In a nice example of “don’t feed the trolls” pre-internet, a letter criticizing a Gore Vidal article ends with:
Why do I go on like this? I have rarely read so self-serving and stupid a piece of anti-criticism and anti-intellectualism as “Plastic Fiction.” So obviously stupid that I should know better than to respond at all. He’s just trying to sucker us into getting angry again, and I’ve fallen for it.
Vidal’s response is, of course, more expert trolling:
I don’t think much comment from me is in order. The gentleman from Virginia assures us, perhaps unnecessarily, that he is neither “a famous writer” not “even a famous critic.” From the evidence of his “insanely angry” prose, I suspect he is also neither a writer nor a critic. But he does teach school and like so many of the new barbarians out there in the weed-grown, chigger-infested groves of Academe, he thinks himself an intellectual. This is delusion. For one thing, intellectuals don’t misread texts: “He asks for books the kids will want to read. Something klassy to compete with TV,” etc. Quite the reverse. Intellectuals also try not to fall into the dread pit of non-sequitur: “Henry Adams is ‘out of date’; soon Pynchon will be ‘out of date’ too. obviously writers should have no ideas at all.” Sentence Two bears no relationship to Sentence One, while…. Well, I can’t correct all the bad writing in the country. Even so, I want very much to be helpful. But my civilizing task will not succeed unless the not-so-happy tenured many accept the plain fact that when it comes to matters of prose and of fiction at this time and in this place, I am authority.
“How can Vidal possibly think–” I begin to say in exasperation, and then remember the letter-writer’s last line, and realize that he got the better of the exchange after all

