They Could No Longer Contain Themselves:
A Collection of Five Flash Chapbooks
by Elizabeth J. Colen, John Jodzio,
Tim Jones-Yelvington, Sean Lovelace, and Mary Miller
Rose Metal Press, 2011
248 pages / $15.95 Buy from Rose Metal Press
Rating: 7.0
The problem with collections of flash fiction is their unevenness, or that the reader recognizes the unevenness more than in, say, a novel. Maybe this also applies to story collections, especially non-linked stories, though there are a few that come away feeling complete–to me, usually collections with fewer stories. I can’t think of a single flash collection that does not seem hill-and-valley. They Could No Longer Contain Themselves is no exception. I find it interesting to note, however, that the chapbooks that were linked helped me see past the valleys, as I was always aware of the range. Okay, enough of this terrible analogy. On to the individual chapbooks.
Just one reader’s note: Going into TCNLCT, I had read Sean Lovelace’s How Some People Like Their Eggs, which won Rose Metal Press’s chapbook competition and which I figured would be the standout. As I was reading, I changed my mind away and then back again.
TCNLCT begins with John Jodzio’s Do Not Touch Me Not Now Not Ever. This first chapbook seemed the least strong to me. I have been and am a fan of Jodzio’s work, but when read together, the stories in DNTMNNNE seemed to rely too much on premise. If the premise succeeded, the story succeeded, but if not, not. I would fully expect a reader who came across the stories individually to walk away impressed, but the effect together was to make the writer seem in a rut.
The second chapbook is Mary Miller’s Paper and Tassels. Miller is a favorite, but these shorts didn’t have the ballast of some of her other stories, for me. A few still transcend and are some of the best in the book, but others fail to hit that emotional register that is at the core of a Mary Miller success. Miller’s stories, to me, seem to burn and burn until you realize you’re on fire, but here, some of these stories seem in embers.
Elizabeth Colen’s careful prose and intricate interweavings in Dear Mother Monster, Dear Daughter Mistake made the stories that nearly made me forget the rest of the book. A pleasant surprise–of the five authors, I was least familiar with Colen’s fiction. Yet that first story is a killer, and the interplay thereafter carries the reader through the weaker stories. There is poetry in this chapbook. A lot of it.
In contrast, Tim Jones-Yelvington’s Evan’s House and the Other Boys Who Live There contains the least poetry. At first, I thought this lack would lose me, but as the stories keep building, it’s hard not to see the charm in their architecture. I fell for the brick-like work they did in creating a whole. Some stories are far more like tiny chapters than like stand-alone stories, perhaps weaker alone, but stronger for the overall arc. My only complaint is with those stories that do not do that brick work as well, and with the bylines, which were an unneeded gimmick and seemed forced upon the structure authorially. But as a whole, quite strong.
Lastly, Lovelace’s How Some People Like Their Eggs, except for that Charlie Brown miss at the beginning, is so true and diamond-cut that it made me fall for it all over again. How could I forget that voice! These are five original voices–that’s the main thing TCNLCT has going for it–but Lovelace, maybe with the exception of Miller, has the most authority behind his style. These stories really sing, and in an associative way. They linger past their reading. You’re never done with them, and they’re never done with you.
Tags: Elizabeth J. Colen, john jodzio, mary miller, rose metal press, Sean Lovelace, They Could No Longer Contain Themselves, Tim Jones-Yelvington
Anonymous reviews are ridiculous. If you’re not brave enough to put your name to any critical statements then you shouldn’t bother reviewing other peoples work.
i demand your full name, ridley. there’s no point in commenting if we can’t see your full name.
and also your mother’s maiden name.
my mother’s maiden name is miller, btw. i was made by two very white people.
And to think that you can submit an anonymous review and believe the “we won’t tell” pledge. That may be very well stated with honor and promise, but humans being as they are, I’m sure the true anonymity of these reviewers won’t remain anonymous.
People are pretty famous for saying things like, “Okay, but promise not to tell anyone if I tell you…” and similar such acts. I see no reason that under duress or momentary lapses in judgement and inebriated highs and lows that small cracks of anonymity will appear among the HTML fortress.
So, just saying, if you’re going to submit “anonymously” just know that really it won’t be such.
