John Green has just admitted that he gives himself permission to fail, and that is already circulating on social media. At JVA, we see this gesture as part of a discourse that feeds on vulnerability as a bargaining chip. It is not the first time a high-profile author puts himself in the learner’s position. The attitude, however, makes us reflect on what we really want to read.
In recent years, publishing culture has prized the discourse of authenticity over textual quality. When a bestseller talks about ‘being bad’ to sell, the framing is usually more marketing than art. This strategy creates a cycle where the audience expects confessions instead of well-crafted works. The risk is turning the act of writing into a performance of self-contempt.
If the permission to ‘suck’ is not accompanied by a text that surprises us, the promise unravels into frustration. Literary criticism has already noted that an excess of self-reflection can mask a lack of substance. We do not want the narrative to be sustained by excuses, but by solid arguments. Therefore, we evaluate each release on its merits, regardless of the vulnerability narrative the author chooses.
At the same time, acknowledging one's own fallibility can be liberating for the reader. It demystifies the myth of the infallible genius and creates space for lesser-known writers to feel comfortable making mistakes. This humanization can generate empathy and, in some cases, stimulate creative experimentation. Still, empathy should not replace aesthetic criteria.
In the Brazilian independent scene, we see authors who take risks without needing a ‘permission to err’ discourse. Publisher support usually comes from confidence in the project, not from self-contempt statements. When a voice like Green’s positions itself this way, it can inspire some, but it can also divert attention from local production that fights for visibility. It is necessary to separate the marketing effect from the genuine contribution to the literary debate.
For us, the priority remains writing that challenges and rewards us. We do not celebrate failure as an end, but as a starting point for works that stand on their own. JVA will continue to publish authors who, before asking permission to fail, already deliver something worth reading. This stance keeps the focus on the book, not on the accompanying discourse.
In the final analysis, literature needs room to err, but that space must be filled with attempts that move us forward, not with excuses that leave us stagnant. What matters to us is the text that reaches the reader, not the permission narrative that precedes it. Therefore, we keep a critical eye on any strategy that substitutes the work with the author himself. The strength of the book remains in its content, not in its self-confession.
