August 26th, 2009 / 2:45 am
Snippets
Sam Pink—
what are some criteria you use to evaluate a piece of writing? or is there a way to avoid doing this altogether that i can’t figure out? is it specific to each piece of writing or are there some things you feel apply across works?
when i evaulate a piece of writing, i think, this writer is trying to say this, and then i read more and it confirms or disconfirms that that’s what they are saying, and if it’s not, then i have an idea they are saying something else, and then i read more and they either are or are not. usually i get what the writer is saying though, eventually.
when i evaulate a piece of writing, i think, this writer is trying to say this, and then i read more and it confirms or disconfirms that that’s what they are saying, and if it’s not, then i have an idea they are saying something else, and then i read more and they either are or are not. usually i get what the writer is saying though, eventually.
German professor em. Hans-Dieter Gelfert (former professor of English literature at the University of Berlin) has written a book called “Was ist gute Literatur?” (What is good literature?), in which he presents a catalogue of 13 criteria to be applied when evaluating a piece of writing. According to him, a “good” piece of writing should be accomplished, coherent, expressive, “welthaltig” (very difficult to translate; something like “containing the world”), universal, interesting, original, intricate, ambiguous, authentic, resistant, it should cross borders and have that certain something (the “je-ne-sais-quoi”).
I’m not sure if applying such a fixed catalogue of criteria does justice to any piece of writing. But as you so rightly pointed out, none of use can escape our instinctive urge to evaluate what we are reading. Instead of working through a fixed set of criteria, though, I prefer the personal approach and ask myself if what I’m reading has some kind of impact on me: does it make me think or even react in some way? (Boy, did Lloyd Jones’s “Mister Pip” make me think!) Do I want to discuss the book with others, do I want to tell everybody what the book is about and what questions/problems it raises? (This happened e.g. with B.S. Johnson’s “Christie Malry’s Own Double-Entry”) Does it give me new insights (especially into the human condition) and experiences that I might not have got otherwise? (e.g. Phil LaMarche’s “American Youth)
Also, for me as a teacher of English it is important to see that the author has a very firm grasp of English. In particular, I enjoy a large vocabulary. (Shakespeare and Dickens are the obvious candidates here, but also the above-mentioned B.S. Johnson had an impressive range of words at his disposal. Who knows what “to exeleutherostomise” means?)
Last but not least, I have to agree with Professor Gelfert that “originality” is a main criterion. Above all, I like formal experiments à la T.S. Eliot’s “Waste Land”, Lawrence Durrell’s “Alexandria Quartet” or B.S. Johnson’s “The Unfortunates”.
Oof, does that make any sense, Sam?
German professor em. Hans-Dieter Gelfert (former professor of English literature at the University of Berlin) has written a book called “Was ist gute Literatur?” (What is good literature?), in which he presents a catalogue of 13 criteria to be applied when evaluating a piece of writing. According to him, a “good” piece of writing should be accomplished, coherent, expressive, “welthaltig” (very difficult to translate; something like “containing the world”), universal, interesting, original, intricate, ambiguous, authentic, resistant, it should cross borders and have that certain something (the “je-ne-sais-quoi”).
I’m not sure if applying such a fixed catalogue of criteria does justice to any piece of writing. But as you so rightly pointed out, none of use can escape our instinctive urge to evaluate what we are reading. Instead of working through a fixed set of criteria, though, I prefer the personal approach and ask myself if what I’m reading has some kind of impact on me: does it make me think or even react in some way? (Boy, did Lloyd Jones’s “Mister Pip” make me think!) Do I want to discuss the book with others, do I want to tell everybody what the book is about and what questions/problems it raises? (This happened e.g. with B.S. Johnson’s “Christie Malry’s Own Double-Entry”) Does it give me new insights (especially into the human condition) and experiences that I might not have got otherwise? (e.g. Phil LaMarche’s “American Youth)
Also, for me as a teacher of English it is important to see that the author has a very firm grasp of English. In particular, I enjoy a large vocabulary. (Shakespeare and Dickens are the obvious candidates here, but also the above-mentioned B.S. Johnson had an impressive range of words at his disposal. Who knows what “to exeleutherostomise” means?)
Last but not least, I have to agree with Professor Gelfert that “originality” is a main criterion. Above all, I like formal experiments à la T.S. Eliot’s “Waste Land”, Lawrence Durrell’s “Alexandria Quartet” or B.S. Johnson’s “The Unfortunates”.
Oof, does that make any sense, Sam?
It’s hard to say. I have a so many favourite books and they are all favourites for different reasons. I wouldn’t be able to do a Celebrity Death Match between a Marguerite Duras book and a Lawerence Braithwaite book because they are both so completely different. I guess I’m saying that it’s impossible to be binary about this kind of stuff and say “yeah that book is good because it does this this and this, and this other book doesn’t do that that and that so it must be bad”. With some books I find myself trying to work out what the writer was trying to do and whether or not they’ve achieved that and how, but sometimes I just enjoy being moved and shook around emotinally a little bit. Sometimes I guess it can pay to read a book twice, once for the emotional effect of the book and then the second time to evaluate and examine the machinery used in the text or whatever.
