Author James Bradley has written an excellent blog post on 'hatchet job' criticism, 'Literary Bloodsport'. 'As spectator sports go,' James writes, 'literary hatchet jobs are up there with cage-fighting.'I do understand what he means. I recently read 'Caretaker/Pallbearer', James Wolcott's deliciously sharp review of the late John Updike's Widows of Eastwick. I guiltily enjoyed what Mark Sarvas called 'Snark as Art'.
But to me, many savage reviews (and the letters-page flame wars that follow) are petty, dull and ugly. They seem like anaemic versions of genuine conflict; like simulations, rather than exemplars, of a cage fighter's courage and perseverance. And unlike a good fight, they can drag on.
I'd rather watch a real cage fight, like the example above: Judo fighter Karo Parisyan against Dave Strasser. It has more sincerity, beauty and bravery than your average nasty review, or public spat. At times, the martial arts are more mature than their literary equivalent.
(For more on the virtues of martial arts, I penned 'Channel the rage: teach boys to fight' for the Sydney Morning Herald.)
2 comments:
When I was a teenager, my mum's then boyfriend like to throw controversial comments my way as a kind of bait, just to stir me up. We used to have these full-on debates/arguments till I realised I was just being toyed with. I was fighting with conviction while my opponent was just playing a game, for laughs. Bloodless, indeed. And offensive. And pointless. Have some guts behind your argument, I say. Make sure it's worth the fight. Otherwise shut up and be nice.
As an aside, I wonder if scholars/artists who're more physical are more grown-up about criticism?
For example, Joan Miro and Japanese architect Tadao Ando both boxed. As did Hemingway (perhaps badly).
This might be a long bow...
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