive to that commendable advice. On the contrary: talent is no longer seen as a jewel for the gifted individual, but as a must-have for the masses. Everyone is supposed to be a talent in some area. Language bears the traces of this: in the past you had a talent for something, now you are a talent – you are so strongly identified with a certain skill.
At primary school, there is a diligent search for competences with which students can distinguish themselves as ‘champions’ from each other – on the understanding that there is a champ somewhere in each of them. Meritocracy is nice as long as it doesn’t conflict with the egalitarian pretensions of our education. It is assumed that pupils from socially disadvantaged backgrounds would rather be a champion at VMBO than a potential repeater at HAVO, as could also be concluded from the much acclaimed television series classes†
Today’s talents are less modest in displaying their skills than the talents of the past (which may also be related to the fact that the time-honored adage ‘just act normal, then you’ll be crazy enough’ is hardly followed). In my high school days, the first half of the seventies, a cultural evening took barely more than an hour (including applause and boos). A mime appeared, a clone of the socially critical theater company Proloog, a girl who followed in the footsteps of the French chansonnière Barbara in appearance rather than in song, and a cover band by The Who (which was especially apparent from the guitar playing at the end). of the short performance was smashed). The cultural evenings at the schools of my children (now adults) lasted considerably longer and – it must be said – also had a considerably higher standard. Mature and green talents cast off their trepidation and push each other to greater heights.
Talent development
Being or having a talent is no longer the preserve of artists or athletes alone. Business buildings, provincial houses and open-plan offices are also overflowing with talent and talent managers who have to recruit talent, bring it to full bloom and keep it for the employer. Numerous management consultancy firms approximately derive their raison d’être from this.
According to one of those agencies, Dutch Training Professionals in Maarssen, in the 1990s companies were expected to invest in ‘competence management’, which in practice mainly came down to urging employees to overcome their shortcomings – an approach that ‘in the first decade of this century has been shown to be of little effectiveness’. That is why companies have since then mainly focused on ‘talent management’, the further development of talent that the employee had already demonstrated. But now the luminous insight has matured that talent is not required for every position within a company. ‘This is often the case with managerial tasks. Think, for example, of bookkeeping and administration.’
In ancient times, we owed it to our Creator to actually use the talents He endowed us with—with the addition of “each according to his ability” as an important disclaimer. Talent development is now primarily a tribute to ourselves. This puts more pressure on than talent development as a service to God, given the burnout symptoms that mainly affect ‘young people with great development potential’. Mediocrity is not an option for them.
Maximalists, the American psychologist Barry Schwartz calls them. They are aware of the opportunities they have and the freedom of choice they enjoy in taking advantage of those opportunities. The “official dogma” in our society is that maximum freedom of choice is the prelude to human happiness, wrote Schwartz in his 2004 book The Paradox of Choice† From the subtitle – ‘Why More Is Less’ – it can be concluded that he does not subscribe to this dogma. The multitude of choices and possibilities has a paralyzing influence. People are more concerned with the choices they have not made than with the opportunities they have seized. The fixation on the possible obscures their view of the existing.
In this context, Schwartz uses the metaphor of the goldfish bowl: the bowl does limit their freedom, but it also serves their survival. Happy is the one who can limit his expectations, Schwartz thinks. After all, freedom of choice does not oblige you to excel, especially not if the talent falls short of the ambition. The fate of the contented middle-man is preferable to that of the frustrated maximalist.