"Insulting" may be too strong a word, but I do suppose I would feel at least somewhat offended if people accused me of saying negative things in a review not because I believed them to be true, but only because I felt an obligation to find fault.

But there is an obligation to find fault, in a way, which is why throughout history there has been, quite naturally, a sort of pitched battle between critics and artists. The workshop environment is no different. One picks nits for the sake of picking sometimes because without that picking the prime reason for the existence of the 'forum' might be called into question. And I am not saying that either side doesn't have a perfectly cogent argument; only that viewing it from one particular side is not an "insult" to the other, and that the concept of a reverse world, a mirror image, is a very interesting and not necessarily confrontational perspective. It is naive to whitewash the role of sage reviewer while too quickly characterizing the world of the poet as often "bloody", "little", and "foolish". Surely those modifiers could be applied all round.

Nemo

I don't think there is an obligation to find fault if there is no fault to find, and the suggestion that a critic may bend over backwards to find fault when there is none is indeed somewhat insulting to the critic. The best critics will resist the impulse to overpraise or overcriticize based on what they feel is expected from a review. I haven't read this particular review, but what would bother me about the negative criticism would not be the likelihood that I disagree with it, but if I were to find the reviewer to be gleefully snarky about her opinions (and Rick seems to indicate that she was not). I can't stand it when a critic takes pleasure in finding a work does not measure up, and uses it as an occasion to show off the wit with which he can scornfully dismiss it.

Not to pick nits or nitpick, but I'm betting there is -- at least at the onset of many reviews -- no more reason to find fault than to find right. Fault often gets better press, though, so what comes out can occasionally be racked with treason.

My advice (which lacks insight) would be to make the best of it.

Roger,

I couldn't agree more. These are absolutely the worst kind of reviews, and I turn away from them in horror and embarrassment. They reflect most poorly on the critic, and often have nothing to do with the poet... but of course, it's the poet who suffers in these cases.

But I find the second worst kind nearly as bad: the formula review- hook, description, three good things, two bad things, final clever comment. I'm baffled why so many use this formula, when a simple description would suffice. Thinking about it, it's been a long time since I read a "just the facts, Ma'am" review... ;)

Thanks,

Bill

The concept of there being "no fault to find" is of course somewhat impossible, since "fault" is entirely subjective in this context. So acknowledging that there is always fault to be found is the same as saying there is an obligation to find fault on the part of the critic, for that is the nature of the role. I don't think the critic is being "accused" of anything in the original remarks that occasioned this discussion. I think it was a more a matter of roles being examined. My follow-up was just pointing out that critics themselves can be as thin-skinned as artists. If a poet must accept the fact that they must respond with equanimity to the fact that fault can be found, then why shouldn't the critic have to accept the the same fact with equal calm. What's more, I hardly think that Siham was attempting to denigrate the reviewer or the review (not even Rick has done that), but rather to soothe the poet who has received the at least partially negative critique--a situation which, all rationality aside, can always use the soothing touch. Yet a good deed toward one, is so often interpreted as an "insult" to another. Such is life.

Nemo

That's true, Nemo.

I suppose the problem with any review is that no single reader is representative of all other readers. That's why I like reviews that quote and describe more than they praise or condemn. When the reviews do that, I sometimes seek out books that received "negative" reviews and lose interest in books that received "positive" reviews.

Just to finally weigh in here, Nemo was right in that I was trying to soothe the poet re the fact that reviewers are by definition almost supposed to consider the harder aspects of possible weak points in the work of art (poetry or otherwise) they review, and that merely being reviewed itself is a good thing.

You also are right, Rory, in that "reverse world" implies critics are in some sort of other dimension where the rules are bent in the other direction. But it was never meant to reply specifically to the reviewer, any reviewer but to the process of critique.

As this thread amply shows, the most respected reviewers are those who are "not afraid" to call out the artist on weaknesses or negative points. If they don't do it, who will? But I disagree that a poet may be obligated to gush lest other poets-turned-reviewers take it out on him/her in return. On the contrary, I think a tough reviewer actually makes others respect their work more and fear being on the receiving end of said toughness.

The most respected reviewers are probably on the tough side. It shouldn't be an insult to imply there is an expectation and even respect for toughness, since I never said or implied that any critic is dishonest in so doing. This is, like poetry, a subjective art, and all pretense at universal standards is merely a useful stance but not "pretense" in any morally objectionable way. Picasso said "art is a lie that helps us to see the truth." Are all accusations of "lies" then insults?

Even here in a workshop, when we act as reviewers we are expected not to gush and to enter instead the reverse world of the critic. It's a world I respect and without it art would have no backbone. It makes the occasional words of praise all the brighter, and gives greater value to art in general by positing standards.

Siham

Interesting thread/discussion, and Siham asks an excellent question, via Picasso, that kind of turns the discussion on its head (kind of Picassoesque). I'd rather not be painted as a relativist, but nonetheless, I've sensed or occasionally found out (not always even the hard way) that much of life is what you make of it.

There was a Taschen series of books issued on prominent modernist painters a few years back, (maybe 1980s or so, coffee table type paperback oversized folios) that were always rich in quotes, the Picasso book being one I remember. I also remember the Edward Hopper book, and the following quote, one of my favorites by anyone of any genre, which I imagine may have been in response to a critic/critique:

"Maybe I am not very human -- what I wanted to do was to paint sunlight on the side of a house."