A fair amount of debate on this blog has centered on whether or not it’s “worth it” to write negative reviews, particularly of poetry. “So many people don’t read poetry anyway,” goes the (kind of lame) argument of those who say it is NOT worth it, “so why bother telling them not to?” I think you bother telling them not to because an art that cannot judge itself in an honest and clear-eyed fashion can never be taken seriously. So that is why I had to share this, the best negative review I’ve read so far in 2009, and one of the most well-executed negative reviews I’ve ever read period: “The Anti-Whitman or Out of Many Me, Me, Me : Matthew Dickman’s All-American Poem” by Michael Schiavo over on The Unruly Servant.
Contrary to the title of this post, it’s not a hatchet job, really. The writer isn’t writing it because he has some kind of personal vendetta or because he gets off on being mean. Schiavo likes to like things. But from where he sits, “The phenomenon of the Dickman twins, Matthew and Michael, and specifically Matthew’s first book, All-American Poem, is too powerful to ignore. The collection is so very bad and the method by which the Dickmans have foisted themselves upon the American poetry establishment—and, in turn, by which the poetry establishment has foisted them upon the American public—should be looked at closely.”
Agreement or disagreement with his assessment of Matthew Dickman’s critically acclaimed book and career aside, I admire the way he articulates his belief not just that Dickman’s book—and his attitude toward poetry itself—is essentially offensive and dangerous, but also how and why it is this way, and how and why it is bad not merely in and of itself but Bad for Poetry in General. As one of the commenters, Matthew W. Schmeer puts it, “You know what I like about this review? That fact that you went to great lengths to essentially say ‘this is shit.’”
March 4, 2009
Hatchet Job
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40 comments:
Wow, I really like Matt Dickman's poems. I haven't yet read this review, but I will the moment Lost is over. And while I suspect I won't agree with Schiavo's argument, I do agree that a thoughtful "negative" review that evokes a larger context/cultural moment can be worthwhile and interesting, for example Zadie Smith's semi-recent essay in the NYRB: http://www.nybooks.com/articles/22083.
Just to follow-up, thanks for posting this, Kathy. I’m really interested in the art of reviewing, and the issue of negative reviews raises some interesting questions for sure. There are 2 things that Schiavo does that seem to be particularly important if you’re going to write a negative review: A. offer ample quotes from the book-in-question, so readers can get a sense of the work for themselves and B. offer writers who accomplish what the book-in-question does not. But, that said, I was puzzled by some areas that did seem pointlessly mean to me and didn’t seem to serve the review as a whole. For ex: “Everything about All-American Poem is insulting and self-centered…” and “Dickman is full of shit for a poet who is supposed to be such a straight shooter.” I’m not uncomfortable with negative reviews at all, but lines like that, in addition to the arguably gratuitous references to the various kind of support Dickman has received, makes the review feel weirdly personal to me, like Schiavo does in fact have an ax to grind. As I mentioned in my first comment, I actually like Dickman’s work, but even if the previous quotes appeared in a review of a book I hated, I’d feel the same.
Kathleen: thank you for the support, especially "Schiavo likes to like things." I do. I don't think you'll find much glee in my essay. If Matthew had written a book that knocked my socks off -- as many others have -- my essay would've said that. I'd be the first to lead the parade. I hope my essays on poets like Chris Martin and Joe Massey will do just that, will add to their readership. If my essay does anything to spur Matthew Dickman to write a better book next time, I'll take any criticism in the short term.
Laura: I appreciate the counter-voice to my counter-voice. Do read the book. I would love to read an essay that defends the quality of the writing. Not saying you should be the one to write it but all of the defense for the book has simply been: "I like it." Sure, people can like something but if you're going to have a discussion and counter a thorough criticism, tell me why through examples in the writing.
Laura,
I'm curious as to why you think references to Dickman's support are gratuitous.
I don't know the poet or his work...what I do know is that the poetry and fiction being written today are inevitably threaded through with all kinds of backstory: institutional and otherwise. Isn't it better for that to be part--though for god's sake not all--of what we talk about?
