Mr. Kamiya gives a good description of part of what goes into the process of writing an article nowadays. The concerns of Mr. Kamiya are the concerns of many writers; these concerns flavor the finished product. This is neither good nor bad, but it is useful for readers to know.

Most criticism is based on ignorance. So be it, and so will it be. Good criticism is a joy to read, though rarely read.

The trolls, the virulent, the sanctimonious, the dogmatic, those with a grain who insist they possess a bushel, are slithering, noxious shadows that dim the light. Thus the craft of the writer must shine even brighter, to dim these shadows.

"(We do remove posts that contain gratuitous insults, ad hominem attacks, obscenities and the like.)"

I would like to point out that you (Salon) DON'T do the above, or at least, don't do it very well. And your entire article proves my point.

I liken reading the letters section of most articles akin to watching a train wreck: It's awful, but you just can't seem to turn away. Responders are often pompous, arrogant, ill informed, and so down-right rude to the authors and one another that it makes me cringe. (I'm not going to site any article in particular: Randomly click one with a lot of letters and you'll see what I mean.) And I wonder why in the world those kinds of responses are allowed. Certainly they don't add any kind of meaningful insight to the discussion. They're just mean. And it's easy to be that way in this age of virtual-relationships.

In general, you're right. I know it sounds snobby, but the whole movement of editors "listening" to readers is bogus. What they really mean is, "Give the people what they want" in the worst possible way, and I'm convinced the trend is driven by the suits, not the ink-stained wretches. Bring back the wretches!

But Gary ... don't you and Rebecca T. see the irony in you quoting her about ad hominem attacks? I like Rebecca's articles, but she ENGAGES in ad hominem attacks. And no matter how you both feel about your jobs, a bylined author always has more power than a letter writer.

And yet, it's too easy simply to celebrate the downfall of the elite media and glory in the toppling of the gatekeepers. Yes, they -- we -- could and can be smug and arrogant. Yes, we should be summoned to account when we screw up. And yes, the online revolution has made it easier to do that. But to be part of an elite doesn't mean you're divinely anointed. It simply means you have some aptitude for what you do and have spent years learning to do it, and so you're probably better at it than most people.

But here's the problem: what, exactly, are columnists -- like bloggers in general, or the writers here at Salon -- the "elites" of? Are you writers first, meaning that you should be better at writing than most people? Are you journalists first, and better at ferreting out the truth? Are you prescriptive sociologists, better at stirring up society until the cream comes to the top -- and then skimming it up with your pen?

A lot of the unfocused, random thrashing of the "comment gallery" -- at least, the part that's not all "Look at me! Look at me! I have an angry face on my bum!" -- is due to the fact that readers and respondents will hold you to a different standard than you hold yourself, a standard you might not even consider. Perhaps you got into column writing because you wanted to be a novelist, and this is a step along that path; in the interim, though, you're now reporting on facts, at least from the POV of some of your audience. (And the same holds true in reverse.) I suspect it's exactly that person who wants to do ALL of the above who is most vulnerable -- emotionally and professionally -- to hostile criticism from "hoi polloi" who, through anonymity or obscurity, do not risk as much.

Kamiya says: "Some of the best pieces -- the most thoroughly investigated, clearly argued, beautifully written -- generate very few letters."

How true! As in, "every single article Andrew Leonard has written" true. Any time I'm jonesing for a red star I head on over to his section of the site and post up something thoughtful about one of his articles. All the screaming barbarian hordes slavering over their keyboards at the latest Dickerson or Tennis can hardly be bothered to wrap their minds around anything Leonard writes. And yet people complain about the "declining" standards here! FFS, the Tom Tomorrow CARTOON gets more letters than Andrew Leonard. (If any of you want an abject yet hilarious view into the mindset of Salon letter writers, I *highly* suggest reading the last few months of letters for Tom's cartoon.)

