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Reviewing Reviews

My wife recalls her mother, who was a fine musician and teacher, with this anecdote: Following a recital in which the student’s performance was embarrassingly poor, she said to the still-doting parent, "You must be very proud of your daughter.” Not a word she didn’t believe and nothing to offend or be cruel. These principles should apply to literary reviews too, although if the degree of consideration afforded a grownup poet were the same as that for the young student, we might find ourselves covering up the very points a review is intended to highlight.

The independent, or small, presses of this country contribute vitally to the culture by keeping up production of books for which the readership is thin and scattered, even when those books deserve more exposure. Given the difficulty of getting noticed at all, it is understandable that we, the writers, are eager to see our books mentioned, examined, and (here’s the rub) praised. We may not notice it happening, but a healthy and fair-minded approach to reviewing can slip away beneath a tide of good intentions when review pages reflect the desire to make up for what is lacking elsewhere and grant exposure to new works rather than subjecting them to a critical reading.

Once in a while, something happens to illuminate what can go wrong with the review process. One poet followed up the sending of the book with personal postcards encouraging a review. I’ll confess that I wrote one but withheld it. The poet’s parents were not present for me to suggest how proud they must be. Another enthusiastically offered a second book before the review of a first had appeared. When it did, there was no further communication. And one poet, having been given a preliminary read of a review, asked that it not be published. As did the reviewer. Our enterprise is not designed to incite tempers.

Reflecting on what reviews ought to offer, I think back to Robert Peters' Black & Blue reviews and his insightful, often sharp, comments. He wrote something once about a poem of mine to the effect that it was overly romantic and bucolic. Not something to place in my file of useable quotations. A few years later, we came to know each other as friends and I learned more about him. He may have been a critic to be wary of, but if the author of a book he had hated wrote another he liked, he was eager to say so. His comments were always candid, his motivation always to serve the greater interests of literature.

The first realization I had when an editor sent me books to review for his magazine (the first time this happened) was that reviewing and reading for one’s own pleasure are different, and that we should see beyond our biases in order to look at what the author sets out to do and comment appropriately. There’s no use in complaining about L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poetry because it doesn’t rhyme. Beyond this, any publication has to decide on its goals with reviews. Many serve as centers for information on new publications, with the authors’ colleagues often serving as their reviewers. I think this is fine in that someone who knows more about the origins and circumstances of a work may be able to shed light on it for a potential reader even though a sterner evaluation isn’t attempted.

I’d like reviews to help us find new books and authors, not necessarily be merely texts to mine for inclusion in resumes. I’d like to feel that we who value reviews also value discussion and the ability to differ in a way that leaves us all knowing more about each other. I’d like to see a review that refuses to flatter the author challenged elsewhere by one that supports her/him and not have an offended author vent in a manner that can become uncomfortably personal to all concerned.

Anyone submitting a book for review should expect objectivity. Anyone reviewing a book should expect that of themselves, wherever it leads them. And anyone reading a review should expect commentary that begins with the text at hand and reflects on writing issues in general. So we learn. It has taken a while for me to accept it, but Robert Peters had a point about that poem of mine with the bucolic reference.



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