I’m playing by the rules established by HTML.
bro…
Well, here’s a question–and I plead ignorance if this was covered already–does the writer know the identity of the reviewer? Seems to me the spirit of the review is what’s most important and if the reviewer remains unknown to the writer, it could seem less professionally nepotistic.
When I have reviewed, I’ve tried to always read with the text, understand its motives and ambitions, and discuss how the book meets or fails to meet its aesthetic goals or even comment on the social or aesthetic space the book inhabits. Reviewing is tough as shit to do well, so more often than not, I don’t meet my own goals.
I think Rain Taxi’s policy of reviewing is a good alternative as well. At the end of the day, I hope to make it as much about the text as possible. I almost always avoid reviewing close friends.
Tell that to Kirkus Reviews.
And so on August 2, 2011, HTML Giant published an anonymous review of a chapbook collection. Hours later, the machines became sentient, and humanity was enslaved. HTML Giant, you were our undoing.
Come on, we’re all avatars here.
Even if you knew my name, I’d still, more than likely, be functionally anonymous to you.
so is this review
I must be honest and say that I have not taken the time yet since the book came out to reread these chapbooks, the last time I read them was when we circulated them privately between ourselves over a year ago, and more than any of our previous reviews, this one made me want to go back and reread them. I am very glad Elizabeth Colen is getting the praise and attention she deserves. It does seem to be true that there is something ephemeral about Mary Miller’s book that is causing reviewers to stumble over how to talk about it, and being kind of a Mary Miller fanboi, I would like to be able to engage in more of a conversation about it, but all I can remember from my initial read is thinking, THIS IS GREAT I LOVE MARY MILLER. …This business of some stories burning more intensely than others interests me, because I sometimes suspect that there is maybe something especially idiosyncratic abt what texts connect w/ which readers where very short fiction/prose is concerned …This would also seem to apply to this statement abt John’s stories falling short when the premise fails. Would we all agree on which premises fail? I agree John’s pieces are driven by premise, at least in this collection, they remind me a bit of premise-driven very short pieces by folks like Etgar Keret and Michael Czyzniejewski.
I am interested in engaging in a conversation abt what constitutes “poetry,” not as a defensive move, but out of my own curiosity/interest. Is poetry in prose abt acoustics and chiseling shit on the sentence level? Is it abt how a text is stylized? Or is it about image and figurative language? Style, acoustics and the crafting of sentences interest me a lot, but the figurative thing is way rougher. I am asking this also because some of what I have attempted in some of my work w/ stuff like colloquialism and repetition I think maybe gets more often categorized as “voice” than “poetry,” including the one or two things I’ve done that had line breaks.
I can see why there is a need for anonymous reviews and I am interested to see where these go. However, I don’t understand what, in this review, demands anonymity. This review offers a valid perspective, not a condemnation. I guess I wonder what the threshold for anonymity is, what compels someone to say, I can’t or won’t put my name on this.
the gentleman/lady merely asks that you identify slanderers so that s/he might dust their faces with a limp glove.
“HTML fortress” seems like something Kitchell would want to live in.
You know, you have to pay (“license”) Kirkus to use their reviews on web sites or book jackets or promo materials.
I think we have to move beyond this idea that anonymity only serves assholes who want to be assholes.
Anonymous reviews might simply allow the reviewer more freedom to say what he or she wants to say. If it helps the reviewer write his review, why not? Who cares? Why are some so insistent on taking attendance?
I’m also working under the assumption that most of these reviews are written by writers, which can be awkward and uneasy because the writer reviewing another writer’s work doesn’t have the kind of distance a critic has when reviewing a writer’s work.
If people disagree with the critic, he’s just a stupid critic anyway–what do critics, those people who are failed writers, really know?
If people disagree with a writer who happens to be wearing the critic’s hate, it changes everything, and we all know it and it does no good to pretend that there isn’t a difference between the two.
Does it bother you that people can express critical views without you having access to their identities? Would you like to keep such people in their places, to keep track of them at all times?
Does it bother you that people can express critical views without you having access to their identities? Would you like to keep such people in their places, to keep track of them at all times?
I’d like to see more analysis of subject matter and meaning and less “I think this” and good/bad judgment per the reviewer’s opinion.
