Updike's Rules for Reviewers

Critical Mass, the blog of the National Book Critics Circle (NBCC) Board of Directors, recently posted John Updike's rules for reviewers, drawn from the introduction to his collection Picked Up Pieces. I am a member of NBCC and have written scores of reviews ranging from 190-word Choice snippets to review essays, and over the last few days have been giving Updike's rules a lot of thought.

Updike was as good a reviewer and essayist as he was a novelist, and so with all humility I want to respond to his ideas. I'll highlight his rules and will then respond after each.

"My rules," he writes, "shaped intaglio-fashion by youthful traumas at the receiving end of critical opinion, were and are:

His drawing from "youthful traumas" is not happenstance. Reviews of my books have been quite good, but in academia everyone has to deal with the dreaded reader's report for both journal article and book submissions, and frankly if you haven't experienced "youthful traumas," or mid-career traumas for that matter, you haven't been submitting things. The double-blind peer review process might seem like the gold standard for objectivity, but most commonly, blind review allows people to be pricks with no repercussions. No one has ever adequately explained to me why reviewers ought to get or need the protection of anonymity. As a result, now that i review both book manuscripts and article submissions I have committed myself to constructive and fair criticism, and have endeavored in particular to avoid the gatekeeper effect whereby I see myself as the gatekeeper to the kingdom of publication. generally speaking, I want things to see the light of day and let the reader (and future reviewers) decide. this is not always possible, but I think it is a pretty sound best practice.

1. Try to understand what the author wished to do, and do not blame him for not achieving what he did not attempt.

Another way to think of this is to review the book the author has written, not the one she did not write. It is amazing how many reviews assess the latter instead of the former. Yes, it is fair to address opportunities miss, arguments ignored, peculiar choices. But take the book on its own terms.

2. Give him enough direct quotation--at least one extended passage--of the book's prose so the review's reader can form his own impression, can get his own taste.

Ahh, the golden age of book reviewing. I think Updike's standard here is likely more apt for fiction in any case, but in his time book reviewers were allotted a great deal more space than most of us get now. Plus, let's face it -- Updike could likely write as much as he wanted. I agree that it is great to quote when appropriate, especially to highlight particularly good (or bad) writing, but extended passages can be tough given a word limit that is likely to weigh in at something under, usually well under, a thousand words.

3. Confirm your description of the book with quotation from the book, if only phrase-long, rather than proceeding by fuzzy precis.

Again, this seems more apt for fiction reviewers. Of course Updike lays out a false dichotomy here inasmuch as a non-fuzzy precis seems appropriate depending on context.

4. Go easy on plot summary, and do not give away the ending. (How astounded and indignant was I, when innocent, to find reviewers blabbing, and with the sublime inaccuracy of drunken lords reporting on a peasants' revolt, all the turns of my suspenseful and surpriseful narrative! Most ironically, the only readers who approach a book as the author intends, unpolluted by pre-knowledge of the plot, are the detested reviewers themselves. And then, years later, the blessed fool who picks the volume at random from a library shelf.)

This one is almost wholly aimed at fiction writers. It is pretty difficult for a reviewer of a book on the Civil War to keep the outcome a secret.

5. If the book is judged deficient, cite a successful example along the same lines, from the author's ouevre or elsewhere. Try to understand the failure. Sure it's his and not yours?

This is great advice. Most nonfiction reviewers will do this as a matter of course, placing the book within a larger literature or situating it within various schools, debates, arguments, or trends. And, yes, when pointing out failures or shortcomings, make sure they are both the writer's and that they are germane.

I am going to break this next paragraph down into its component parts as it contains some of the richest material:

To these concrete five might be added a vaguer sixth, having to do with maintaining a chemical purity in the reaction between product and appraiser. Do not accept for review a book you are predisposed to dislike, or committed by friendship to like.

