adapted from a letter I wrote in an ongoing exchange I’ve been having with another writer/editor about the state of book reviews in the “online scene”…
This is a dynamic, emergent scene we’ve got going here, and we all learn on the job to some degree–me as much as anyone–but my baseline expectation is that if someone puts their work out into the public sphere, they are asserting that it belongs there, and are prepared for it to be judged against whatever else is out there already. Not in the sense of competition, but in the sense of discerning value–as in, I took the time to read this, what am I getting back for my time? What does this thing purport to do, and has it succeeded in doing so? I don’t think that’s too harsh a position to take, in fact it seems like the absolute bare minimum. (Our standards, probably, should be much higher than they are if we ever want to push ourselves beyond what we’ve already achieved–but we don’t have time to get into that right now.)
I think the real problem is that many people in our scene want to “review” because they want to be published, and the near complete absence of standards for reviews means you can pretty much always get a review “published” somewhere or other. But the people who write such “reviews” don’t have anything to say about a given book beyond “I liked it” or “this is my friend” or “this sucked.” I’m not sure if that’s because they actually can’t read critically, if they simply can’t articulate their thoughts, or if they’re simply disinclined to exert extra effort when the bar for achieving the “end goal” of publication on this or that website is so low it couldn’t possibly be out of reach–may possibly in fact have to be reached down for.
Or else people want to “review” books for the same reason they want to click the “like” icon under somebody’s facebook post. And I’ll be the first one to defend that kind of impulse. There’s a place for that. I write blog posts like that all the time. Sometimes it really is all that you want to say, or sometimes the work doesn’t warrant extended consideration. It’s there to be taken or left. But praising or damning a book is the work of a single sentence, paragraph at most. If the review is to be any longer–that is, if it is to truly *be* a review, it needs to do something more, or anyway, something else
Criticism and reviews are both meta-forms–if they don’t in some way amplify or complicate the subject of their focus, then they shouldn’t exist. So much of what passes for reviews or criticism that I read online seems not simply to fail to contribute to my understanding of the work under review, but actually to disrupt that understanding, or worse, to degrade the work. Put as simply and viciously as I can: a “reviewer”‘s windy, incoherent, sychophantic paean to the virtues of _______ is going to leave the reader (that is, the reader of the review) less inclined to read the work under review, because the work’s primary champion seems to be some kind of idiot. The drooling happiness of the idiot impresses nobody, and nobody wants to invest their money or time in the book that impressed the idiot. We understand this implicitly when we attack the NYT’s staff reviewers, so why is it so hard to see–and harder to still to call out–when its happening among our own ranks?
Tags: criticism, zip your fly up
I am begging for someone to start a column called the Review Review. if anyone is interested in reviewing reviews for HTML Giant, please drop me a line. but come hard.
I am begging for someone to start a column called the Review Review. if anyone is interested in reviewing reviews for HTML Giant, please drop me a line. but come hard.
this is good stuff, justin. well said!
this is good stuff, justin. well said!
Good observation, Justin. This is actually one of the reasons I don’t often review. Because it’s not worth doing unless it’s done well, and to do well, it requires quite a lot of work. Work that I’d more often than not spend on my own fiction, unless something exceptional comes along that I feel is either under- or misrepresented among my peers.
Good observation, Justin. This is actually one of the reasons I don’t often review. Because it’s not worth doing unless it’s done well, and to do well, it requires quite a lot of work. Work that I’d more often than not spend on my own fiction, unless something exceptional comes along that I feel is either under- or misrepresented among my peers.
Yeah, well said. When I’ve reviewed stuff in the past (admittedly not great reviews) I think I was still figuring out the form. That the stuff was published is maybe regrettable now, but I think that came with naively thinking I was writing good reviews because the editor was simply publishing them without comment. But yeah, well put – good reviews take a ton of work.
Yeah, well said. When I’ve reviewed stuff in the past (admittedly not great reviews) I think I was still figuring out the form. That the stuff was published is maybe regrettable now, but I think that came with naively thinking I was writing good reviews because the editor was simply publishing them without comment. But yeah, well put – good reviews take a ton of work.
Oh, and also: I feel the same way about interviews. Too often, I think, interviews take on a kind of overly-playful dimension that doesn’t help me understand the writer, or his/her work. I’ve myself participated in them, of course, and they’re not all bad–as Justin says about facile “I liked it” reviews, there’s a place for them. But a good interview requires work, requires the interviewer to actually read and be familiar enough with the interviewee’s work, that the questions can be probing and insightful, can lead to something interesting and charged, both for the writer and for the audience. I see too little of this online–and too much “What’s your favorite superpower?”
‘if they don’t in some way amplify or complicate the subject of their focus, then they shouldn’t exist.’
yes, well said.
Oh, and also: I feel the same way about interviews. Too often, I think, interviews take on a kind of overly-playful dimension that doesn’t help me understand the writer, or his/her work. I’ve myself participated in them, of course, and they’re not all bad–as Justin says about facile “I liked it” reviews, there’s a place for them. But a good interview requires work, requires the interviewer to actually read and be familiar enough with the interviewee’s work, that the questions can be probing and insightful, can lead to something interesting and charged, both for the writer and for the audience. I see too little of this online–and too much “What’s your favorite superpower?”