I read reviews to get a glimpse of what a work is about, how it goes about getting there and how it slots into the greater literary-cultural-historical dialogue. That’s critical analysis: give the reader of a review something to talk and think about, and maybe she’ll check out the book for herself.
A reviewer’s opinion should be secondary (if even necessary), not primary. Every paragraph in the piece above says “I” or “me,” often numerous times, which puts the focus on the reviewer (not the work) and on opinion (not analysis).
Too often in the lit blog world, there seems to be a whole lotta focus on opinion — i.e., personal *reaction* to a book — in lieu of in-depth digging into a text, exploration of meaning, dissection of narrative, connection to larger ideas.
Look at the review from yesterday v. the one today. You can argue yesterday’s was over-the-top academic, but it was at least BIG PICTURE. Today’s is far from it. I mean, can anyone tell from this review what these individual collections are about?
I realize there’s a limited word count on these anonymous pieces, and I know from experience the challenge of writing meaningful capsule reviews, especially for multi-artist works, and I also get that no one’s getting paid, but still… there’s gotta be more to this new reviews section. Or else, what’s the value to HTMLGIANT’s readers or to the writers of these small-press books?
I guess I’m calling on the editor gods for more critical analysis, more intellectual rigor, and less subjectivity/opinion/judgment/me-writing. Without such an effort, I’m afraid these HTMLGIANT reviews will be no more relevant or useful than what Ms. Suzy has to say on Suzy Q’s Book Blog. And — in *my* opinion — that would be a wasted opportunity to serve the indie-lit community.
you may comment anonymously on the anonymous reviews on tuesday, wednesday, and thursday; however, please comment with your full name on the feature reviews on monday and friday.
those are the rules.
My issue is if a “writer” is going to wear the hat(e) of a “critic,” then said writer needs to critically analyze and not just spout personal opinion. (please see my thoughts above, if ya like)
Sorry for the typo–I was logged out of Disqus and can’t edit it now.
I agree: writers need to critically analyze the text and not just spout their personal opinion, but I don’t think this changes how others might perceive a “negative” review written by a writer as opposed to Michael Dirda.
Love the typo! I think you should keep it. I’m with you as well. I want to change the discourse, though. Who cares about anonymous or pseudonymous or God-given surnames? The more important point is how to write a review, i.e., how to critically analyze a text w/out being academic and w/out spouting off about me me me…
“a text w/out being academic and w/out spouting off about me me me…”
I think this is one reason why I like the idea of anonymous reviews. There is so much narcissism online now that a little anonymity–if used properly–can force the reviewer to focus on the text.
I’m hopefully waiting, imploring…
If someone critically and with expert analysis demolished your book anonymously you would be okay with that?
You wouldn’t feel some additional anger that the person didn’t have the integrity to publish it with their real name? I would find that difficult to believe.
I totally agree that this first impressions and personal taste stuff persists throughout most of online reviewing and exists for a number of reasons, most of which you named – time, no pay, etc. Then what’s a 300-500 anonymous review, really? An anonymous opinion. Which is, in my opinion, the lamest or most unnecessary kind of review. If you have a strong opinion, good or bad, at least put your name to it. That’s all I’m saying.
It is an anonymous opinion-only, which, I agree, is pointless. That’s part of what I was getting at in my original comment. Bottom line for me, though, is opinion v. analysis not no-name v. name.
Would I feel beat up if someone demolished my book? Of course. But I don’t know that I’d care more or less knowing the hater’s name. It’s not like I’m gonna release the hounds or send out my mafioso cousins to right the wrong.
What matters to me most is well-supported, big-picture analysis — Expository Writing 101 — of which there’s so little these days, post-American Idol, post-Amazon star system, post-FB, post-Twitter, post-gutted daily newspaper book-review sections… and yet everyone and their grandmas feel compelled to thumbs-up or thumbs-down the books they read, if read is even a term that can be applied to cracking open a book and looking at the words on the pages. At best, I can say, thank you for getting what I was getting at! Thank you for a feeling of connection! At worst, if it’s legit critical analysis, then I can learn. I like to think I’m open to all reasonable feedback.
While I realize my book’s not for everyone, I am confident that it holds up to serious criticism. I’m also sure this first novel is not perfect — what is? and who cares? — but I do know it works on multiple levels, and I’ve received enough critical reviews that validate this position.
