I mean… I think lit culture has pretty firmly reconstituted itself at this point. Lots of places running long-form pieces, people talking about books everywhere, the big British institutions (apart from the TLS) solidly on the web, civilised conversational communities if you know where to look… there really is absolutely no reason to worry whatsoever – it’s still ticking along, it’s all still going and in fifty years time a cadre of intense young men will definitely be writing 4,500-word pieces rediscovering (Abiezer Coppe|Christopher Smart|William Gerhardie) for almost no money.
I think we’ve found our own way of being boring too. Ponderous lucubrations about DFW or the central Europeans.
Me? I’ve retired. Every evening I sit in my armchair and read aloud passages from Paradise Lost in a Lumpy Space Princess voice. It passes the time.