I think this is key. In the historical profession it becomes increasingly difficult to review books of complete strangers. we tend to know one another or to know one anothers' colleagues or advisors or what have you. but it seems clear to me that you don't review books of clear enemies or dear friends. Forget about the ethical aspect of this latter -- if a book reviewer owed his audience honesty first and foremost, is it really worth it to run the risk of losing a friend? And while sticking it to a foe might seem worthwhile, the personal animus is either already known or will become clear. Trust me -- at a certain point your problem will be that you have too many books to review, not too few. Turn down any where conflicts are attendant. (If the Times comes calling, of course, let your conscience be your guide.)

Do not imagine yourself a caretaker of any tradition, an enforcer of any party standards, a warrior in an idealogical battle, a corrections officer of any kind.

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

Never, never (John Aldridge, Norman Podhoretz) try to put the author "in his place," making him a pawn in a contest with other reviewers.

I love how in telling people not to grind axes, Updike grinds a couple of axes. Well played, sir!

Review the book, not the reputation.

You know, I don't entirely agree with this one. Here is why. Sometimes a book explodes and gets far more credit than it deserves and in so doing overwhelms other, worthier books. I don't think one should go after a big name just to get a notch on one's belt, but I also think it is fair to say, this book that's getting a lot of praise? It's not so good and it is muscling out these books that deserve your attention. I stand by this, for example (though how naive was I to think that FML would be published in 2003?).

Submit to whatever spell, weak or strong, is being cast. Better to praise and share than blame and ban.

I agree 100% Better to err on the side of kindness and give a book a chance than to condemn. Humility in reviewing is an invaluable trait. And I say this as someone not often accused of excessive humility. But there is lots and lots of very good work out there and there will be long after you've penned your last review.

The communion between reviewer and his public is based upon the presumption of certain possible joys in reading, and all our discriminations should curve toward that end.

Reviewing is, to my mind, invaluable and underrated. A reviewer is part of a conversation, neither the first nor the last word. Take criticism seriously as a writer of it, a recipient of it, and a reader of it.

Updike's Papers

I am not the world's biggest fan of literary criticism as it too often manifests itself in American universities (ie: po-mo/post-structuralist blather). But good writing about books and authors is just about the most important thing imaginable within the walls of a university (other than the teaching, reading, and writing history, of course). Were I an early stage American literature graduate student in Harvard's English department I'd be making a beeline to Houghton Library, Harvard's main repository for archives, rare books, and the like, to check out John Updike's newly acquired papers.

On The Bedside Table: Rabbit, Run

"On the Bedside Table" was one of my ideas for a regular feature that I have not been great about following up on (as with so many of my clever ideas for regular content). Basically the idea is to write mini-reviews of a few of the things I've been reading of late. I am going to try to resurrect it now, but this time I'm just going with one book, John Updike's Rabbit, Run.

Rabbit Angstrom was John Updike's most enduring character. A former high school basketball star whose life after high school has been a disappointment, Angstrom represents in many ways the flawed everyman - I even invoked Angstrom in an essay I just finished about the difficulties athletes have with moving on from their sporting glories. Updike wrote four books about Rabbit, plus a short story that provides something of a coda, from what I unederstand. Two of the books won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction.

I picked up a Penguin Paperbacks copy of Rabbit, Run when I was at Keele in May. I was in an Updike mood, having read a number of excerpts from his essays after his death and wanting to shore up one of the many holes in my reading of the classics. I've read my share of Updike's essays and fiction that has appeared in The New Yorker, but am woefully short on his novels. I assumed the character of Rabbit might speak to me, what with the whole ex-jock thing and all.

The plot is rather simple: Rabbit is unhappy with his life. He flees his wife one night, driving aimlessly with vague dreams of escape, but then finally returning, though to the clutches of another woman rather than his wife. But his wife is pregnant, so he goes back to her, realizes he still sort of loathes her, leaves again, and a tragedy so awful and ugly and avoidable takes place that it propels the reader to the conclusion and, though it is likely even Updike did not know that the Rabbit Angstrom novels would become a series, to the books to follow.