The couple of brutal “reviews” I’ve received are opinion-based exclusively, where the so-called reviewers write from either a) a perspective of expectation/preconception, b) a judgment-bloated myopic viewpoint that doesn’t attempt to “let the book teach the reader how to read it” (paraphrase of Kundera) let alone aim to grasp or convey the meat of the story to potential readers, or c) a severely limited perspective (from what I can tell by reading between the lines) in terms of life and literary/cultural experience. Now that I understand this, I’m more OK with it, I hope. But it’s still upsetting in the same way hate, greed, meanness, violence, selfishness and World Without End upset: Why are we all so ignorant? Why do we insist on self-destruction?
It is an anonymous opinion-only, which, I agree, is pointless. That’s part of what I was getting at in my original comment. Bottom line for me, though, is opinion v. analysis not no-name v. name.
Would I feel beat up if someone demolished my book? Of course. But I don’t know that I’d care more or less knowing the hater’s name. It’s not like I’m gonna release the hounds or send out my mafioso cousins to right the wrong.
What matters to me most is well-supported, big-picture analysis — Expository Writing 101 — of which there’s so little these days, post-American Idol, post-Amazon star system, post-FB, post-Twitter, post-gutted daily newspaper book-review sections… and yet everyone and their grandmas feel compelled to thumbs-up or thumbs-down the books they read, if read is even a term that can be applied to cracking open a book and looking at the words on the pages. At best, I can say, thank you for getting what I was getting at! Thank you for a feeling of connection! At worst, if it’s legit critical analysis, then I can learn. I like to think I’m open to all reasonable feedback.
While I realize my book’s not for everyone, I am confident that it holds up to serious criticism. I’m also sure this first novel is not perfect — what is? and who cares? — but I do know it works on multiple levels, and I’ve received enough critical reviews that validate this position.
The couple of brutal “reviews” I’ve received are opinion-based exclusively, where the so-called reviewers write from either a) a perspective of expectation/preconception, b) a judgment-bloated myopic viewpoint that doesn’t attempt to “let the book teach the reader how to read it” (paraphrase of Kundera) let alone aim to grasp or convey the meat of the story to potential readers, or c) a severely limited perspective (from what I can tell by reading between the lines) in terms of life and literary/cultural experience. Now that I understand this, I’m more OK with it, I hope. But it’s still upsetting in the same way hate, greed, meanness, violence, selfishness and World Without End upset: Why are we all so ignorant? Why do we insist on self-destruction?
I have to say I disagree with this a whole lot. Reviews are about opinions. I want to know if someone whose opinion I respect (for well known reviewers) likes or does not like a book. I want to know why they like or don’t like a book. I even want to know these things if I don’t know the reviewer. I want to know how the book made them feel. I can do the critical analysis on my own. I don’t need someone to tell me what or how to think. Your comments imply that you’re expecting reviewers to approach books academically only as if there is only merit in the analytical. Reviews aren’t designed to help you, as a writer, learn. That’s a nice side effect but reviewers are about discussing your book with potential readers. I’ve seen the reviews of your book, particularly on Goodreads and the one that lead to a contentious discussion, was in fact a solid, pretty thorough review. It was brutal, but not a poorly written review. It’s equally myopic to suggest that because a reviewer didn’t love your book or discuss it the way you want your book discussed they were being myopic or writing from a severely limited perspective. I just do not understand this attitude at all. My goodness, people are reading and talking about books and you’ll be hard pressed to find people who want to review your book if they know that you have a rigid expectations for how they address your book. There are some great critical, analytical reviews out there but not everyone has the skillset or interest in doing them. I have to believe there is room in the critical sphere for all kinds of reviews from, “Hey this is why I loved or hated this book,” to “This book has complex theoretical underpinnings.”
I think people are under the false assumption that it’s my belief that in knowing the negative reviewer’s name that it’s for the sole purpose of retribution. No, I believe that anonymity changes the approach to the review whether it’s negative or positive. Putting your name next to the work supplies an honest context to the review.
Also, it can work the other way. I’m not saying that all anonymous reviews will be negative. I’m sure the anonymous moniker will give some people a well-greased opportunity to shower writers with over the top praises and bestow genius-level comparisions, etc., without being responsible for their written words and have to own up to peers second-guessing motivation and such.
