The critic is dead, long live the critic
If the Observer was hoping to reignite the debate on the future of cultural criticism they couldn’t have found a soggier squib than American academic Neil Gabler’s unenlightening essay.
To save you the trouble of reading it, Gabler was arguing that “the public” no longer listen to “the critics”. His evidence: while all the US critics had put Boardwalk Empire, Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom and The Social Network at the top of their “best of 2010” lists, these three things had done only moderately well in terms of viewing figures/sales/box office takings.
This gap between what the critics said and what the public did was all the more astonishing, thought Gabler, because last year had seen “a confluence of critical opinion in America the likes of which the nation hadn’t seen in years.” It was no coincidence, he felt, that this book, film and TV series had been recommended by nearly every single newspaper: rather, they had colluded in a “critical last stand, a desperate ploy … to display their power by circling the wagons.” That they failed to do so confirmed “a breach” that now existed between critics and the public. “Once upon a time,” he added sinisterly, “critics could close that breach through a process close to cultural brainwashing … Now they can’t.”
Gabler followed this puzzling opening with an investigation into the roots of the divide between “cultural commissars” and “ordinary folk”, which he managed to trace right back to before the American Revolution. The internet, apparently, is only the latest and most effective outlet for a deep-seated contempt for cultural elitism.
Now, before I look in more detail at Gabler’s doomladen prognosis, it’s worth pointing out that critics have traditionally been more revered in America than England (where we don’t even call them critics, preferring the less grandiose “reviewer”). To understand why, we have to adopt Gabler’s approach and travel back a couple of centuries to a new country that was deeply insecure about its lack of history, lack of culture, and lack of a class system. This insecurity manifested itself in an obsession with doing the right thing — apart from money, how else to define class? — and part of doing the right thing was listening to the right music, reading the right books and so on. Which explains the authority (and self-importance) of the American critic, and is why debates over the future of criticism seem to matter so much more over there.
But though it was coming from a very American standpoint, Gabler’s essay (and the Observer’s presentation of it) implied that “the death of the critic” (or “storming the winter palaces of cultural elitism”, as the Observer sub put it) was a universal phenomenon. So that’s how I’m going to treat it.
Several things annoy me about his analysis, and the coverage of the debate:
1. The conflation of the death of the critic with the death of cultural elitism
If professional criticism is in dire straits it’s because people don’t read newspapers as much as they used to. It’s as simple as that. Gabler’s idea, that for years critics have been coercing “ordinary folk” into watching and reading things they didn’t want to, and that Twitter has finally given them the key to unlock their chains of cultural oppression, is stark raving bonkers.
As for Boardwalk Empire, The Social Network and Freedom being examples of elitist high culture, well, really.
2. The conflation of criticism with reviewing
There will always be a place for academic cultural criticism (as long as there are universities, anyway). A book review in a popular newspaper has quite a different function from one in an academic journal: it needs to entertain as well as inform; it needs to be a good piece of writing on its own terms.
The problem with American reviews (and the occasional English one) is that they tend to confuse the function of the academic reviewer and the journalist. They are far too earnest and reverential (the irritating convention of referring to an author as Mr or Ms, for example), too full of show-offy lit-crit jargon, and as a result pretty boring to read. To be fair, this last point can be extended to American newspapers in general, which is why they appear to be in more trouble than English ones.
3. The myth of a golden age of critical authority
Gabler, and other prophets of doom, seem to have this notion that olden-days people used to crowd round their watercooler (or well, or whatever the equivalent was) to discuss the latest piece of cultural criticism: “I say, did anyone see the hatchet job Frank Leavis did on Virginia Woolf in yesterday’s TLS?”
Most people have never paid the slightest bit of attention to reviewers, which explains the success of critical flops like Arnold Bennett, Gone With the Wind, Catherine Cookson (etc.).
4. The idea that blogging is killing professional criticism
The Observer thought it would be a good idea to ask a pantheon of experts what they thought of Gabler’s essay, and published responses from Miranda Sawyer (who was appalled kids these days had never heard of The Face), Hari Kunzru and, predictably, a book-blogger called BookBitch or BookWhore or something.
Although she made the useful point that internet reviewers can fill the gap between what gets published and what gets written about in newspapers (which is great for genre fiction), she reiterated Gabler’s mad view that critics are “simply an extension of the marketing department” and that the only place to find independent thought and lively debate was online.
Many book-bloggers have a dreadful persecution complex about “the literary establishment”, which they believe conspires to keep out first-time novelists, women, and — most importantly — their own fantastically interesting opinions. They shun professional reviews, because they assume all writers are best friends and are always having dinner with each other in Hampstead where they chortle about writing reviews for each other. Which no doubt some of them do, and some reviews are wildly overblown in their praise, or lazy rehashes of press releases.
But many are not and are intelligent and well-written, which is more than can be said for 95% of blogs. Book-bloggers are passionate about reading, which is lovely, but it doesn’t make them good writers, which you need to be to be a good reviewer.
The other advantage that professional reviewers have is that you’re more likely to have heard of them. Even though I might not agree with everything she says, I’d rather hear what Julie Myerson has to say about the latest AS Byatt than Suzette, full-time mom and doglover from Arkansas.
5. The idea that social networking is killing professional criticism
This is just silly. Anyone who’s used Twitter (I’m assuming Neil Gabler hasn’t) knows it’s impossible to say anything worthwhile in 140 characters or fewer. As for being able to tap into friends’ recommendations, for this to work you have to have the same taste as them, which isn’t always the case.
If anything, the cacophony of opinion on the internet (not to mention the boom in self-publishing, and homemade films and music) means there’s never been a greater need for authoritative voices in culture.
People are hungry for direction, which explains the massive success of book prizes, and the imminent return of Richard & Judy’s Bookclub to our screens. Given the control that publishers wield over these things, the role of the professional critic is more vital than ever.
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