Monthly Archives: August 2006

Service Interruption

Posting will be intermittent here and on Locus Online for a couple days (even more intermittent than usual); the phone line at home is dead, and it will take AT&T a couple days to come investigate. Meanwhile I’m answering urgent e-mail and posting bits to the website from Starbucks, before work. (I can’t not only update the website or answer personal e-mail from work, I can’t even view the website from work. My old-school employer has people sitting in a room poring over web access logs and blocking anything they check out and perceive to be non-business related…)

Update Friday morning: service restored. There was a ‘break in the connection box’ or somesuch.

The Presumption of Certain Possible Joys

This post is first to recommend the blog Critical Mass, “the blog of the national book critics circle board of directors”, i.e. those behind the annual National Book Critics Circle awards, one of those literary awards on par with the National Book Awards and the Pulitzer Prizes for fiction. It’s interesting to read a blog from literary enthusiasts outside any particular genre, in this case from a professional/critical perspective (contrasting the reader/fan perspective of Bookslut), and yet who do notice genre publications once in a while.

A while back Critical Mass quoted Reviewing 101: John Updike’s rules, taken from the introduction to his 1975 nonfiction collection Picked Up Pieces, which I can’t help but re-quote, omitting an aside or two:

1. Try to understand what the author wished to do, and do not blame him for not achieving what he did not attempt.

2. Give him enough direct quotation–at least one extended passage — of the book’s prose so the review’s reader can form his own impression, can get his own taste.

3. Confirm your description of the book with quotation from the book, if only phrase-long, rather than proceeding by fuzzy precis.

4. Go easy on plot summary, and do not give away the ending.

5. If the book is judged deficient, cite a successful example along the same lines, from the author’s ouevre or elsewhere. Try to understand the failure. Sure it’s his and not yours?

To these concrete five might be added a vaguer sixth, having to do with maintaining a chemical purity in the reaction between product and appraiser. Do not accept for review a book you are predisposed to dislike, or committed by friendship to like. Do not imagine yourself a caretaker of any tradition, an enforcer of any party standards, a warrior in an idealogical battle, a corrections officer of any kind. Never, never (John Aldridge, Norman Podhoretz) try to put the author “in his place,” making him a pawn in a contest with other reviewers. Review the book, not the reputation. Submit to whatever spell, weak or strong, is being cast. Better to praise and share than blame and ban. The communion between reviewer and his public is based upon the presumption of certain possible joys in reading, and all our discriminations should curve toward that end.

Amateur reviews, legion on the web, tend to indulge in plot summary and simple thumbs up/down pronouncements without justification, or when they attempt justification, tend to reveal more about the reviewer than about the work being reviewed (Updike rule #5′s question).

Way back when, the reviewing rules I learned (possibly from Algis Budrys, I’m not sure) and tried to adhere to, were: 1) what was the author trying to do?; 2) how well did the author do it? 3) was it worth doing?

All separate questions. In SF, the second of these questions is especially difficult because fairly evaluating the idea content of a story or book requires a knowledge of the many many other stories and books on similar themes; SF is more like science in that way, with each new work potentially built on all past works. The third of these questions — related to Updike’s first — can allow a reader to dismiss an entire genre, if his conception of what fiction is supposed to be about eliminates entire categories of what fiction writers actually write and what readers actually care about and respond to. And Updike’s vaguer sixth is problematic in the SF field, where so many critics/reviewers are personally acquainted with, through our social networks of conventions, the writers they may be reviewing.

But the bottom line is what this entry’s title suggests; a review shouldn’t be about sniping or fawning; it should be to allow the reader to judge, given the context of who the reviewer is, if reading this book or story is worth the reader’s time. And to show the reader why the work is significant, if it is, providing background and context the reader may not have been aware of.

That’s why I glance at reviews of books I haven’t read, and read thoroughly reviews of books I have read.

Constituencies

I submitted my Hugo Awards ballot last night, at almost the last possible moment, taking time yesterday evening to read the last 4 short fiction nominees that I hadn’t read before voting. (Good thing, since one of those I ranked in 1st place in its category.) I did better this year than I’ve done in several years, having read before voting all the short fiction nominees, and all but one of the novel nominees (excepting GRRM’s, whose previous novels in the series I haven’t yet read, though I will someday). As usual I couldn’t help but wonder how certain nominees made the ballot at all. Perhaps every voter thinks this, but I can’t help but suppose that there must be constituencies within the SF field, readers who prefer only certain types of SF or fantasy, who read books published by B*** or stories published in A*****, or at the opposite extreme only books published by non-genre publishers or stories published in slipstream magazines, and who don’t read much of anything else in the field. Am I evil or cynical to think so? Practically, for two or three decades now, it has been impossible to keep up on *everything*, on all the new novels or short stories published each year, and so such schisms are bound to appear. (Unlike the film world, where movie critics can easily see every new film that comes out in a week, if they care to; the equivalent is impossible in any literary field, just because it takes so much longer to read a book than to see a movie.)

It’s the rarity of widely-read reviewers or readers that makes it especially sad to see Cheryl Morgan apparently retiring her webzine Emerald City and her reviews therein today. Our community could benefit from more broadly-read, non-constituency readers, and it’s sad to lose one of the most ambitious.

That said, my previous post commenting on one of her reviews has generated an interesting comment thread, in case you haven’t looked at it.

I have more to post soon about reviewing rules and reading metrics, when I have time.