Rabbit, Run is a good book, which is a pretty banal summation, but I choose it intentionally. For while it is good, it was not as sterling as I expected, and with Updike, goodness is sort of assumed. I will read the next installment in the series in hopes that the characters become more likable (in this first book if there is a likable character I do not recall their role), that Updike gives room for Rabbit, despite all of his foibles, to breathe a bit more. There is no questioning Updike as a stylist, though I could have done with less of the gimmicky inner monologues. But something by the end had me grabbed -- perhaps thematically more than plotwise or in terms of character development -- so that I want to see how this Rabbit Angstrom fellow fucks it all up the next time.

RIP, John Updike, Baseball Fan

John Updike, a colossus in American letters by any measure, died Tuesday. He was 76. Updike was a baseball fan. And he contributed what is almost certainly the greatest single essay about the sport, an impressive accomplishment given the deep interconnections between baseball and writers. "Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu" is a paean to Ted Williams, Fenway Park, and the game itself.

What a lousy week this has been for book lovers.

Baseball Playoffs: Fearless Predictions

In yesterday's Boston Globe Bob Ryan had a wonderful column remembering John Updike's New Yorker essay "Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu," one of the finest pieces of writing about baseball or anything else. The playoffs start this week with lots of compelling storylines: Is the the year the Cubs finally break through, rewarding their fans like the Red Sox and White Sox have rewarded theirs in recent years? Will the Tampa Rays' carriage turn into a pumpkin, or are they for real? Can the Red Sox repeat, establishing a legitimate claim to the first dynasty of the twenty-first century? And a Cubs-Red Sox World Series: great matchup or the greatest matchup?

I'm thrilled with how the Red Sox are heading into the postseason. They did not have a dominant year, but they still emerged with one of the four best records in baseball and are poised for another deep postseason run. They have the pitching, especially to master the short five-game series, when they will only need to rely on a three-man rotation, with Beckett, Dice-K, and Lester to take the hill. The Sox struggled against the Angels and Rays this year more than I would like to see but that will not matter one bit in the postseason. The lineup is reasonably balanced, and is led less by Big Papi than by MVP candidates Kevin Youkilis and Dustin Pedroia. Terry Francona is as well equipped for this stage of the season as anay manager in baseball, and to my mind handled the last two weeks of the season just about perfectly, as he did last year. The Angels are talented. They have a deep lineup and they play small ball, but they do not work deep into counts, which may favor the Red Sox starters. They will rely on their starting pitching to bridge the way to their excellent relievers, so the key for the Red Sox will be to get to the starters early to disrupt Mike Scoscia's preferred pitching usage and to get whacks at the middle relievers. The Angels want to shorten the game by getting to K-Rod. The Sox have to avoid K-Rod getting into that situation. They thus need to work pitch counts, be patient, score early, and avoid a traditional Red Sox bugaboo even for good teams: leaving men on base. The Angels may have been the best team in the regular season, but the Red Sox have been their nightmare in the playoffs. I expect that to continue. Sox in four.

As for the other matchups:

Tampa has a huge advantage inasmuch as the AL Central has yet to be decided, with the White Sox having to make up a missed game against Detroit today and if they win, then facing a one-game playoff against the Twins. That has to favor the Rays who will continue their run for another week. No matter who they play, Rays in five.

The Cubs have been the best team in the National league by a long way. The Dodgers won the worst division in baseball only in the last week. This should be a mismatch. It won't be. The post-Manny Dodgers have been very good. Joe Torre knows how to manage in the postseason. On paper this should not be close. In reality, it will take the Cubs five games to pull this one out (and part of me wants to predict the Dodgers).

The fight for the final spot in the postseason represented a war of attrition. The Mets did their now-traditional vanishing act (New York Baseball Fever: Catch It!) thus allowing the Brewers to slink into the playoffs like a drunk trying not to wake his spouse as he stumbles into things on the way to the bedroom. The Phillies did not exactly seize the east until late. Nonetheless the Phils will take this largely because the Brewers won't know how. Phillies in five.

The Cubs will beat the Phillies in 6 for the NLCS, the Sox will beat the Rays in five for the ALCS, and the Red Sox, playing the role of hissable bullies and enemies to karma, will break the hearts of Cub fans yet again in six games split between Fenway Park and Wrigley that will cause an outbreak of purple prose across the land. Go Sox!!!