Then again, this opinion-review business has gotten so out of hand that I’ve literally read reviews that start this way: “First of all, “x” writer is enormously talented and one the finest writers of our generation. Second, “x book” is probably the best book I’ve read in a long time.”
Now, that may be well and true, but it reeks of something else.
I think most will agree that — since we’re talking about They Could No Longer… – Tim and Mary and Co. are super talented writers, seriously. No doubt about it. But, they are still emerging, and I don’t think any of them, if you asked, would say that they’ve written their best work already. Therefore, there’s ample room for critical insight and review in their work — as you’ve been pointing out.
And too, a lot of people just aren’t up to writing an honest and critical review of a peer that they admire or are courting for future favors or networking. And for good reason. Writers, most of them, are sensitive and finicky folks. There’s just as much back-stabbing, career jeopardizing, unsubstantiated gossip stuff in this business as there is in any other field. So, yeah, choose wisely.
So… do you think we can revert to a more critical approach or are we kind of stuck wiht the way things are? Some would say, based on a few of the comments I’ve read, that, hey, it is what it is. It is the Amazon review culture. And maybe that’s the truth of the matter.
That’s your right. Those kinds of reviews generally bore me to tears. All that critical analytical stuff I have to do for my day job. I have less than no interest in it during my free time. I want to write about how I reacted to a book. Part of that will extend to what I think, critically, about a book. Some people like this review style and some don’t, and that’s fine. There’s room. I can whip out the critical analysis but it takes a lot of fucking time of which I have not so much. The thing is that most people who review books are doing it above and beyond jobs, family, writing, etc. The reason you don’t see the rigorous reviews you’re looking for as much anymore is because people are no longer being paid to write them. I also have to say I grow weary of the constant criticism of the lit blog world. It’s too this, it’s too that, wah wah wah, well if all these things bother you (generally speaking), create the change you’re looking for instead of standing around, pointing at everything that’s “wrong.” Armchair quarterbacking is really easy.
I’ll also say that Big Other does some really nice critical reviews of the style you like. They don’t seem to get as much attention as they deserve but that kind of critical work is taking place in the lit blogosphere. Also, the Los Angeles Review of Books is doing brilliant, brilliant critical work right now. The Smart Set out of Drexel is doing outstanding work–Jessa Crispin’s recent review essays about the literature of the mistress and the aesthetic of dead girls are sublime. I could go on. My point, I suppose, is that HTMLGIANT can’t be everything to everybody. Some critical work is happening here, some is happening elsewhere. All of it is part of a pretty great conversation that you might be missing by focusing on what isn’t taking place instead of what is.
“Putting your name next to the work supplies an honest context to the review”?
Really? So all reviews are created equally? Amazon reviews don’t count as “reviews”? If I review a book on Amazon, I need to use my real name to provide an “honest context”?
No offense to HTMLGiant, but I don’t see its book review section as a competitor of the NYT BR, Washington Post Book World.
My thought was HTML’s ambition was not to be an Amazon-like gathering of knee jerk reactions and a scattered-shot blast of impassioned thoughts and opinions. That was my point of reference with my initial reaction to the anonymous arrangement.
But, perhaps I was wrong. Obviously HTML can do whatever they want.
I don’t get your position, Roxane. You say you want to hear the opinion of a critic you respect. That’s fair enough b/c you know their work and how their mind works so you know where you might stand on a book in relation to where they stand.
But anonymous reviews don’t offer that. I mean, c’mon… opinions are like what? Everyone has one. And the analogy goes full circle.
It’s not about approaching a text academically. I already discussed this. I don’t think that’s the answer at all. It’s about trying to read a work the way it’s written. To read from a place of non-expectation and openness, to sink into the world of the book, or if challenged while there, to swim around in it, go with it, don’t retreat, see what’s what and why, etc. It’s about exploring a text. It’s about seeking to understand something else, something outside of the self, not whining about how a book doesn’t slot into one’s own limited worldview. At least that’s how I read. It’s how I approach criticism, too: from an open, inquisitive perspective.
Reviews are not supposed to be about the reviewer. They’re supposed to be about the work.