Aren't we in a kind of messy-18th-century-London sort of place rather than a contemplating-the-universe-from-an isolated-rocky-crag moment? Don't we benefit from an open discussion of the social, financial, and institutional underpinnings of the art we pretend is unattached?
Isn't it better to mention how well Boswell knew Johnson?
The best recent example of how comic NOT mentioning this stuff can be is Adam Kirsch's piece on Keith Gessen over at Poetry Foundation. A whole piece on the ire Gessen's debut raised that never mentions n+1.
Isn't that just sort of silly? Must we pretend that we're pure when, if anything, writers and poets are LESS high-minded than the average bear?
I ask these questions out of genuine curiosity...not any merely destructive impulse.
Hi, Drew, this is probably reflective of my reviewing sensibility more than anything, but I didn’t see how those references were relevant. I do agree that transparent conversations about the financial underpinnings are a healthy thing, but in this particular review, I don’t think it strengthened the argument against Dickman’s poems or successfully became part of a broader context, except perhaps to say that the system of awarding prizes and publications is sometimes unfair, which anyone who’s been embroiled in the submission process surely knows. And while I do think frank conversations about the business side are important, in order for them to be productive, it seems we need to reach beyond just saying “the system sucks.”
I should also point out that while I love poetry and read poetry, I am a fiction writer, so I’m not accustomed to thinking about poetry with the same degree of critical rigor as someone who is actually a poet—I do just like what I like. However, I do write book reviews, so the merit of Dickman’s book aside, my issues with the review as an individual work remain.
Laura,
That's certainly fair. I'm not sure that the references to Dickman's phenom status work as they are here--thrown in. I agree that--as they're used--they don't add much.
But I think one of the reasons that references like these, done in this way, are pretty common is that in the "down on snark" reviewing environment, a negative reviewer has to establish that they're a would-be giant-killer. That is, they're not bullying some random innocent first-book poet, but someone who (with the steady accumulation of prizes, grants, and praise) will soon be an un-killable tenure track poet.
Given the weird relationship between tenure and literary reputation, perhaps that is the impulse behind such references. As in, we've got to stop this one now, else we'll never be rid of them.
I'm not a poet either, for the record.
Not all poets are tenure track. In fact, not all poets are even teachers. Just thought I might point that out.
Hey C. Dale--v. good point. I'm not tenure track either; I'm not a teacher at all (nor, I think, are most of us Pshares bloggers, actually).
But Drew, that is also a good point. So much skepticism and negativity are directed at negative reviews these days that it is often not enough for a reviewer to execute a negative review in the same style and length they would a positive or mixed one. Rather, they seem to feel they have to pick people to review negatively that are truly potentially threatening, and then they also have to cover possible criticisms on every level (not just the book, but the possible careerism, the other interviews and sources, the self-presentation as a Poet in general, etc.). It's interesting that in the current critical climate, at least in poetry, for a negative review to "work" or not be dismissed merely as "snark" or a personal beef, it has to be sort of huge and mult-tiered.
Kathleen,
I'm not sure of the "snark" label being taken away by huge and multi-tiered reviews. I think the snark label goes with a tone someone hears (or thinks they hear) inthe review. I could imagine a short negative review that wouldn't sound snarky.
I don't find the Schiavo review snarky, by the way. I think he went for a very in-depth negative review because he thought the book was really, really bad and he wanted to reveal all the ways in which he thought it was bad.
I haven't read either of the Dickmans' books, so I don't know if I agree with his call(s), but I'm pleased to see he's putting it out there.
Drew, those are valid considerations and I think your comments are touching on how incredibly intertwined academia and art have become—to the point where many would assume the most natural move for a writer with a successful first book is to get a tenure track job, which led to me think something along the lines of what C. Dale posted.
I’m going somewhat off-topic here, but what does a tenure track job really amount to, besides a steady paycheck/job security, benefits, and stacks of student work to read? I'm being a little glib, but seriously, since there are loads of tenured profs out there, I have a hard time believing, unless maybe you’re head of Iowa or something, that having a tenured post really translates into that much literary/professional power. However, like Kathy and most of the other bloggers here, I’m outside academia, so maybe I’m not up-to-speed on the current dynamics.
