From the Editors
Failing Critical Failure: The problem with engaging in real conversation about literary criticism
It was a great privilege to be invited on the panel for ‘Critical Failure: Books’ at the Wheeler Centre on Tuesday evening. The session – which was one of four discussions on the state of critical writing in Australia – originated, according to the Wheeler Centre, from an article published by Gideon Haigh in the inaugural issue of Kill Your Darlings, ‘Feeding the Hand that Bites: The Demise of Australian Literary Reviewing’ in March.
I won’t rehash Gideon’s argument (you can read the article in full here) – but needless to say, it has generated much debate on this site, and others, about the state of critical writing in this country. Many people have objected to Gideon’s ‘bilious attack’; others have asked him to name names. Others have called the Kill Your Darlings team mediocre critics – and I’m happy to entertain these views in the context of the discussion. The main initiative behind Kill Your Darlings is, after all, to publish new writing that provokes thought, challenges readers and generates lively and original debate.
And so I had been looking forward to a nuanced conversation with Peter Craven, Hilary McPhee and Gideon Haigh about the traditional modes of Australian literary criticism, the problems they encounter (shrinking editorial space, dwindling readerships, erosion of critical authorities, among others), how the digital world destabilises/complements this forum, and where Australian literary criticism is – if indeed it is – moving forward.
Unfortunately, I (and I suspect many of the audience) came away from ‘Critical Failure: Books’ frustrated and disappointed (in myself, it must be said). The panel had failed in its intentions: to generate a rigorous, considerate, balanced discussion about Australian book criticism in all its forms and the changing shape of critical thinking.
I think the problem of the panel was its make-up – and perhaps the fact that there were two strands of conversation at work. Peter Craven, a traditionalist and one of the country’s finest and long-standing critics, was reluctant to validate ideas about the changing forums for critical ideas (he joked about not even bothering to read Gideon’s article). But then, why would he? It is in his interest for these traditional forums to be perpetuated, and he is one of the few critics afforded the kind of editorial space for which we were all opining, where he can write, as he boasted, about books as broad-ranging as Hamlet and Harry Potter. Diminishing space may not, therefore, be a problem for him, but for us more humble critics it is – and that is hardly conducive to healthy critical culture.
Hilary McPhee comes from a different background: that of a publisher, McPhee Gribble, which was responsible for introducing us to the works of literary giants Helen Garner and Tim Winton, to name a few. Hilary spoke about her voracious appetite for criticism – but finds inspiration in our pages, in comparison to the likes of the Times Literary Supplement and the New York Review of Books, lacking.
Gideon Haigh is a journalist of twenty-six years experience; he has seen the shape of critical writing in the broadsheets change. He is, of his own admission, only a newbie reader of literary blogs, but still felt the debate at the Wheeler Centre should be focused around print reviewing.
And myself? I felt strangely conflicted in my position. On the one hand, I had been invited very much as a ‘new voice’ – and a reactionary one, presumably, due to my role as publisher and editor at Kill Your Darlings. But I also came into the debate as associate publisher at Affirm Press, a Melbourne-based independent publisher whose books – like that of many small independent presses – sometimes struggle to gain the critical attention they deserve in mainstream media outlets.
As rightfully highlighted by an audience member, the question of ‘what makes good criticism good’ wasn’t really properly answered. I am as guilty as the others on this score – apart from Gideon, who went some way to answering the question. But as I alluded in my introduction on Tuesday, the notion of contemporary criticism is problematic, because there is very much a schism between what we are defining as traditional literary criticism – which you see published in places like ALR, ABR, The Monthly and by notable print critics, like James Bradley and Kerryn Goldsworthy, who also operate their own blogs – and the ‘review pages’ in our national broadsheets, where content ranges anywhere from 100 words to 1000 words.
I think we’re all now at the point where we can cease bemoaning this situation – and it seems that there are needless blame games operating in some strands of this argument. The fact is that these pages are under increasing strain for a number of reasons (economic rationing, dwindling readership, publishing and publicity pressures, general changes to the way readers consume newspapers). This is not to say that they are not important, not serving a purpose and promoting new writing – they are. But their influence – in a critical sense – has changed. And the value we attribute to critical writing has changed with it.