If I may suggest, perhaps you’re conditioned to read in a different way from being an editor for so long. You have to make yes/no, right/wrong decisions all the time. I understand this. But reading to choose the appropriate work for your magazine is not the same, I’ll argue, as reading to review (critically analyze) a work for a publication that aims to inform potential readers about new books and initiate literary dialogue. You said it yourself: “Reviewers are about discussing your book with potential readers.” In this case, how does opinion matter? Tell me about the work, so I can decide if I might want to check it out myself. This is not someone “telling me what or how to think.” Seriously? Compare NYTimes Book Reviews or Harper’s or the Atlantic or whatever legit venue you like, and tell me they’re all about opinion or they’re telling you what to think. No. They’re digging into the text and initiating dialogue.
Fundamentally, this is what makes sense from a critical perspective. I’ve worked for many years for newspapers and magazines and the kind of stuff that passes on blogs for “reviews” would never fly with professional editors kicking the reviewer’s ass. Sure, they want opinion b/c that’s what gets readership up — oh, I agree w/ him! oh, he’s a douche! — but that merely perpetuates a culture of judgment, in my opinion, which is the opposite of engaging passionately with art. And yet still, in those venues, you have to dig in, explore and explain.
Since you brought it up — interesting how you bring up the Goodreads and not the James Greer or Karen Lillis or Antonia Crane or Spencer Dew critical (and yes, positive) reviews — that Goodreads thing was a joke that turned into an absurdity. Adam Robinson warned me not to get into it, but I wanted to see for myself, and what I saw was a total lack of interest in talking about the work and a ganging up on the writer (me) for having the audacity to respond to what I perceived as a b.s. reading of my work based on factual errors and lazy so-called reviewing. If you think a review means pointing out minutiae that works or doesn’t work for said reviewer, and that that somehow enlightens a reader about whether or not said reader might like a book or not, well, you’re entitled to your opinion. I, on the other hand, think that’s a ridiculous way to approach art and talking about art.
Look at Blake’s American Psycho review from yesterday. That’s criticism — and opinion — well-supported, big-picture. He’s not picking out lines here and there. And the stuff he’s unclear or uncertain of, he talks about in that way. And he places his review in a historical-cultural-literary context. That’s how you write about books. If a “reviewer” doesn’t have the capacity to do this, then I’ll argue all day and night that he or she should not be reviewing books.
Bottom line: It’s not about the reviewer, it’s about the work. Simple as that. I have to go do a show now.
I don’t have a strong opinion on anonymous reviews… I was just saying I don’t mind knowing whether or not someone likes or doesn’t like a book. I don’t always need a critical review. The Goodreads review was the first that came to mind. I didn’t feel it necessary to name check everywhere your book was reviewed. I’ll also say that my review approach and stance has nothing to do with editing which is like 5% of what I do. My overall perspective on this likely comes from being in academia where I have to do critical analysis as part of my professional work. You say, “It’s about trying to read a work the way it’s written.” This is not possible. This kind of analytical purity does not exist.
I don’t begrudge your stance. I simply have a differing opinion.
I wasn’t comparing HTMLG directly to Amazon–I was making a point about the vast array of “review contexts.”
This is a blog, so there’s more room for flexibility and experimentation than in a more traditional format.
I felt both interested and a little bored, but not too unpleasantly mixed to finish, while reading this comment.
I give it a qualified thumbs-up.
I’m slightly glad that I’m writing and will soon post this response.
Ummm, you might want to chill that chapmpagne, bro —- http://www.mediafire.com/?nk5cpzqovr0ve2b
I’m glad that one of jesusangelgarcia’s “right[s]” is being observed and, in a way, respected, though mentioning that “right” in this way feels to me like childish ju-jutsu.
I feel encouraged that this comment balanced personal emotions with analysis. The use of exemplification to justify the assertion that options exist gladdened my ‘instinct’ for empirical defense of critique.
I find the scolding defensiveness of the comment’s concluding sentence both accurate and somehow comical.
I feel relaxed and confident writing this comment, but suspect it won’t be received in a fun way, which makes me feel both assertive and self-protective; see what I mean?
LOL.
wowser
david and brandon are peaches of a goblin cobbler
–but agnes is a true lamb of tiny-minded malice
Goodreads=Serious Business.