Oh, and as for Loyalist's suggestion that Salon writers reply more often to their own letters, I've often wondered the same thing. King Kaufman seems to be the only one to do it with any regularity.

-Adam in Philly

PS - since this is already one of the most "meta" self-referential articles in Salon's history I have to admit I miss Waldman, if only for the bizarre routine of my coming across one of her new articles, noticing that there were already 100+ letters, and totally reading *ONLY* the letters and never the actual article.

I feel both chastened and encouraged by this piece, Mr. Kamiya. You have covered the gamut of this weird experience of instant reader response as well as one could. I have written quite a few letters, and while I generally try to be thoughtful, I've certainly been guilty of letting a few flames fly. Sometimes the vitriol is warranted, but often it's the consequence of other intangibles--boredom, frustration, a hangover, an argument with a co-worker, etc.--things I would have cooled off from and forgotten in the time it would take me to write a letter longhand, hunt down the proper address, fold it up, seal it, and send it off. Mea culpa.

A point: Many of us have been with you from the beginning. I'm from the southheast and was never really in the internet 'loop', but was turned on to Salon when you published a piece about my friend's father in your first year, and have been an almost daily reader ever since. In my provincial backwater, Salon was a window into the wider world, with fresh perspectives on topics I'd have been otherwise ignorant of. I think your comparison of the internet to New York is apt: regardless of what New York is really like, venues like Salon instantly connected those of us outside of the media world to the kind of people and conversations we knew existed somewhere but had no access to.

In the last decade, Salon has gone through a lot of changes--a lot of writers and editors have come and gone, and a lot has changed about the world of online journalism (to say the least). We've all grown ten years older together, for one thing. A lot of the griping points to some idea of what kind of content Salon ought to be publishing--a heavy listing toward pieces about parenting is a good example--and this seems the natural consequence of growth (I used to resent all of the mommy articles, but now that my partner and i are expecting, i gobble them up like candy).

Bear in mind that, while we aren't always as nice to the writers as we should be, some of us feel, however wrongheadedly, a sense of ownership and familial connection to Salon (especially us premium members). Like parents, we want it to be our baby forever. Sometimes we want it to grow up, but we also greet its changes with trepidation and resentment. Any daily is going to have its fair share of middling, hurried content, and while perhaps the cuts could be kinder, some of the chastening is deserved and appropriate. You are close to being the gold-standard of on-line journalism, and so when you publish a weak, hyperbolic, poorly researched or fact-checked piece, it's like you've come home with a C- on your report card. As readers, we want Salon to be as great as we know it can be, every day. It's all part of why we love you!

It's also worth mentioning that, while your writers get a lot of flames on these pages, those flames also inspire a good measure of spirited defense. I'm sure it stings to get lambasted by an irate reader, but try to let the two dozen readers who stick up for you and your colleagues against the flame-throwers be some sort of mild balm.

I'm ambivalent about the way the letters columns are working these days, but one thing I really like about the new format is the sense of on-line community that really inspired Salon and its precedents, such as the WELL. I often put my 2 cents in on King Kaufman's column, for instance, because none of my friends or colleagues are interested in sports. The folks who write in are my water cooler crowd, and King always has something provocative and off-beat to get the conversation going. That's a great thing, despite its obvious drawbacks--the wacko narcissists, flamethrowers, etc. I hope whatever changes you institute preserve this atmosphere.

At the same time, I hope there's some reasonable way of calming the throngs without stifling the liveliness. You mention several writers (Waldman, Miller, Traister) who've taken quite a few lumps (some arguably misogynistic), but no one takes more punishment than good ol' Cary Tennis, whose column has become a bit of a monster in the 'letters' section. We all know Cary's a successful 12-stepper, and thus knows the bit about having the grace to accept the things he can't control, but who ever thought giving people thoughtful advice could become a daily act of running the gauntlet?

In any case, thanks again, Salon, for keeping the conversation going, even when it seems to be going in the wrong direction.