And this is the rub. Traditional forms of literary criticism are failing in this country not because critical authority is lacking, but because this critical authority is increasingly high-minded and ostentatious; it is criticism that does not reflect the diversity and richness of our national literature. For this reason, it is failing our writers and readers.
When, for example, do you ever see a lengthy review – steeped in the style and technique of the work, the complexity of its narrative, the socio-historic content – of a first-time, unknown novelist? An emerging poet? When do anthologies (outside the annual ‘Best of…’) receive sustained evaluation? What of genre fiction? Graphic novels? Counter-cultural tracts? Gay and lesbian writing? Literature in translation?
As an associate publisher of a small, independent press, I cannot see the necessity in reading five or so reviews of the latest Peter Carey novel – each written in the same cautious vein, with the same summary of plot, with the same reference to past works, each as fearful as the next lest the reviewer draw notoriety for being ‘that girl’ who ‘trashed’ Peter Carey.
My argument, as I tried to make during the discussion on Tuesday, will always be for diversity on our review pages, for fresh approaches and bold content. It was in fact Gideon who made the point about the value of such criticism for new Australian writers, as it in turn shapes their own process of re-crafting, evaluating their finished work, building their oeuvre and helping them – and of course us – better understand their place and value in our collective literature.
And this is where I see the divide. Many readers are turning from the books pages because they aren’t reading about books they are interested in; they are simply not being engaged by a voice that speaks to them. And increasingly, these same readers are turning to the more interactive, democratic and discursive online realm.
Geordie Williamson’s recent article in the ALR, provocatively entitled ‘Bugger the Bloggers: Old-World Critics Still Count’, was a curious addition to the common misrepresentation of the blogging phenomenon by traditional critics. Williamson, who has written respectfully on the nature of blogging, and acknowledged its importance in literary conversation, had this to say in his article about ‘criticism’ in blog form:
However marvellous it may be, the web is no more than a medium: its content is not more virtuous, intelligent or correct for appearing in a novel space […] Also, in a world characterised by a hyper-abundance of media, where bandwidths are filled with a ceaseless flow of chatter and governments drown real information in large-scale data dumps, it is the sceptical, nimble-minded, old-fashioned literary critic, trained to thresh narrative grain from word chaff, who is best situated to gather something like truth from the digital realm.
It’s this exact type of literary fundamentalism that has engendered this problem in the first place, as if there was a distinct divide between ‘us’ – another species of reader and writer, less discerning and by implication lazier – and ‘them’. And who is this ‘old-fashioned critic’, anyway? Someone who doesn’t use the internet? Someone who doesn’t type his reviews for himself? Someone who deliberately obfuscates every kind of critical discourse?
There is no ‘pack’ mentality to blogging, as so described in Williamson’s article – some of the liveliest and most entertaining dissension is published on literary blogs. And surely he can’t be arguing that print reviewing is free from critical unanimity? Blogging is, by its very nature, a collective, communal space that is devoted to the transmission of ideas. Much of it is not criticism, but it mostly doesn’t suppose itself to be. It is simply an open and democratic forum where diverse people can come together and comment on literature, which is in its own way culture-building. After all, everyday communication – for better or worse – is growing daily online, and such writing is merely an extension of that.
I’m encouraged to see the number of literary blogs popping up. I certainly don’t read all of them – and my own tastes very much lead me to the sites of writers and critics like Mark Mordue, for example. But that is exactly what this debate relates to – taste and values, and how they are changing. Now, we can see the multifariousness of these tastes articulated: some readers look for more generalist conversations on texts; others like to read more critically and analytically about a book.
There are those who view the proliferation of voices on the web as somehow eroding clear and distinct critical authority. I think it’s important here to calibrate your argument. For me, in my capacity as a publisher and editor, and occasional reviewer, I see these changes as not restrictive or problematic, but merely a sign of progress and positive change. The creation of Kill Your Darlings was in response to a desire to see more intelligent and critical responses to all kinds of writing (more of the writing, frankly, that we wanted to read); to provide a platform for new voices that build and enrich our collective culture – many of which, I’m proud to note, have been discovered online. I look forward to continuing that tradition.