And, Kathy, I think that's also a good/interesting point about negative reviews not able to exist in the same way as positive or mixed reviews. I’m personally not interested in writing negative reviews because the pleasure of reviewing for me is discussing work that I think is interesting and of value, but I don’t see any reason why there should be different standards for negative reviews than there should be for glowing reviews—both should be intelligent, substantive, etc, and while some might be quick to see a vendetta in a negative review, one could argue that it’s just as likely to see a friendship/personal connection in a rave review (though for that reason, I also don’t review books by people I have any kind of close association with).
Hey John--good point about snark and its defninition. For me, the word connotes a shorter, glibber take on things as opposed a longer one. You inspired me to head over to Urban Dictionary (super-authoritative!) to see where I may have gotten that idea, though, and what the word actually denotes and they say snark is a "Combination of 'snide' and 'remark'. Sarcastic comment(s)." So yes--a snarky tone could definitely be present regardless of length. That said, they also defined it as "brief, subtle, yet quite stabbing." And, just because I was over there, one of the last definitions is: "A creature defined in Lewis Carroll's 'The Hunting of the Snark'. Decribed as those creatures 'that have feathers, and bite, and those that have whiskers, and scratch'." Dictionaries = hours o' fun.
Dear Laura,
As someone who has lived around the academic world for some time (my father and mother were both part of the system, and many of my friends teach) I can tell you life for an adjunct (or even a non-tenure track instructor) is fairly awful - low wages, lots of low-level work, no benefits, and little control over what they teach - while tenure guarantees benefits, a better teaching schedule, more empowerment in their classes, and job security. Right now, the system is tending towards more adjuncts and less tenure-track faculty - it's much cheaper for the universities - so tenure-track jobs are quite a prize, not just for English majors but for all academics, including hard-science professors, engineering professors, etc. Many people who want to teach full time never get a tenure-track job, even if they're great teachers and great in their fields. Publishing and prizes (like research grants for engineers and science professors) makes getting tenure more likely, although it's not a guarantee.
K-Rooney...
Not Personal? This "review" is ultra creepy BECAUSE Michael KNOWS Matthew (I believe they were at Bread Loaf together and the rumor mill you're involved with tells me Michael Shiavo was a shitty guest at Matthew's house once) and I suppose has been left in the dust! It's not a review only a very very very weird boy crying because he didn't get what another bot got. And you! Shame on you! Go write a poem!
So, if the commenter above is correct, does this change our opinion of the review? Does it matter that they might know each other? I'm really curious about this--my gut instinct is that it DOES matter, because I then wonder about MS's motives in publishing such a vitriolic attack. I guess I would have liked a "full disclosure" statement, if indeed MS knows MD more than in passing. Other thoughts?
Hey Anon 1, I don't know Michael at all, nor do I know if he knows MD. But I think there is more than enough analysis, explanation, and quoting of actual poems in this review to make this not just a personal attack. MS is critiquing the work. But I am glad that people want to discuss whether or not this is in fact the case--that's why I posted the link. Not to agree or disagree about what kind of people MD and MS might be or how they might or might not have become enemies in the past--I'm interested in reviews and especially negative ones: how they are made and how they fail or succeed. As for shame on me? Not sure why I'd be ashamed for that? Clarify?
Anon 2, you may be right about a full-disclosure statement, though I'm not sure. It seems like the world of poetry is small enough that even if you don't know someone, you know someone who knows that someone and has had a good or bad experience with them. I'm not sure. Other thoughts?
This is a cut and paste from my blog in reply to the same question:
I don't know anything about this Breadloaf/bad houseguest stuff. It could be all made up to discredit the Schiavo review for all I know. So I've no comment on it.
But in the larger sphere, I like the NBCC criteria: If you know where the person lives and can name the person's spouse or significant other, or know the names of their pets or children (if applicable), then you shouldn't be reviewing their work.
I don't think going to Breadloaf together would disqualify someone, in and of itself.
Reviews! Ah. Well, at some point one has to ignore (I suppose, because we all can't know everything) the fact that there might be a motivation behind the review outside of simple reviewing. I'm guessing that there probably is a personal motivation behind a lot of reviews. I would even go so far as to say that's not a bad thing as long as the review itself treats the work fairly.
