Recently a writer friend’s latest novel received a middling to poor review in a professional publication. Now, that’s not the end of the world. Obviously, art is subjective and no piece of writing is ever polished to perfection. At some point, every writer has to admit, “This is the best I can do with this right now.” Some reviewers will notice or be troubled by more perceived imperfections than others.
That’s just how it goes.
However, when we read a review we come to it with the expectation that the reviewer is writing from a position of authority. Everyone has opinions. Not everyone has educated, informed opinions. Even if you don’t know that my undergraduate degree is in communication and media studies with an emphasis in film, when you read my reviews it should come through that I know more about story structure, filmmaking, and constructing a novel than most.
A good reviewer knows things.
Consider Roger Ebert’s review of The Dark Knight, the 2008 Christopher Nolan Batman movie. As he sets the stage for his essay, Ebert compares The Joker to Mephistopheles, the demonic villain of Goethe’s 19th century play. He also wonders if Heath Ledger will be the first actor to win a posthumous Oscar since Peter Finch. He notes that the character is inspired by the 1928 film The Man Who Laughs, before commenting on the Batman movie’s setting and production.
How many people with opinions do you know with that depth of knowledge?
Because Ebert was able to see all these fine points, he was equipped to speak on the whole. Art doesn’t happen in a vacuum, and one thing inspires another. Those inspirational elements, it cannot be stressed enough, come packed with meaning. They’re inspirational because they say something that has resonated with audiences for generations, and if they were removed from the culture art would suffer. It is suffering, for that very reason.
So back to my friend’s bad review.
I’ve read the novel for myself. The artistic inspirations are evident to me. So when the reviewer says the book “tends to take on a cloying tone” and is “filled with “melancholic, semi-philosophical observations,” I can tell that she doesn’t have the experiences to see what I see. She doesn’t speak the language of story yet, probably because she was never taught it, or has stopped up her ears. The author was clearly inspired by the work of Frank Capra, who frequently employed what some may call a “cloying tone,” for effect.
And it worked. We still watch It’s A Wonderful Life every year (the linked 4k restoration is breathtaking, btw).
Did people really talk like that in the 40’s? I wasn’t there, but I doubt it. Yet stories exist to say the things that need to be said, in ways we could never say them off of a page. And before anyone objects, saying that such sentimentality isn’t used anymore, there’s a touching scene in 2017’s Darkest Hour that is pure Capra. When I saw that in the movie theater, just as when I read similar “melancholic, semi-philosophical observations” in the novel, I understood that something significant, poetic, and essential was taking place.
Unfortunately, most of today’s creators and reviewers are unaware of anything that didn’t happen five minutes ago.
So before you accept a review, good or bad, at face value, look for clues of the author’s authority. Does the piece reference older works or show any knowledge of the artistic process? Or can the reviewer only compare it to contemporary pop culture? The sad truth is, most critics are failed creatives, who love tearing down the work of those who dare to try. A good reviewer has a deep love for the craft and respect for those who create it, knowing all the ins and outs, even if he or she is unable to make their own art.