The Year It Was for Kill Your Darlings‘The fights most worth having are the ones you won’t win’: The continuing debate on Australian literary reviewing
14 Responses to Failing Critical Failure: The problem with engaging in real conversation about literary criticism
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1:07 pm, September 10, 2010
YESSSS!!!!! Thank you very much, Rebecca.
More when my migraine has subsided…!
10:52 pm, September 12, 2010
Hi Genevive, thanks for your comment. It was nice to finally meet you in person on Tuesday. Rebecca
6:24 pm, September 10, 2010
“Traditional forms of literary criticism are failing in this country not because critical authority is lacking, but because this critical authority is increasingly high-minded and ostentatious; it is criticism that does not reflect the diversity and richness of our national literature. For this reason, it is failing our writers and readers.”
Nicely put, although I do think that it’s as much an issue of the limitations of the medium (print vs. online) as it is an issue of timid or unadventurous critics. It’s also refreshing to see you admit that you came away from the event disappointed in general and in yourself; I admire your candour. Of the four panellists, I thought you were clearly the most thoughtful and the most engaged (rather than purely combative) in this particular debate, and I came away wishing that I had been able to hear more from you (and less from a certain somebody at the other end of the stage)…
I posted the below over at the Wheeler Centre site; I hope you don’t mind the doubling-up but I think it could be useful to linking to those places online that have continued the Critical Failure discussion on literary criticism:
Emmett Stinson: http://emmettstinson.blogspot.com/2010/09/literary-links-reviewing-reviewers.html
Nikita Vanderbyl: http://nikitavanderbyl.com/09/critical-skulduggery
Daniel Wood (me): http://danielwood.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/critical-failure-indeed
I don’t mean to use this blog comment as an opportunity for gratuitous promotion and self-promotion. Each of these three blog posts responds directly, intelligently, at length, and in detail to the issues raised on Tuesday night. Taken together, they extend the “Critical Failure” discussion in a sophisticated way (which is to say that even a summary of them would explode the limits of the blog comments box in which I am writing these words) and, hey, what’s the point of championing the web as an ideal medium for literary discussion if you can’t find those places on the web where the discussion is happening?
10:59 pm, September 12, 2010
Hi Daniel, thanks for your comment. I agree about the difference in the mediums, and that’s something that wasn’t really touched upon on Tuesday. The online forum opens up so many possibilities not only for the interactive nature of criticism, but for the multiplicity of voices. And perhaps that’s where some of the concern lies – online forums are noisier, by their very nature: they can facilitate more than one voice speaking with authority on any given subject.
Thank for those links – it’s great that people are really talking about the questions raised in the panel. That was the intention of publishing Gideon’s piece to begin with: we wanted to stimulate debate.
6:16 pm, September 11, 2010
Well written article to which I would add one further point. As a reader who does not have a financial interest in either forum I detect a hint of fear amongst those who are well recognised and given space in the printed form to ply their craft.
If the system with which they are associated continues its decline how will they earn a living doing what they do? Must they re-establish their pre-eminence afresh in the online medium? Even if not, how will they ‘monetise’ their content? Time is simply not on their side and due to their economic commitments (usually children and mortgage) they simply cannot survive on what an associate publisher and occassional critic can. That’s the problem with transitions. They always hurt those who have based themselves on the conditions which are being superseded.
Of course they raise a valid point for those invested in the new ‘system’ as well. Just how will content makers make a living doing what they do? We are seeing provisional answers unfolding before our eyes. Which will be successful and which will fail continues to remain a mystery.
All that this humble reader knows is that publications founded in the non-Internet era are having great difficulty in adapting and some of the answers being implemented by decision makers is accelerating the shift away from their publications. Witness not only the repetitive and timid reviews of the same set of books from the same authors but the woeful coverage of the recent election. Breathless obsessing over minutiae and personality and little to no discussion of policy. Why bother reading poor content when those who are lesser known produce perceptive and innovative analysis?