I think that Schiavo's review of All-American Poem (I still haven't read the book, but I've now read a dozen or so poems from it) is fair. One could say that it's stronger than it needs to be, but one could counter that since there are people out there calling Dickman a genius, the review had to be so strong. I don't know. I'm ambivalent about it myself.
Also, there's the added aspect that what Schiavo is really talking about, and railing against, is the way in which the poetry-world often operates.
Perhaps it would take someone fairly close to the Dickmans to see just how this all happened, and to want to blow the whistle, but I don't know that either. All whistle-blowers could be accused of sour grapes, though that's way overstating this situation.
I think it is VERY important to know that Michael and Matthew DO know each other; not only that, but there is certainly some bad blood in there between them, too.
What makes this so important is that what might be confused as vehement dislike for Matthew's work is actually VERY colored by a personal history with Matthew himself. Had this review been a bit more detached, less eager to tear Dickman apart with cutting asides, then perhaps this would matter less.
Personally, I found this review so mean-spirited it borders on cruel. Of course there has always been, and should always be, a place for a negative book review in American poetry, but this absolutely goes too far. His attacks are too personal. And the fact that he goes through so much trouble to out the Dickman's friends and mentors without mentioning the glaring fact of his own history with Matthew is abominable.
This just in: some fuel for the fire, from a commenter on John Gallagher's blog. Sounds like a job for the now-defunct Foetry!
Gabriela said...
I think much creepier than the Schiavo knowing the Dickmans from Breadloaf is Tony Hoagland knowing Matthew Dickman personally, and still choosing his book for the APR Prize.
Marie Howe shared the Dickman twins' poems and presence with Hoagland beginning in 2004 when she was the visiting teacher at the James Michener Center, where the twins were getting an MFA. Hoagland, Howe's close friend, teaches at Houston.
If the connection between Hoagland and the Dickmans were investigated even a little, it would be roundly condemned as nepotistic. Their personal correspondence alone would show that Hoagland knew quite well that the poems he chose were Matthew's, thus the contest was not anonymous.
Based on the requirements of ethical standards, Hoagland was unethical in choosing All American Poem. The manuscript was recognizable to him as Matthew's and had been promoted by Howe.
I hope that this connection is explored and publicized as yet another example of poetry nepotism trumping professional ethics in prize and publication circles.
8:27 AM
I think that the NBCC criteria is exactly wrong. I think if you know those things (particularly in the parochial world of literature) then you should say so. If the poet borrowed your car and left it at the bottom of the Hudson you should still review their book and mention that...Like I say, this is and ought to be 18th century London--we're too likely to know each other to recuse ourselves. And we shouldn't behave like judges or scholars anyway. That's not the kind of debate we should be having. I'd like to see more reviews that end, "You're a terrible houseguest and I'm crazy about your novel." Or vice-versa.
I think it should be mentioned too, that there ISN'T anything external or ought of bounds to and in novels, poetry, plays, etc.
I don't mean this in a thin postmodern sense. I mean this in the sense that all genres of writing arise in a community for reasons external to those genres. For a few hundred years we've been in love with the crank alone in the room, high atop the crag, walking alone. Forget about that sort of writer for a minute. Literature with some semblance of health takes place in communities that have a need for it. Everything else is a suicide note--though in fairness those can be incredibly well-written, too.
I don't care for opera but I do care for the idea of 18th century opera...where catcalls were the reward for many heartfelt performances. Not the dreadful silence of Art. How many poetry readings, fiction readings, readings that I've attended would have been improved by a little audience pushback. To tell the poet. I'm very bored and what's more? We're all very bored. You haven't touched the fire. Try again. Stop your monotone and try again.
Blurbs, too. How immeasurably they'd be improved if prefaced with phrases amounting to "When X first became my student..." or, conversely "I've never met Y"
So much of how-we-publish-read-and-review-now is left over from a mid-century world where the people in Nebraska buying the books that were published in New York and London were entirely at the mercy of a group of people who would remain unknowable to them UNLESS they managed to live long enough for the relevant biographies to be researched, written, and published.
We don't live in that world anymore but we've got a lot of goofy manners, morals, and protocols left over from it.