Honestly, I think it’s a mess. I’ve been touring the country for six weeks on a two-month jag, so to speak. On one hand, from what I’ve seen, the level of art/writing/performance/etc. is as high as it’s ever been, I’ll wager. Tonight’s performances in Chicago at Nerves of Steel were over-the-top, world-class, inspiring on so many levels. On the flipside, everyone wants free shows and free music and free stuff to read, etc. There’s a glut of “product” out there, which maybe leads to a superficial consumption of culture. People seem to be more into quantity over quality, and I’m not talking about the art they consume but the way they consume it. Of course, this doesn’t include everyone, but the majority, I’m guessing, probably, no?
We all know this. It’s just ugly and sad to experience it up close. I’m a newbie, though. This is my first book. I’m idealistic, maybe. I believe in connection and communication and understanding and solidarity and collective power and “indie community” and fucking shit up and so on. Problem is, the so-called community is fractured, as are readers’ brains, perhaps. Which leads to Amazon review culture (b/c it’s easy, thoughtless, rack up those “reviews” so you can call yourself a reviewer so you can get free stuff) and a solipsistic notion that “my opinion” NEEDS to be known by the world, regardless of my investment in articulating said opinion or understanding the stuff I’m opinionated about. Whatever. I’m not a fan of “it is what it is,” but c’est la vie, si?
I guess I expected more from HTMLGIANT. I love a lot of the posts I’ve encountered here. They’ve made me rethink some things and think of new things. When I first got here, I thought this place was kin to old-school punk in a number of ways. Countercultural. For life. Now I’m thinking… maybe not so much.
I hear you on Big Other, Roxane. And LARB. And there are others, of course. Bookslut tends to kick ass. But numbers-wise, it seems to me that there are far more of the opinion-based, superficial “reviews” being published than the, let’s say, more deeply considered ones. I just don’t see the point or the value on so many levels.
As you say, it takes a lot of time to write a serious review (critical analysis). But how long does it take to write a book? And why publish a less-than-serious review?
Further, if these so-called book reviewers/critics really believe in or love books, then why not find/make the time to substantially engage with them? Otherwise, what’s the point in publishing a “review”? Why does everyone believe their reactionary opinions need to be heard?
This is what bothers me. And saying this stuff is OK or just the way it is feels like accepting a dumbing down of the last vestiges of culture that once provided the greatest opportunity for self-reflection. Reading used to mean thinking. Maybe no one reads that way anymore. Maybe I’m just old-school. Maybe I expected more from HTMLGIANT. I care because I care about this place. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe not so much, e-intimacy and all that.
I hear you. For the record, I don’t believe in analytical purity. I don’t believe in purity period. But I do believe in giving yourself over to a book or any work of art. I don’t believe in preconceptions and I have zero faith in judgment, especially as entertainment. I think it’s a false way of moving through the world. I think it creates artificial separation.
beautiful!
i read this review because i know some of those reviewed in it. likewise, i might have read the review if i knew the reviewer. otherwise, i’d be with jesus and ask to what end is it to know someone’s opinion?
reviews that don’t go beyond this, into some kind of literature themselves, as well stated as they might be–and this one is–are like an extension of the workshop, an opinion you can take or leave at your convenience. i suppose it might come down to the little use i have for the workshop myself, while knowing that others i like and respect have considerable use.
ha ha ha ha ha
serious fucking bidnis buddy
Somebody needs to chill out and read a good book.
Bookslut does kick ass. I didn’t mention them because I write for them.
Substantial engagement takes many different forms.
I also believe that it’s hysterical and short sighted to suggest that our culture is just so very dumb. It’s lazy (and I’m not speaking just to your comments) to reflexively rend your garments about how diluted our intellectual culture has become. That is not the case or we would not be having this conversation. Our culture is changing and all of us are learning how to maintain critical rigor across new mediums. HTMLGIANT is doing all kinds of things great and small. As I said before, the site cannot be everything. No one site can. Instead, you need to consider how a range of sites, magazines, and other outlets are working in concert.
I’d love to see you write one of these reviews you are looking for, when you have the time. I’m interested in what you would have to say about a book you enjoyed.
