Extracting
the Ego: The Review as Symbiotic to the Text
by Aaron Tucker
Organization of the body can be divided
into two methods: there is gross anatomy, a study dedicated strictly to
what the unaided eye can see, and there is histology, the body beneath
the lens of microscopes and detail. Effective doctors are under the
constant strain of switching modes of sight between the tiny incision of
the specific and the limbs of the overt.
This is the book critic’s task as
well, to alternate within the body of a text, to scrutinize the limbs of
plot and characters alongside the incisions of phrase and metaphor. If
the book is an organism then the reviewer’s role is to asses and
diagnose. Robert Maxwell in his introduction to Sweet Disorder and
the Carefully Careless takes this further, defining the critic’s
job as "helping to explain [a specific work], to give it meaning
and hence to aid the assimilation of that work into society, and into
culture". Yet there remains two general modes of thinking
surrounding the book critique: the review is the only way to spread the
word of the work, is the exhaling breath of public discussion necessary
before the inhale of reading; or the review is nothing, is the opinion
of a self-involved failed writer rushing through the last twenty pages
before deadline which is ultimately crafted into a too quick summary. George
Murray of the successful Bookninja
literary website went so far as to call reviews "the cage-liner of
the literary world."
But both the positive and negative
takes on the book critique exist mainly because the value of a
"good review" is misplaced onto the end opinion of the critic.
The "I" evaluating becomes larger than the actual work
discussed. The critic’s preferred genres or styles of writing guide
whether the book is appreciated and the review runs the very real risk
of turning into a publicized diary entry. The idea of whether a critic
liked or disliked a book is relatively unimportant; the book critique
does not exist to reaffirm aesthetics (that’s what blogs are for).
What is essential however, is a discussion of what the work is
attempting to do and how well it succeeds. This means subverting the
ego, turning away from the "I" on the reviewer’s behalf, and
a refocusing on critical engagement with the text on its own terms.
While this is easy to discuss in
theory, the practice of "good reviewing" is hard to implement.
The Globe and Mail, as the last bastion of national book
reviewing, is as wonderful as it is problematic. On the one hand they
hire a myriad of talented writers from literary communities
coast-to-coast, giving publicity to a great number of works. However,
because it is a national paper, it is often forced to choose books that
lean towards a more general readership to appeal to the largest portion
of their audience. By gearing the reviews towards the
"general" public the reviewers are in fact defining what the
general public wants. It is a tricky cycle as reviewers attempt to guess
what the general public likes while the general public supports the
books that get positive reviews.
This is especially depressing for the
smaller presses and poetry in particular, where every sliver of exposure
counts. When Judith Fitzgerald ran a markedly negative review of Nathalie
Stephen’s Touch to Affliction the poetic community reacted
strongly (Globe and Mail, 09/12/06). Fitzgerald openly dismissed the
work as "po-mo pop, snap-and-crack" poetry. The resistance to
the text came about more because the poetry of Stephens is concerned
heavily with language and less with a traditionally-Canadian narrative
arc, rooted in a completely different philosophy of writing than
Fitzgerald was willing to engage with. Despite valuing art that
struggles with "internetworking at the axis where interior meets
exterior," she ignored the fact that Stephen’s work is in fact
doing just that (quite deftly in fact). Fitzgerald, instead of
critiquing the text within the framework it was constructed in (asking
what the goals of the text were, how did it try to go about achieving
it, how did she succeed/fail etc), trashes the book through the lens of
traditional narrative Canadian poetry. But by reinforcing her own ideals
of poetry, the poetry she personally grew up with and values, the
"general reader" receives none of the challenging and
interesting writing that lies outside the old paradigms.
This practice ensures that younger
writers and small presses on the fringes trying original and risky
endeavors are further marginalized. Both broad summary and dismissal of
a work force the periphery groups of writers to support each other at
all costs, which often means reviewing each others’ books. Besides the
obvious issue of knowing the author (often as good friends), it becomes
impossible then to critique books honestly within that community because
every critic has the added agenda of supporting that marginalized
writing; the ego of the critic again comes in to drive the review
towards a method of appreciation and writing that may have nothing to do
with the specific work being discussed.
In both cases the critic’s ego
appears as a reaction. Often it is a defense mechanism against a text
that is outside the comfort zone or aesthetic of the reviewer. By
including the "I" the critic creates a solipsistic pocket of
self identity that allows them to pronounce on a text without
considering other viewpoints (including other potential readers of the
work).
