You may have heard about the Hatchet Job of the Year Award, a newly instituted prize for “the writer of the angriest, funniest, most trenchant book review of the past twelve months”. The official manifesto – which I read with much interest – says the aim is to improve the standards of professional criticism and to encourage greater honesty in book reviewing.
That sounds like a good cause: I approve of anything that seeks to raise the profile of reviewing and to remind us that good criticism must aspire towards being good literature in its own right. But I was puzzled by some of the phrasing in the manifesto and in news reports about it. Consider this quote from an editor of the Omnivore website, which instituted the prize: “We are celebrating reviews that are well written, that have a point, that are insightful and also are entertaining. There are too many reviews that are a bit bland.”
Implicit here is the idea that negative reviews are the ones most likely to be “well-written” and “entertaining”, and that positive reviews are dull. There is a sliver of truth in this. Almost anyone who has reviewed professionally for some time knows that writing a snarky negative review is usually more fun – and more satisfying as a writer – than doing a favourable one. The tools of language tend to aid the angry critic more than the benevolent critic: the former has a broader and more exciting range of adjectives and analogies at his disposal; there are more opportunities to write inventive, showy prose. For similar reasons, almost anyone will find a well-written negative review more fun to read – and more impressive – than a well-written favourable review.
More problematic, though, is the widespread tendency to think of unfavourable reviews as automatically more sincere or authoritative. In his seminal essay “Towards a Theory of Film History”, written in the 1960s, Andrew Sarris noted the popular perception that the toughest reviewers were the best reviewers. “A reputation is made and measured by the percentage of movies the reviewer pans. The more movies panned, the more ‘honest’ the reviewer. Everyone knows how assiduously the movie companies seek to corrupt the press. Hence, what better proof of critical integrity than a bad notice?” Things haven’t changed much since then. A phrase commonly used in the reports I’ve read about the Hatchet Job award is “...to promote integrity”.
I admit a slight bias when it comes to this subject. My own attitude towards reviewing doesn’t involve a perception of myself as a cultural watchdog or an arbiter of taste, sternly telling people what they should or should not read. (A good reviewer with a breadth of reading experience will inevitably help some readers set standards for themselves over a period of time, but that’s another matter.) My main “responsibility”, as I see it, is to be honest about my feelings and to express them as clearly as possible. And the books that I find it most rewarding to write about are the ones that stimulated me in a largely positive way. (When I don’t care for a book, it feels like an unconscionable waste of time to do a review of it – I’ve already squandered too many precious hours reading it. In any case, if I haven’t already committed to doing a review, I might not bother to finish a book that doesn't hold my interest.)
Just to be clear, I’m not implying that there is anything inherently worthier about a positive review. Good reviews are the ones that are honest, informed and well-written, irrespective of whether they are complimentary or scathing. But I do often get the impression that favourable reviews are underappreciated (by people other than the reviewed author and his publishers, that is!). All power to the Hatchet Award – may their shortlists provide us with much entertainment in the years ahead, and also encourage professional reviewers to look deep into their hearts before getting down to their work. But equally, I hope that the publicity attached to the prize doesn’t tempt some writers to suppress the good things they see in a book, in an overzealous effort to write a hatchet review.
[Did a version of this for my Sunday Guardian column]
That sounds like a good cause: I approve of anything that seeks to raise the profile of reviewing and to remind us that good criticism must aspire towards being good literature in its own right. But I was puzzled by some of the phrasing in the manifesto and in news reports about it. Consider this quote from an editor of the Omnivore website, which instituted the prize: “We are celebrating reviews that are well written, that have a point, that are insightful and also are entertaining. There are too many reviews that are a bit bland.”
Implicit here is the idea that negative reviews are the ones most likely to be “well-written” and “entertaining”, and that positive reviews are dull. There is a sliver of truth in this. Almost anyone who has reviewed professionally for some time knows that writing a snarky negative review is usually more fun – and more satisfying as a writer – than doing a favourable one. The tools of language tend to aid the angry critic more than the benevolent critic: the former has a broader and more exciting range of adjectives and analogies at his disposal; there are more opportunities to write inventive, showy prose. For similar reasons, almost anyone will find a well-written negative review more fun to read – and more impressive – than a well-written favourable review.
More problematic, though, is the widespread tendency to think of unfavourable reviews as automatically more sincere or authoritative. In his seminal essay “Towards a Theory of Film History”, written in the 1960s, Andrew Sarris noted the popular perception that the toughest reviewers were the best reviewers. “A reputation is made and measured by the percentage of movies the reviewer pans. The more movies panned, the more ‘honest’ the reviewer. Everyone knows how assiduously the movie companies seek to corrupt the press. Hence, what better proof of critical integrity than a bad notice?” Things haven’t changed much since then. A phrase commonly used in the reports I’ve read about the Hatchet Job award is “...to promote integrity”.
I admit a slight bias when it comes to this subject. My own attitude towards reviewing doesn’t involve a perception of myself as a cultural watchdog or an arbiter of taste, sternly telling people what they should or should not read. (A good reviewer with a breadth of reading experience will inevitably help some readers set standards for themselves over a period of time, but that’s another matter.) My main “responsibility”, as I see it, is to be honest about my feelings and to express them as clearly as possible. And the books that I find it most rewarding to write about are the ones that stimulated me in a largely positive way. (When I don’t care for a book, it feels like an unconscionable waste of time to do a review of it – I’ve already squandered too many precious hours reading it. In any case, if I haven’t already committed to doing a review, I might not bother to finish a book that doesn't hold my interest.)
Just to be clear, I’m not implying that there is anything inherently worthier about a positive review. Good reviews are the ones that are honest, informed and well-written, irrespective of whether they are complimentary or scathing. But I do often get the impression that favourable reviews are underappreciated (by people other than the reviewed author and his publishers, that is!). All power to the Hatchet Award – may their shortlists provide us with much entertainment in the years ahead, and also encourage professional reviewers to look deep into their hearts before getting down to their work. But equally, I hope that the publicity attached to the prize doesn’t tempt some writers to suppress the good things they see in a book, in an overzealous effort to write a hatchet review.
[Did a version of this for my Sunday Guardian column]
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