Roles and Functions of Criticism: Preamble to a Discussion // Annick MacAskill


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De gustibus non est disputandum.

(You can’t dispute taste.)1

-Latin proverb (author unknown)

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In this guest edited month, Annick MacAskill leads the reader into an exploration of “Roles and Functions of Criticism: Comments on our Review Culture."

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While everyone has an opinion, good luck finding someone who can tell you how to form one.

Five years into reviewing, with about 25 pieces of criticism on contemporary writing published or forthcoming in Canadian andAmerican outlets, I struggle to summarize my own philosophy on criticism, or my own thinking on cultivating a personal literary taste. Not only are my thoughts on many books conflicted (something I try to express in my reviews), but my thoughts on the practice of reviewing are as well.

Much like Phoebe Wang, my first reviews were largely motivated by a desire to rectify a wrong, namely the lack of reviews written on women’s writing, especially by other women. I hoped to contribute, in a small but tangible way, to the Canadian literary scene, to give deserving authors, books, and presses the attention they deserved.

Though I didn’t know it at the time, this gesture of service was informed by a perspective like that expressed by poet-philosopher Jan Zwicky in her essay “The Ethics of the Negative Review,” originally published in The Malahat Review and later reprinted on CWILA’s website. Like Zwicky, I simply couldn’t see the point of writing negative reviews, given what I understood of the general dearth of reviews written on Canadian poetry.

In theory, I agree that critical reviews are important. In practice, I agree with Zwicky (and her supporters), and would rather focus on writing about the authors I admire, particularly when I feel that their work has been neglected. Many of my reviews have been of titlesI’ve pitched to reviews editors, in the hopes that I might be allowed to discuss a good book that’s been otherwise overlooked, an approach I see as preferable to leading readers to “dead ends”(SueSinclair’s term). But also in practice, I’ve enjoyed taking on reviews of books I don’t know, letting reviews editors assign me titles by authors I haven’t read before. Sometimes I’ve discovered great books, and sometimes I’ve had the chance to say something critical about a piece of writing. When the decision of which book I review has been taken out of my hands, I’ve felt comfortable writing more negative reviews.

Within the space of the review itself, my method remains approximately the same—describe the book so that the reader has a sense of it, situate the book in its historical-cultural context, address its strengths and weakness, and quote as much as an editor will let me get away with (very little, typically, given that reviews tend to be short). I also try to offer at least one close reading of a poem or passage. When I feel stuck, I return to a piece by Carleigh Baker, a how-to guide that’s helped ground me many times when I’ve felt lost.

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Besides the how, there’s the why of reviews.

Getting back to the question of motivations, I recognize that I review for myself, for readers, and yes, for other writers. I’ve long considered this work a form of literary service, partly because of my initial motivations to give more space to women’s writing, and partly because of how unprofitable the gig is.

Most of the authors I know don’t regularly review books. I don’t blame them—reviews are time consuming, difficult, and tend to pay little(if anything). The most I’ve ever been paid for a review is $150, and I’ve published at least half a dozen for free. In some instances, I get a book in its final, printed version. Sometimes I get a physical ARC, sometimes a digital ARC, sometimes a simple PDF, and once, about 400 loose-leaf printed 8 ½ x 11 pages of double-spaced prose. Occasionally I’ve had to argue with a reviews editor or editorial board to maintain the style or content of my review. Even in the best-case scenario, there’s usually at least half a dozen emails exchanged with the reviews editor (and sometimes other editorial staff, like proofreaders), and often a long wait until the review comes out. Ultimately, reviewing is more or less volunteer work with a financial bonus that falls short of any minimum age in this country (I estimate approximately $0-$7.50 an hour),hence the idea of service, of generosity.

Perhaps the poorly paid nature of the work and this notion of service is the reason I admit to being discouraged when I hear writers lament the dearth of reviews, or the inefficacy of reviews to sell their books. If reviewing isn’t making me much (or any) money, if it’s something I struggle to schedule into my already over-committed life,I’d like to think that reviews can at least garner some attention and sales for other writers.

Overtime, and as I’ve heard more and more reasons to abandon the above motivations, or at least question them, I’ve learned to turn to other reviewers for a different kind of encouragement. I’ve become fascinated with the styles and approaches of other critics, the questions they raise and the debates they initiate among ourselves. I notice reviewers weaving in personal anecdotes, situating themselves firmly and clearly within their criticism. I delight in attentive, close readings and careful, precise comparisons of one author to another. I sit with questions about the utility of criticism and its functions. Is reviewing truly a gift, a donation of time and expertise to the community? Or is it more like a collegial handshake, a gesture that indicates one writer has taken the time to seriously consider another’s work? Sometimes reviews resemble the cranky, self-centered audience members who ask long-winded “questions”(that are really comments) at the end of public readings or lectures.In all these cases, reviews remain one thing—their own form of creative, literary writing.

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It was a discussion among other reviewers and writers on Twitter that prompted me to pitch this series. When I expressed my own confusion over the roles and functions of reviewing in a series of rapidly composed tweets, fellow author-critics replied sharing their perspectives and experiences. After pitching this topic to The Town Crier, I reached out to some of the writers who had engaged with me on Twitter, as well as other reviewers I respect, to ask for their contributions. Thankfully, a number said yes. The essays and topics I’ve seen so far have delighted and surprised me; the reviewers whose work I’ll be sharing point to varying motivations for writing criticism—generosity and service, certainly, but also literary sociability and pleasure, among others. I am sincerely grateful for the chance to read and share these pieces, all at once both pleasure and service.

Annick MacAskill is a poet and critic whose writing has appeared in literary journals and anthologies across Canada and abroad. Her debut collection, No Meeting Without Body (Gaspereau Press, 2018), was nominated for the Gerald Lampert Memorial Award and shortlisted for the J.M. Abraham Award. Her second collection, Murmurations, will be published by Gaspereau Press this spring. She lives inHalifax.

1 My translation.

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