Wear your integrity on your sleeve. Stow that staid reverence and respect. Get in there and shove.
Equally "creepy" if that word even applies is the fact that pretty much the only people I have seen come to Dickman's defense in comment streams have done so anonymously -- leading me to believe that these anonymous individuals know Dickman personally as well (or are Dickman personally), and are worried about their own credibility being questioned if they use their real names. Unfortch commenting anonymously is the great credibility eraser.
i posted a poem by Matthew Dickman on my blog
with concomitant praise—-
i probably wouldn't have bothered to read him without
this foofara . . .
(the poems i've read by his brother are also worthy of acclaim)
...
To address one of the anon’s points, while I don’t know the extent of Matthew and Michael’s personal relationship, it’s worth pointing out that being at Bread Loaf at the same time doesn’t necessarily constitute knowing someone well enough to make review objectivity an issue—as in, you’re there with approximately 200 other people.
Newest comment in response to Michael Schiavo's review:
Michael said...
Hello All,
Michael, you owe me around $50 dollars from when you stayed with Matthew in Austin, and never seemed to have money for tacos or beer. I still have receipts. Oh those were the days. Poems and Led Zep! I hope you're well. Maybe next time Hoagland will pick your book. Are you still writing sonnets?
Yours,
Michael Dickman
7:38 PM
My personal feelings about Michael Schiavo aside (I will disclose that he was at a pizza party at my apartment once and didn't chip in AT ALL for pizza or beer), I found his review to be quite well considered.
Michael Dickman (who I don't know, but have heard is always happy to chip in, usually tipping 18-20% due to his own history in the food industry) won $4,000 dollars cash money in Narrative Magazine's Narrative Prize Contest last summer. The poetry editor of Narrative Magazine is Michael Wiegers, the Dickmans' editor at Copper Canyon. Does anyone care? Maybe all the suckers who sent $20 to get their work "read."
Seriously though- should we still be surprised by this?
I heard Schiavo's credit score was 470 and Dickman's was 520. I think we all know what that means
...
See, this is great. While this isn't what literature is about, I think we can all agree that this sort of venality is EXACTLY what literary people are about. Let's work with it as the web prevents us from being able to sweep it under the carpet.
A second point about tenure, awards, poets, and readers. There is basically no critical reception beyond incestuous reviewing and awarding. Stature is built that way. If there is no readership as such...venality like Dickman seems to be benefiting from is nearly the only arbiter of merit.
Who has the stature to reach the 3 non-writing readers poetry has left? These sorts of beneficiaries. Makes you wonder if that's how poetry got to this sad place in the first place.
Personally, I think y'all should save the anecdotes for when you write your "A Movable Feast." That book is lot of fun.
I've enjoyed the energy of this discussion, but I have to say that I'm surprised that anyone still believes in the idea that not knowing a writer (or knowing one) is a guarantee of anything in a review, and certainly not objectivity, neutrality, or a fair shake--any of those ideas which pretend that the problem of ideology can be eliminated.
For at least a hundred years now, the model of poetry communities as interactive, partial, biased, contentious, and closely intertwined has been the source of most poetry that's worth much. And for the most part, the only interesting poetry magazines are the ones that highlight a profile and a point of view that not only assumes that people know each other, but could only be created because they do.
And it's a model not only for poetry: consider the rise of DIY in rock and other musics and how that's often been the only way to subvert the banality and control of the commercial marketplace. DIY was built on the idea of the small record company promoting worthwhile bands in its nearby proximity, but thrived because of countless small publications that reviewed these records and interviewed the bands and were often made up of unabashed fans who managed to build a network of interested people. Far from not wanting to know each other, the goal was to get involved, with each other and much else.
So I'm not sure what exactly is gained by imagining that writers who don't know the writers they are reviewing are likely to have anything more insightful to say about the work in question. Distance, unfamiliarity, and lack of information don't necessarily result in seeing a work more clearly. They're just as likely to lead to reviewers who don't know what they're talking about, or who apply the standards they've gained from their own social networks and ideologies to works produced that contest those ideologies.