I too am interested in this “hill-and-valley” idea. I have to disagree with the idea that flash collections are more prone to this “unevenness” than a novel. For me, unevenness is easier to spot/to become distracted by in a novel because of the way I read them. A cohesive hole, in most cases, I’m concerned with how it builds, how it sustains, how it pushes the plot. In a collection of stories, or even poems, I’m concerned, first and foremost, with the individuality and expressiveness in its contained form of each piece. Not until the end do I concern myself with how the collection as a whole renders itself. Sure, I notice the ups and downs, but that in itself doesn’t become a problem for me. I hope this makes sense. Here’s a simpler thing:
A novel, in most senses, for me is the journey from Point A to Point B, where I notice the twists and bumps, both in writing and in story.
A collection, in most senses, for me is the Points (A, B, C…) which are the stories/poems, where not til the end do I add them up and call them a journey.
Now i know this has little to do with this particular story collection(s), but I was very much intrigued by the opening of this review.
I don’t believe we’re dumb — not all of us, anyway — but I think even the brightest are often so overstimulated and overextended that skimming culture is now more the norm than deep immersion. And everyone wants free everything. Wasn’t there a recent post on HTMLG about an “illegal downloading” binge? Maybe I’m nostalgic for a fairy tale that never existed. I did read, however, that 100 – 50 years ago(?) a novel would get hundreds — hundreds! — of reviews, serious reviews, in newspapers around the country. And in this way cultural conversations were launched across demographics and readers found books. Those days are long gone and the replacement — opinion blah blah even sometimes in badass lit circles like here — feeds an American Idol (judgment as entertainment) culture, to my mind, which I just can’t hang with. That’s just me.
Here’s a review I wrote: http://vol1brooklyn.com/2010/10/25/amelia-gray-lindsay-hunter-on-the-big-ugly/
I don’t have the time to write reviews like this anymore and produce the kind of creative work I’m interested in. I think that’s the case for many of the writers out there. I’m not rending my garments (nice phrase, by the way) about that. But I am questioning the value of reviews that aren’t really reviews. Bottom line for me: Opinions are not reviews; they’re opinions. (And yes, I realize this is an opinion and others have the right to alternate ones.) My journalism experience tells me reviews are critical analysis written in a way that speaks to the readership of the publication where they’re published. Ja.
Pizza time now… I am in Chicago, after all. Thanks for the dialogue, Roxane. I think it was good.
This review is not just about the reader’s experience, there’s a lot here about form and aesthetics. It is maybe true that the reviewer does not provide contextualizing information for people who have not read the book — ie, they could have explained that my contribution is framed by an interlocking set of six pieces about the same character, so folks would know better what they were talking about w/ regard to the architecture and stories-as-bricks — but that does not mean they are not doing real analytical work, it’s just analysis of aesthetics more than content, which I think is perfectly appropriate for htmlgiant.
i don’t know. aren’t all reviews opinions?
Aesthetics is fine as an angle, Tim. As you mention, though, there needs to be contextualizing info, or else there’s not enough there to have any idea what’s going on, unless the review is geared toward those who have already read the book, which, if true, is a totally different conversation.
They are, Matt. But an opinion that feeds an ARGUMENT — a premise, an angle, a statement about what the work’s about that’s supported w/ evidence from the text and contextualized w/in literary-cultural-historical conversation — is not the same as simply an opinion being tossed off as a review. In other words, saying “I like this about this book” or “This doesn’t work for me in this book b/c I was expecting something different” are not premises. A premise — the point of an argument/review — has to prove a… point(!!!) about the big picture of the work. The point can’t simply be “I like” or “I don’t like.” It’s gotta be about the work, I’m arguing, not about the reviewer’s personal preference, which of course comes into play w/in the context of analysis — just not as the primary focus.
I appreciate this review, anonymous or not. I wrote most of these flashes while I was teaching myself to write, and it’s a bit weird to have them in the world as a collection now. This isn’t to say I don’t like it or don’t think they’re good (or I wouldn’t have sent it out), but I also think they’re different from Big World and perhaps not as strong as the flashes in Less Shiny. And maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but, well, I don’t know. I felt the need to say something.
I also have to say that John’s collection impressed the hell out of me.
Also, there’s this: honest, anonymous reviews are better than totally glowing reviews just because we’re small press people and will need a good review in return.