Every critic knows that readers love a spirited hatchet job, whether or not the author being chopped is one whose work they’ve hated—or even read. Much of the public seems to possess an ambient belief that the literary world is filled with frauds and self-styled geniuses whose reputations have been propped up by venal publishers and the reviewers who toady up to them. In this light, anyone who dares to challenge the allegedly phony consensus by ripping apart one of the unjustly elect gets hailed as a hero. Every so often, a particularly harsh review will prompt an outcry; recently this happened after William Giraldi’s slashing, in the New York Times Book Review, of two books by the relatively unknown novelist, Alix Ohlin, whom he damned for embracing “the bland earnestness of realism.” But Ohlin was small fry, and much of the outrage Giraldi’s review ignited—he was accused on Twitter of failing to perform a critic’s basic duties and of producing a “pretentious, vicious and self-regarding” piece of work, among other offenses—seemed to arise from the sense that he was an insufferable blowhard while she was nice, or at the very least, harmless. Continue reading at 'Slate'
[ Slate | 2017-09-05 00:00:00 UTC ]