Or consider Whitman, writing reviews of his own Leaves of Grass under a pseudonym, and even putting words from one of Emerson's private letters in the review. The gall of that guy for not waiting for the dispassionate objective professionals to come along and explain what it was all about. At least the good news is that he got what he deserved: who reads that crap anymore anyway?
I think, if I read you correctly, Mr. Wallace, that I phrased myself badly at the end of my last spiel. The incestuous nature of poetry is par for the course and not a bad thing but it can become a bad thing if all negative reviewing is off the table. If the familiar reviewing is all triumphal nonsense, then it becomes an issue. Then it's all just everyone writing everyone else's recommendations.
When writers care they tell people they socialize with that they've written poorly. That HAS happened in these communities you're talking about. If it happens now, someone cries snark! or bad taste! or elevate the discourse!
That's the issue.
A Schiavo interview:
http://allpurposemagicaltent.blogspot.com/2009/03/part-one-interview-with-michael-schiavo_11.html
Mark Wallace: I do think you're right that an informed review, whether recommending the book or not, can better be written by someone who knows the poet and her poems than someone looking at the book for the first time. I'm not saying that should be the only mode, but it should be a possibility. I love reading reviews where someone gets the work and shows me how I might, and it's pretty easy to tell that apart from a shallow act of sucking-up. Not recommendations, but thoughtful understandings of how the poetry is working.
About 11,000 books of poems will be published this year. We can't read everything, so reviews need to be ways of sharing information on the poetic landscape, both to help us select books but also more widely to form part of the discussion itself. (To some extent, there always have been; there's plenty of reviewers through history who value the review as the end-goal in itself. Coleridge on Shakespeare makes me want to read more Coleridge, not more Shakespeare!)
If anyone's interested, I interviewed Michael Schiavo before his review happened, and Part One is up today at my blog. I think there's something really interesting happening at Northshire Books with the Espresso Book Machine, and I'm curious to see how it might add to our poetic landscape.
Drew, I think you're right to point out that there are ways that literary or artistic communities can become helpful rather than a problem. Such communities work best when conversation is open, lively, intense, risky, dangerous in a good way, etc--that is when people in those communities feel like they can speak their minds to each other and so on. When communities start preaching conformity and ostracizing those who don't conform is often when problems start.
This was always an issue in the punk and other music communities I was part of or knew about in the 80s (note: I'm not a musician, but I was a music reviewer, among other things, for a few years before I started publishing poems). There was always a tension between those who felt the music had to be played a certain way or it wasn't punk and those who felt punk was as much an idea about how to do things a different way as it was any kind of single musical style one had to conform to.
Of course, the tension between those two approaches was also responsible for some of the best of what happened. But at the same time it was responsible for some of the worst.
Obviously, since I don't know you, I don't know the kind of people you're interacting with. For me I've never found that most scenes are either purely conformist or purely open; they're always engaged in a balancing act at best. Some work a lot better than others, that's for sure. And individual personalities--may we all be forgiven for having them--can make things better or make them worse, always.
The question I've always had--and I've been an (amateur) sports coach at times too, which informs my thinking on this--is when to call someone out publicly, as in the published review, and when to have the conversation privately on the side. I usually prefer to start privately. That may be the best way to get someone to "see the light," and if the goal is to get someone to do something better, that's usually the best approach. But if I feel like there's no way to get through, or that other people need to be alerted to the problem, then it's time to go public.
Mark: You're spot on, re: communities make for the most interesting poetry, whether via reviews that have real insight or magazines that aren't just a bunch of names solicited to make said zine look like every other zine out there. But wondering if at least, when friends review friends, it's important for the reviewer to make clear to the reader this connection? I ask that sincerely.
JMWS
Another Anon weighs in on the hoopla via John Gallaher's blog:
At 8:57 AM, Anonymous said...
JG,
First of all, I like your work a lot.
So there.
