Love the Literary Critic

Question of the Week

Do I need to think about appealing to literary critics?  

Friends will often mock my ardent love for a slightly different type of bible and a less-than-Christ-like character. His name features in almost every literary essay (and several philosophy papers) since I was awarded his book for my accumulation of the Most Random Facts About Authors. The book was 'How Fiction Works' and although I first eyed it with awe because it was selected by my charismatic tutor, that awe swiftly passed onto the authorial voice of the book. The Guardian describes how 'by examining the minutiae of character, narrative and style in a range of fictional works that starts with the Bible and ends with Coetzee and Pynchon, he fondly and delicately pieces back together what the deconstructors put asunder'; Vulture satirises him as the 'new literary sheriff in town, [for whom] you'd better walk the stylistic straight and narrow. Too many adjectives in your first novel, and you'll be strung up, cowboy'; my personal favourite comes from The New York Magazine:

[He has] established himself as one of the strangest, most vivid critical characters on the scene. He’s been, by now, pretty much universally acknowledged—grudgingly, fawningly, eagerly, nervously, warningly, or mockingly, depending on which journals you subscribe to—as the best book critic currently classing up the back end of America’s magazines.

Doesn't he sound intriguing? Exciting? Strange? Different? Indeed, he does, and I'm sure this is why his allure is so compelling. His name is James Wood, he looks rather like the stereotyped artist who belongs behind the click-clacking keys of a type-writer. Or in other caricature guises: a dictatorial pen-wielder or a lackadaisical journalist. He's the much lauded 'best literary critic in the world', which I won't cast aspersions on but which, even if I do agree with the sentiment, I will note with a raised eyebrow (in the world... how do they know?). 

Writing critically is now punctuated with the question: What Would Wood Think/Do/Say? Reading is incomplete unless I've compared the content to what he has said of other works. Criticism is read with his voice agreeing or disagreeing in my head as I juxtapose ideas against ideas. This is not to say that I hold no original thoughts, I like to think that I do, but that when I read I hope to convey my ideas with similar charm and insight. I admire him. As a literature student, it is nice to come across a critic whose voice holds the enthusiasm you thought was lost in page upon page of poorly translated Derrida; whose approach is to collect the 'dewdrops' of text into a kettle full of water. 

But when I'm trying to write something creative, am I drawn towards Free Indirect Style because of his praise or do I appeal to the transient laws of high-realism? This is unlikely - having taken a brilliant course on Realism with Dr. Marsha Collins (UNC), I found contextualising Wood against the Realist movement intriguing, exciting and illuminating.Writing about Hegelian dialectics in Dostoevsky, Zola and Dickens can only be described as a pleasure. However, I would argue that it is not because of Wood that I would adapt to the style of any of the authors studied on the course - it is because we are hysterical as a race, our instinct is to dramatise the life that we lead. Expressions from songs: 'she keeps her face in a jar by the door, who is it for'; telling facebook that you 'just had ate three apples'; declaring that we are 'starving', that we 'hate' this or 'love' that, that a headache feels like a man 'drilling a hole in your skull' etc etc. We like to create monsters under our bed, extremities of emotion. Authors such as these appeal because they capture our insincerities, insecurities and idiosyncrasies. Raskolnikov rambles on and on about his desire to be Napolean, a man historical; Therese Raquin is bound by the 'blood and horror' to a man she once imagined being 'happy' with 'forever and ever'; the 'metallurgical Louisa' wants to 'burst out' of her imposed 'character' whereas Bounderby wants to 'burst into' his portrait and 'futurity'. There are idiosyncratic parallellisms that appeal to us as readers, struggles that we impose upon literature through interpretation. 

As a writer, these sort of things appeal to me. I'm interested in psyche and the interpretation of the real. Did you know that any more or less than a 30ft distance and your vision is distorted beyond true 'reality'? Wood appeals to me as a critic because of his tone, his authority, his characterised narrative but most of all because of his reading list. Saying of himself in an interview for The Morning News:

If one were [ask]ing, “Well what is Wood’s taste based on?”—a certain level of intellectualism. Certainly verbal exuberance and complexity. Updike. Bellow. Roth, too. A certain love of voice. 

So yes, I would want to appeal, in some way to what he demands of his favourite writers and adhere in part to the style of those novels he praised. This choice though is not to do with him - it is to do with my own preference. I like what he likes. He's written the things that I want to say when I can't find the words. Don't try and fit the critic, fellow Scribblers. Seek a critic that fits you - find one, love them and take what they offer to heart. If you admire someone but realise that your novel is the epitome of all that they loathe, either respect your different values or use the techniques that apply to your work and only use those. Your style is your own, let yourself grow into it by interfusing it with ideas from those you admire. Accept criticism, accept that not everyone will favour you and that you cannot appeal to everyone, and lastly: keep learning. You can never have too much craft. 


Je serai poète et toi poésie, 
SCRIBBLER