So in short: for me, I find that it’s impossible to be binary about this kind of stuff, and each book should be dealt with specifically and individually.
Although … Literary Death Match … hmmm …
It’s hard to say. I have a so many favourite books and they are all favourites for different reasons. I wouldn’t be able to do a Celebrity Death Match between a Marguerite Duras book and a Lawerence Braithwaite book because they are both so completely different. I guess I’m saying that it’s impossible to be binary about this kind of stuff and say “yeah that book is good because it does this this and this, and this other book doesn’t do that that and that so it must be bad”. With some books I find myself trying to work out what the writer was trying to do and whether or not they’ve achieved that and how, but sometimes I just enjoy being moved and shook around emotinally a little bit. Sometimes I guess it can pay to read a book twice, once for the emotional effect of the book and then the second time to evaluate and examine the machinery used in the text or whatever.
So in short: for me, I find that it’s impossible to be binary about this kind of stuff, and each book should be dealt with specifically and individually.
Although … Literary Death Match … hmmm …
I generally look first at the language. Is it inventive? Vigorous? Aware of itself? I like it when sentences flaunt their wares, others often don’t. Next I hunt for the heart, some aspect of emotional tug that means to me that the writer speaks human.
If a piece of writing contains at least one of those two things, I generally continue reading.
I generally look first at the language. Is it inventive? Vigorous? Aware of itself? I like it when sentences flaunt their wares, others often don’t. Next I hunt for the heart, some aspect of emotional tug that means to me that the writer speaks human.
If a piece of writing contains at least one of those two things, I generally continue reading.
Hasn’t everyone seen The Dead Poets Society?! For F’s sake people, it’s good if it makes you want to drink and sing in caves and stuff.
Hasn’t everyone seen The Dead Poets Society?! For F’s sake people, it’s good if it makes you want to drink and sing in caves and stuff.
I don’t know. My criteria for evaluating writing? 1) If the police show up to confiscate it. That’s something. 2) If the writing “males” me want to have sex a lot, then that’s pretty cool. 3) It’s style.
I don’t know. My criteria for evaluating writing? 1) If the police show up to confiscate it. That’s something. 2) If the writing “males” me want to have sex a lot, then that’s pretty cool. 3) It’s style.
I view reading as a kind of conversation. It is important for me to read and understand something and the author should make attempts (even ambiguous ones) to lead me in a particular direction. I tend not to like pieces with obscure/big words since, well, I don’t know a lot of obscure words and I feel like it puts a limit on the kind of conversation they’re trying to have with me.
different types of writing can require different reading approaches too (check out the suggestions from How to Read a Book). for example, articles tend to have a clear hierarchical structure yet in fiction this approach information is not linked in the same way.
I view reading as a kind of conversation. It is important for me to read and understand something and the author should make attempts (even ambiguous ones) to lead me in a particular direction. I tend not to like pieces with obscure/big words since, well, I don’t know a lot of obscure words and I feel like it puts a limit on the kind of conversation they’re trying to have with me.
different types of writing can require different reading approaches too (check out the suggestions from How to Read a Book). for example, articles tend to have a clear hierarchical structure yet in fiction this approach information is not linked in the same way.
I like these criteria best. Though I like it even better when the writing “females” me…
I like these criteria best. Though I like it even better when the writing “females” me…
Oops! I meant “makes”! Thanks, Matt Cozart. I should run my comments by you before I post them–you could find the typos for sure. But, it’s kind of funny as “males” too, isn’t it?
Oops! I meant “makes”! Thanks, Matt Cozart. I should run my comments by you before I post them–you could find the typos for sure. But, it’s kind of funny as “males” too, isn’t it?
for sure. i like “welthaltig.” i think that might be close to the only universal criteria of my own. that being the creation of a world i would only have access to through the writing.
for sure. i like “welthaltig.” i think that might be close to the only universal criteria of my own. that being the creation of a world i would only have access to through the writing.
interesting you mention death match. i have this idea for a category of article called “literary fistfight” in which i take two random books and then fid random sentences and pit them against each other, eventually determining which authro would win the fistfight.
interesting you mention death match. i have this idea for a category of article called “literary fistfight” in which i take two random books and then fid random sentences and pit them against each other, eventually determining which authro would win the fistfight.
Yes it is, I was just riffing. :)
Yes it is, I was just riffing. :)
I like the juicy, dripping lemon clock. Throwing Muses, WOW!
I like the juicy, dripping lemon clock. Throwing Muses, WOW!
Or a “literary fuckfest” in which you take two books and combine them, kind of, shuffling sentences and inserting words, to write a new book.
Or a “literary fuckfest” in which you take two books and combine them, kind of, shuffling sentences and inserting words, to write a new book.
I’m with Brad – the language has got to grab me, somehow. My barometer is usually happening across some phrase that makes my jaw drop and wonder where the hell the writer got those words from.
But astonishing language with no soul is merely for show, and won’t take my breath away.
I’m with Brad – the language has got to grab me, somehow. My barometer is usually happening across some phrase that makes my jaw drop and wonder where the hell the writer got those words from.
But astonishing language with no soul is merely for show, and won’t take my breath away.