As to the rumor mill:
Dickman is about as close to Hoagland as Schiavo. They both had spent time with Hoagland at Breadloaf. Dickman and Schiavo were friends at Breadloaf. Dickman even spoke up on Schiavo's behalf when Collier wanted to through him out for bad behavior. Later Schiavo came to stay with Dickman and was, well, pretty awful. STill, they shared work with each other, etc...Then their relationship quietly ended. No real drama. Schiavo kept writing and Dickman kept writing. Then this sort of sociopathic bitter and small minded review showed up that you seem to want to celebrate. Dickman is not some Lowell-type monster pushing people out of his way. So why the ax? Does your man Murphy deserve as much attention? Sure. No doubt. Fine. Who doesn't? But you can't blame Dickman for that.
JMWS, it's a fair question, certainly.
Frankly, in a lot of cases, especially if it's a small publication or one focused on a certain kind of work, I more or less assume that the reviewer knows the writer, or is at most at one or two degrees of separation from them. If the magazine is developing a conversation on a certain kind of writing, then it's likely that the writers it's featuring have some fairly close relationship to the conversation. At something like Poetry Project Newsletter, for instance, you can assume that everybody knows everybody or if they don't, they will a few days after the review is published.
I also think it's probably appropriate that more institutional forums have regulations regarding the issue and follow them. American Book Review, for instance, doesn't want the reviewer to know the writer. To me that policy sometimes feels a little strict and ends up limiting what they do, but in a case like that I suppose it would be more necessary to call attention to the connection if there was one.
In a review on someone's blog, my feeling is that anything goes. People trying to police behavior in that kind of loose forum need better things to do with their time.
I think that the clubby world of Slate provides a pretty useful model. The standard Slate writers (and others who don't contribute as frequently) simply offer a parenthetical aside. As in: (Full Disclosure: I performed X's wedding ceremony and I am wholly owned by Viacom).
Why not something as simple as that? The tone of journalistic web commentary is much closer to the tone we need...it recognizes a likelihood of interaction and discourages the faux-academic sound of so many reviews. Let's move away from modeling ourselves after academic culture which, let's face it--aside from providing funding and a roof--has done literary culture few favors and move back to the culture where reviewing was born in the first place--journalism. A nasty family fistfight sort of culture. I like it.
Remember that the academy didn't begin to notice that there was literature being written by breathing individuals until after 1900 at the very earliest. There's something to be said for the resultant lack of high mindedness.
Ok, I am very much enjoying all of this conversation about reviewing ethics and literary culture, but I have to admit that part of me (the gossip girl part) is just DYING to know if the Dickmans are really Sharon Olds' nephews. Could someone please indulge me here?
Mark: agree, on all points. I think the implicit assumption on the readers' part ought to be that there is a connection between reviewer and reader, and so be it. If the review is engaged, engaging, thoughtful, etc., then it has done its job, regardless of connection.
I do think, and agree with Drew here, that institutional/commercial venues ought to require acknowledgment of any connection. I have friends who have reviewed for the NYTBR, for example, and they are supposed to notify the editors of any conflicts, as the policy is reviewers cannot review friends. I'm not sure that's always the case there, but it's the ghost of a policy. And yet, why do we seem to require institutional full disclosure? To what end? I suspect it has something to do with the old-school journalistic fetish for objectivity (I'm not condemning it), and possibly is related to the peer-referee system academic journals have in place. Though that system is more akin to the paranoid rules all the book contests have now employed, to ward off the likes of Foetry.
I for one, welcome a reviewer intimate with a person's work, so rare in cases where a book has been assigned, rather than reviewed out of personal interest. So many assigned reviews read like introductions to a body of work, an impression gleaned in a short burst, rather than the thoughts of a person familiar, even well-versed in the work. What's the point of this kind of reviewing, at least when it comes to poems? I don't know.
JMWS
This just in: a different take on Schiavo's review:
http://htmlgiant.com/?p=6002
In response to Kathleen Rooney's comment. It is a Hatchet Job by a young man who went to school at Austin the same time Matthew Dickman did, who Matthew Dickman welcomed into his home to stay for 5 days, who Michael Dickman loaned $50.00 to so Schiavo could have beer and tacos..AND THEN..the Dickman's brillant poetry passed up Shiavos and alas a poor loser in deed. And yes it is a personal vendetta but you would have no way of knowing that. And that you admire the way his articulation of his "hate mail" speaks volumes about you. Shiavo has "poet envy" pure and simple. And there is a reason for that. Have you read his work?
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