If blogging isn't proof positive that the ohso '67 concept "Death of the Author" wasn't just abuncha theoretical puff-bluffing -- a radical reaction to the established literary criticism of the time -- tough luck pal (or dame). If you don't think that the World Wide Web has greatly altered, modified and/or progressed our concept/notion of what writing, reading, author & reader is, does, or how the vast informational processing ghostnotes float thru airs of daily, permeating everything we think knowledge is -- then look out for that snake afronta yer nose,
Self-evidence yes, easy seeings. Nothing has changed? For you perhaps, but the rest of the world is always moving on -- you'll get left behind if you continue with this antiquity fetish you've developed. What Canon? Fuck the Canon! Ain't not nothin' wrote in stone & brittle bones break from the extreme pressure of newer flesh generating generations of supplemental skin -- you shouldn't ignore it.
The Death of the Author has turned out to be a hollow epitaph just as with The Death of Painting -- lay your faith not with Academics, but with those whose fiery eyes blink past blank into the instant of uncooked instrumentality raw with brut foods never picked for eating, but for throwing at THOSE WHO think THEY KNOW it all already.
(like tomatoes thrown at the bad actor on stage)