‘if they don’t in some way amplify or complicate the subject of their focus, then they shouldn’t exist.’
yes, well said.
Yes, reviews editors need to take some of the blame.
Yes, reviews editors need to take some of the blame.
i feel this, shya, tho it pains me– i’m a worshipful fletcher of playfulness.
would you agree that there is revelatory playfulness on one hand and, on the other, stupid, “i hope my favorite celebrity is kind of like my favorite uncle” playfulness?
i feel this, shya, tho it pains me– i’m a worshipful fletcher of playfulness.
would you agree that there is revelatory playfulness on one hand and, on the other, stupid, “i hope my favorite celebrity is kind of like my favorite uncle” playfulness?
I don’t think there’s any inherent contradiction between “probing and insightful” and “playful.” So maybe playful isn’t the right word. It’s the research I’m trying to draw attention to, the level of penetration the interviewer is attempting to achieve, both in preparation and in execution.
I don’t think there’s any inherent contradiction between “probing and insightful” and “playful.” So maybe playful isn’t the right word. It’s the research I’m trying to draw attention to, the level of penetration the interviewer is attempting to achieve, both in preparation and in execution.
this is compelling
this is compelling
I think the editor’s taste is more important whether it’s online or not. There’s plenty of people who are writing reviews for both presses, which would indicate they have plenty in common. Of course, print pays, whether it sucks or not, whether it’s read or not. And most of the time print reviewers write their reviews because they get paid (equivalent to the online pub cred).
Also, there’s plenty of room for reviews. The publishing industry in the States is gigantorish. If anything it seems that the online review people publish small presses almost exclusively and the print never publishes small press.
As a reader, sometimes I just want to know what a books about, and if I should read it. Personally, I think reading the review of the new Thomas Pynchon book is boring. I want to read about authors I don’t know about.
I think the editor’s taste is more important whether it’s online or not. There’s plenty of people who are writing reviews for both presses, which would indicate they have plenty in common. Of course, print pays, whether it sucks or not, whether it’s read or not. And most of the time print reviewers write their reviews because they get paid (equivalent to the online pub cred).
Also, there’s plenty of room for reviews. The publishing industry in the States is gigantorish. If anything it seems that the online review people publish small presses almost exclusively and the print never publishes small press.
As a reader, sometimes I just want to know what a books about, and if I should read it. Personally, I think reading the review of the new Thomas Pynchon book is boring. I want to read about authors I don’t know about.
agreed
agreed
I singled-handedly killed this topic. I am a(burrito).
I singled-handedly killed this topic. I am a(burrito).
there’s actually already a whole site out there called The Review Review, but it’s purpose is mainly to review lit journals rather than, specifically, book reviews:
http://thereviewreview.net/
A nice idea maybe but in this case too geared towards the reviewers flattering the journals so that they can get in some day.
Also, for Justin: I like the critique but I think the fish rots from the head down: reviewing at the “top” is thoroughly corrupt and banal and idiotic and tired and next to useless. Well, just my modest two cents (devalued by inflation daily)…
there’s actually already a whole site out there called The Review Review, but it’s purpose is mainly to review lit journals rather than, specifically, book reviews:
http://thereviewreview.net/
A nice idea maybe but in this case too geared towards the reviewers flattering the journals so that they can get in some day.
Also, for Justin: I like the critique but I think the fish rots from the head down: reviewing at the “top” is thoroughly corrupt and banal and idiotic and tired and next to useless. Well, just my modest two cents (devalued by inflation daily)…
*Like*
*Like*
I think one of the reasons why so many online reviews aren’t satisfactory is that there is an implicit pressure from the editor to only write sympathetic pieces; sometimes that pressure is even made explicit in the editor’s statement. I’ve written a few reviews, most of which I’m not happy with in hindsight, and I think much of my unhappiness has to do with the fact that I wasn’t honest enough. That is, even if I didn’t like the book under review, I felt compelled to spend at least as much space extolling its (sometimes hard to discern) virtues as I did pointing out its flaws.
There’s a sense among readers and writers of poetry and literary fiction, and particularly small press lit fiction, that we’re an embattled minority in the context of mass culture. As a result, we’re reluctant to tear one another down. That’s understandable, but there should be a distinction between criticism and promotion, if the former is to have any value.
I think one of the reasons why so many online reviews aren’t satisfactory is that there is an implicit pressure from the editor to only write sympathetic pieces; sometimes that pressure is even made explicit in the editor’s statement. I’ve written a few reviews, most of which I’m not happy with in hindsight, and I think much of my unhappiness has to do with the fact that I wasn’t honest enough. That is, even if I didn’t like the book under review, I felt compelled to spend at least as much space extolling its (sometimes hard to discern) virtues as I did pointing out its flaws.
There’s a sense among readers and writers of poetry and literary fiction, and particularly small press lit fiction, that we’re an embattled minority in the context of mass culture. As a result, we’re reluctant to tear one another down. That’s understandable, but there should be a distinction between criticism and promotion, if the former is to have any value.