11:08 pm, September 12, 2010
Hi NB, good point about how to monetise content. I think for online publications, this question remains to be answered. (Rupert Murdoch wants to start charging for online access to newspapers, incidentally). But as a very small publisher, we don’t yet pay online writers (we pay our print contributors) – but we hope in the very near future to be paying for online contributions, too. As a new, self-funded project, we’re not yet in the position to pay for online content, but I would like to stress that this decision is governed by financial necessity, rather than being based on any perception of quality difference. But again, with the growth of the organisation, we hope to recognise, in a financial sense, the import of online content, and our website – and our online writers.
We also see the online Kill Your Darlings articles and reviews as opportunities for new writers to show us the breadth of their writerly talent, to gain experience, receive editorial feedback and sharpen their craft.
3:21 pm, September 13, 2010
Thank you for the reply. Please do not take my point regarding monetising of content as a covert plea for payment of online contributions. It seems that those who are thoughtful, incisive and consistent in their postings (whether as online bloggers or more prestigiously as op-ed columnists) eventually find their way to full-blown media organisations such as Crikey or niche-like publications backed by those with deep pockets such The Monthly or The Griffith Review.
If KYD generates enough revenue to offer payment, well, that would be a milestone in the land where (to borrow a phrase) ‘too much sport is never enough.’
The point was meant as a question for all media, not KYD specifically.
6:22 pm, September 13, 2010
Being part of a generation that has grown up with the easy availability of blogs, forums, and online chat, I have never really felt the need to engage with the practitioners of literary criticism present in newspapers and journals. Instead, I can point (almost literally; digital footsteps are easy to retrace) to a long history of meaningful and enlightening discussion with non-expert users from around the world that have enabled me to gain a greater understanding of any piece of work I’ve wanted to explore.
Why is it that these hundreds of interactions I have experienced aren’t considered, in the opinions of some, enough to approximate the interpretation of an informed expert? What special knowledge have these folks picked up in their education that can supersede the varied angles offered by the blogosphere? What exactly are the established forms of literary criticism offering us, anyway?
4:00 pm, September 14, 2010
Good point Phill. The reason these are still not seen as valid by many is mainly traditional. When you read a book, newspaper or journal you can know as a reader that what you are reading (assuming it is non-fiction) has been properly edited and checked for factual correctness usually by several people before it is published. On the internet absolutely anybody regardless of their credentials can post anything which opens it up to potential problems as there’s no backstop to prevent incorrect information from being disseminated. For the most part I think those engaged in blogging about literature and the arts generally, do it responsibly, however there’s not really any process in place for checking the validity of the information and you are very much relying on the person who writes it to have done their homework. If they have relied on incorrect information found on the internet and erroneously believe it to be correct then it adds to the problem of misinformation and there is a lot of that on the net. There have been a number of articles and books written on how the internet is dumbing us down and a lot of that is to do with an inability by many to determine what is genuine and relevant information and what is bullshit.
5:29 pm, September 14, 2010
@Leia: I guess it depends on what kind of critique you are after. Well executed traditional long form critical analysis of books is, admittedly, very difficult to find on the Internet, often tending towards a weird mash-up of personal memoir and opinionated interpretation. But there are places to enjoy it, even if those places are reproductions of print magazines or newspapers that have been translated online.
As for the ability to discern what is genuine and what is not, I see the reader themselves assuming the role of editor and fact-checker. If someone trips your bullshit detector–and thanks to a life of being inundated with advertising in all forms, my personal radar is currently sitting on a hair trigger–you move on. Or you try and correlate the information presented with other critiques, which can be as little as a click away.
Perhaps the price for the freedom of opinion on the Internet is the shift of the burden of verifying information to the user. If that’s the case, I’m happy to pay that in order to enjoy the wide variety of interesting and new ways of criticism that are being evolved online.
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1:30 pm, September 20, 2010
Rebecca Starford, I adore you and your glorious mind.
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