stethoscope on computer


Update, 10/3/23: this post reflects my own views on the Sonya Larson case. It has been resolved in court, and you can read about that here.

As an author, an executive editor in publishing, and someone who donated a kidney to a stranger, I was naturally intensely interested in the “bad art friend” literary scandal. The article “Bad Art Friend” in the New York Times detailed how the writer Sonya Larson took lines from a heartfelt letter written by a fellow writer and acquaintance, Dawn Dorland, about her kidney donation, and used them in her short story about an insufferable kidney donor, named “Dawn” in the first draft.

The article painted Dorland as grasping for attention and praise, although a readthrough of all the court documents left me with a very different impression.

It depicted Sonya and her cohorts in the Chunky Monkey writing group as mean, and the group chats, emails, and text threads underscored this at every turn. I once admired Celeste Ng, even if her fiction wasn’t to my taste, and reading Ng’s texts to Larson declaring “DAWN CAN GO FUCK HER ONE KIDNEY” and so on really hurt. Christopher Castellani, the current artistic director of GrubStreet—a creative writing center in Boston where Dawn was a student and later an instructor—wrote of Dawn, “My mission in life is going to be to exact revenge on this pestilence of a person,” presumably for defending her intellectual property.

I wasn’t surprised at all, though, that the discourse in the first few days of the NYT article centered around criticism of Dawn Dorland’s character. Was the kidney donor bad, or very bad? Was she annoying, crazy, a narcissist, or, as Helen Rosner of The New Yorker quickly declared in a tweet, “a monster”?

Any talk about altruistic kidney donation inspires, in most people, a discussion of the character of the donor. Some people call the donor a saint, while every donor I’ve ever met will tell you this is far from the truth.

Others react with a knee-jerk viciousness and a mad scramble to prove the donor isn’t a good person. I’ve seen it happen in numerous comments sections of articles about donors over the years, and I’ve experienced it personally. In one of my writer Facebook groups where we all shared links to our publications, I shared an essay I’d gotten published about my kidney donation. From that point on, one woman responded to any post or comment about writing I made with angry words about my donation until I left the group. Some people who read the article got hold of my personal email address and sent me emails saying that I was a narcissist and they hoped I would die of surgery complications.

In Dorland’s case, writers who post repeatedly about their publications rushed to criticize her for posts about saving a life. They pored over her Instagram looking for evidence of less-than-virtuous motivations for donating, apparently never asking themselves what their own motivations were in all this.

I don’t understand why these people don’t approach the subject of kidney donation from the point of view of very ill people on dialysis, people who are dying of kidney disease, and their families and friends. Everything else is so trivial in comparison. There aren’t enough kidneys to go around. There are over 100,000 people on the waiting list in the U.S, and every single day, about thirteen people of those people die before they can get a transplant.

In other words: in the two hours after you finish reading this article, someone in the U.S. will die because they couldn’t get a kidney in time, and their family and friends will be devastated.

Donors who talk about their experiences frequently inspire other people to become donors. Also, the donor’s motivations, whatever they may be, don’t affect the kidney’s function. These facts seem self-evident, yet they must be carefully explained to people who have barely considered the recipients.

I personally didn’t write any letters to my anonymous kidney recipient, and I didn’t feel sentimental about the process. It was rational; I knew lots of people would die without a kidney, and I could get by without one of mine. However, after my surgery, I got a packet of letters from my transplant coordinator, written by members of my recipient’s family, with their names redacted. The letters made me understand the hopelessness the recipient’s wife had felt and just how difficult it can be for a whole family when one person has end-stage kidney disease. His granddaughter wrote that she could go to the beach with her grandfather again; his daughter said he could now see her graduate.

The writer Roxane Gray and another writer with whom I’m unfamiliar shared a joke (an unoriginal one, when it comes to donors) about how maybe Dorland didn’t really donate a kidney, after all. I don’t think they would’ve done this if they’d been focused on the experience of people with kidney disease and their families. They’d realize that using a huge personal platform to denigrate and cast doubt on a kidney donor might discourage others from talking about it, which could lead to fewer new donors and more deaths.

“Bad Art Friend” inspired thousands of snarky memes and quips. But no one’s hot take, no one’s calling someone “needy” in a bid for likes and follows, is worth making fun of kidney donation.

Larson has defended her decision to lift lines from Dorland’s letter by saying the letter was “too good”—meaning, as far as I can tell, too worthy of scorn. Larson also calls the letter “informational,” comparing it to, among other things, the text of a menu. These things, of course, can’t both be true.

Dorland wrote this letter about doing a the best thing she’ll probably ever do in her lifetime, and in the letter, she talked about childhood trauma and abuse. The intensely personal and vulnerable nature of the letter might be why it hurt Dorland so much when a colleague harvested it for a contemptuous short story.

But in the short story, “The Kindest,” even the appropriation doesn’t bother me as much as the way the author depicts the kidney transplant procedure. It’s not remotely realistic, and I find this sloppiness disrespectful. I don’t have patience for readers who make a big deal about small errors in a story, but in this case, I didn’t feel convinced the writer had done as much as a five-minute Google search. The most generous interpretation is that it was meant to be magical realism, although the rest of the story doesn’t read that way. If the author had taken more time to investigate the real experiences of kidney transplant recipients, who knows? She might’ve behaved very differently, and she might’ve written a very different story.

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