Good morning Hank, it's Tuesday.
I'm making this video at a time distant from any of my books or movie adaptation stuff coming out
so that it doesn't appear to be about me, which I really hope it isn't.
But of course, I'm inevitably warped by my own experience. More on how I might be wrong later, actually.
Okay. So I started out my writing career as a book reviewer.
Between 2000 and 2005, I reviewed hundreds of books for Booklist magazine.
I reviewed young adult novels, picture books, romance novels,
books about boxing, books about early Islamic history, and books about conjoined twins.
The number of books about conjoined twins, by the way, is truly astonishing.
Also, I've been lucky enough to review some great books for the New York Times Book Review
including Eleanor & Park, The Book Thief, and The Hunger Games.
This all happened back at the beginning of the age of everyone reviewing everything,
a wave that I have ridden profitably, if at times uncomfortably, my entire adult life.
In fact, my ongoing fascination with the format and the ubiquity of the review led me to my podcast:
The Anthropocene Reviewed.
I was like, "If people can review their haircuts and their breakfasts,
why not cholera or the strange human habit of whispering?"
So to be clear, I am strongly in favor of reviewing.
I think thoughtful analysis of art is vital to the creation of good art.
I think it can be super helpful to look at art through a lens.
Like looking at Game of Thrones through the lens of climate change, for instance
or looking at Jane Eyre through the lens of shifting gender norms.
But I tend to be less moved by criticism in the colloquial sense of the word, like articles or videos
explaining "Everything Wrong with X" or "14 Reasons Z is Terrible" or whatever.
Now of course, it's important to point out flaws in art. That can help encourage the creation of better art.
But I think the most important thing criticism can do is
find and lift up important and beautiful work that might otherwise go unnoticed.
I don't read to discover what's wrong with a story,
although there are many something's wrong with every story.
I read to be moved, in every sense of the word.
To go to places I haven't been and to glimpse worlds I otherwise couldn't see,
including the worlds deep within myself.
Critics, whether in the New York Times or on Goodreads, can help us to discover the books that will move us, and
also give us a framework through which to think about them.
So I think what we mean when we say a book is "good" is that it's worth our attention.
A good book is one that, if read generously, will offer big gifts in return.
And part of what frustrates me about the "Everything Wrong with X" school of criticism
is that it mostly makes the case for not paying attention to something,
which I think is a case usually best made by not paying attention to something.
Of course, there are exceptions. When really popular work is culturally destructive, for instance.
But I just don't think that in general,
communities organized around hating art that deserves less attention are as productive as
communities organized around loving art that deserves more attention.
So that's how I try to read in critique:
with an eye toward "What about this experience is valuable and worthy of attention?"
"What stories have expanded my universe or changed the way I think?"
Among recent reads,
Melinda Gates' 'The Moment of Lift' has changed the way I think about gender discrimination and its role in poverty.
The graphic novel adaptation of 'Kindred' has kept me thinking about the past's omnipresence.
Both those books felt like really good investments of my attention,
which is how I'm trying to think about reading these days.
I'm trying to think less about whether something is good or bad and
more about which works of art I should look at and how to look at them.
Of course, I might be wrong about how to read in review.
I do remember a time when the ideals that animated my life felt certain and important,
and I was absolutely sure that I was contributing to culture in a positive way.
But that moment has passed, and now I am uncertain about everything.
I'm even uncertain about being uncertain!
Should I have unshakable beliefs? Maybe.
But for now, I'm letting books, art, and life shake them.
Hank, I'll see you on Friday.
