"Joy and pleasure are as real as pain and sorrow and one must learn what they have to teach. . . ." -- Sean Russell, from Gatherer of Clouds

"If you're not having fun, you're not doing it right." -- Helyn D. Goldenberg

"I love you and I'm not afraid." -- Evanescence, "My Last Breath"

“If I hear ‘not allowed’ much oftener,” said Sam, “I’m going to get angry.” -- J.R.R. Tolkien, from Lord of the Rings

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

On Reviewing

I've been having an e-mail exchange with author Elizabeth Hand (who will be featured in a special edition of Green Man Review on February 21), who sent me a gracious and thoughtful e-mail noting her appreciation of my reviews of several of her books, although my reaction has been mixed.

It got me thinking, once again, about my approach as a reviewer. I resist the classification of "critic," because to me that implies a critical stance or theory, which involves a set of preconceptions about what a work should be. (There's also the fact that most schools of criticism I've encountered are self-limiting -- they're ill-equipped to deal with a work of art as a whole. And a lot of them are largely political in outlook, which on the level of textual analysis I think is usually inappropriate.) I'm much more amenable to Samuel R. Delany's idea of "text-based" analysis, taking the "text" as sort of a Gestalt -- all of the classic elements are there, for example plot, character, milieu, and so forth -- but what becomes the operative factor is their interaction, they ways in which they reinforce each other.

I read a lot of genre fiction, which tends toward formula. As a rule, people think of "formula" in a negative light, but what becomes important to me is not whether a work is formulaic, but what the author (we'll stick to books for the time being) has done with the formula -- has he or she stretched the boundaries, and does that justify itself, or if he/she has worked within the formula, has it reached a peak? There's been, for example, a lot of buzz over the past few years about slipstream and interfictions, efforts in speculative fiction to push the genre boundaries outward until they become so tenuous as to disappear. (And yes, genre fiction is all about formula.) There are very few writers I've encountered who actually do it -- Jonathan Lethem, Jon Courtenay Grimwood, Alexander Irvine, Connie Willis come to mind, all of whom tend to ignore genre tropes that get in the way of their stories.

And, since all those elements are interacting, I'm more interested in the final result than any particular aspect of the book, although I will give pride of place to character -- I see that as the necessary driving force for any story. So if milieu is merely sketched in, as long as there are clues to point me in a direction, I don't mind that (in fact, I enjoy it) as long as the characters are fully drawn. If the plot seems rather random, well, the universe throws you curves, and as long as events and characters mesh believably, I can deal with that.

In graphic literature, it becomes more complex: I insist that the drawings and layouts make a contribution to the narrative, that they actually function as part of the text. One of the reasons I'm not so enthusiastic about American comics pre-1985 or so is that they are merely illustrated stories, and the illustrations are, too often, terribly literal -- they don't carry any of the narrative.

There's necessarily a strong element of subjectivity in reviewing -- after all, it's my reaction to the work that I'm writing down -- but I try to hang that reaction on some sort of objective framework, based on my analysis of the text as described above. The ultimate question is, "Does it work?" I'm very well aware that what may not work for me may work very well for others (at this point in my career, I am an experienced, sophisticated and fairly demanding audience). So my main objective is to give as accurate an idea as I can of the experience of the work. Ultimately, I doubt anyone cares about my opinion on "good" or "bad," which are terms I try to avoid anyway. But if I can explain how I arrived at that opinion, that makes it worth something. (I noted to Liz Hand my too many experiences with reviews that told me nothing about the work and more than I wanted to know about the reviewer. Aside from the fact that I'm a fairly private person, it's not about me. My ego's healthy enough that it doesn't have to be.)

I may expand this as I think more about it, or maybe do further installments. And just for fun, why do you read reviews?

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