There exists a trend where the book
critique frames the dialogue with personal narratives that deal more
with the critic’s life than the book. Recent reviews of Howard
Jacobson’s Kalooki Nights, a fiction about a Jewish cartoonist,
inevitably discuss being Jewish (or the critic’s understandings of
Judaism) and how those experiences shape the interaction with the book.
This type of review creates an atmosphere where the critic is at the
forefront and either identifies with or is distanced from the text. The
evaluation is then based heavily on biographical instances; the book
review becomes a mirror to explain the context for enjoying a book
instead of critically engaging with the work.
Dismantling the "I" creates a
space where writing a "good review" means shifting the
importance and focus back to the text and away from the pronouncing ego.
The questions that emerge then are: What is the book trying to
accomplish thematically, politically, aesthetically etc? How well is the
book doing what it intends to do? Where does this book fit within the
broader view of writing, not just in comparison to other authors’
books, but within other works by the author? This approach takes the
decision of whether a potential reader would like or dislike a book out
of the critic’s hands.
Getting away from this prescription of
a good or bad book allows the value of a "good review" to
appreciate the ability to label the skeleton of the work for the reader
and coherently identify the veins of metaphor. Most importantly a
"good review" then asks what the text is trying to accomplish
and how well it is succeeding. This is not to say that every text will
succeed but that in order to evaluate in the most fruitful way the
critic should be looking to understand the book for what it is
attempting to undertake and not impress the expectations of tradition or
other genres upon it.
If the review sheds the ego it takes up
a symbiotic relationship with the discussed text. Ron Silliman, for
instance, is excellent at discussing books on their own terms, adopting
the vocabulary and sentence structure of the work itself, creating the
criticism as an extension of the art. He shows that the most engaging
and useful reviews subvert the ego of the reviewer and attach to the
language, the pacing, the same poetic sensibilities of the text being
critiqued. More important than this, the symbiotic review acknowledges
the poetic scaffolding of the discussed text and views said text with
that perspective at the vanguard.
The target as a reviewer is to stay out
of the way, to briefly summarize, to analyze, to prod and poke, to
question relentlessly, to provide the same alternating vision a doctor
gives to the body. This is not to say this is a wholly objective
process. When the review stresses an objective view it degrades into
summary. A hunt for critique of Joshua Key’s ghostwritten book The
Deserter’s Tale, for example, will turn up a variety of summaries
housed in local papers, review websites, national magazines. There is
very little discussion concerning the work as the product of
collaboration or the filtered, misguided, censored voice the process of
ghostwriting can create. Instead, the majority of reviews jumped on the
topic of the Iraq war and shook loose nothing but a recounting of Key’s
plot points and absolutely no assessment of the text.
Ultimately some evaluation on whether
the work effectively executes as it meant to or not needs to be
expressed. But the subjective pronouncement of the critique is a kernel
within the larger discussion, nestled in consideration of the work’s
concerns, an opinion to either agree or disagree with.
Which brings us finally to the
potential readers who ingest these reviews. The agency of the critique
lies in them: it is the through close textual interaction that they
should be able to decide whether they would want to read the book. This
is where the review will wither or thrive, in the potential readers’
expectations and wanting for explanation and engagement with the book as
a functioning body.
*
Aaron publishes regular reviews for
inknoire, a literary blog and has also
contributed to The Windsor ReView, The Antigonish Review, The Woman's Post and
Misunderstandings magazine. He currently teaches and writes in Toronto.
Works Cited
-
Fitzgerald, Judith.
"Where Precept meets Concept." The Globe and Mail.
09/12/06.
-
Murray, George.
"Responding to Reviews". www.bookninja.com. 02/27/07.
-
Jacobson, Howard. Kalooki
Nights. Toronto ON: Penguin Canada, 2007.
-
Keys, Joshua
ghostwritten by Lawrence Hill. The Deserter’s Tale. Toronto
ON: House of Anansi, 2007.
-
Maxwell, Robert. Sweet
Disorder and the Carefully Careless. Princeton NJ: Princeton
Papers on Architecture,
1993.
-
Stephens, Nathalie. Touch
to Affliction. Toronto ON: Coach House Books, 2006.
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