Francis Bacon, Figure with Meat (1954) |
It's this point of view that many have argued is what is wrong with critics today. I'm not sure how much of a critical eye or ear I have. But I consume a lot, and for things that I like, I want to promote them. That's why you're here. You think that I have something to offer (a new band, a new book) that you as well will enjoy and will enhance your life in some way. Perhaps that is why I like Twitter. I can simply express distaste for something in a sentence or two, not worry about thinking about it critically.
A recent article by Maria Popova is quite in line with my point of view. The brief article culminates in this final line: "That is the promise of the critic-as-celebrator—to inform and shape culture by virtue of elevation." Which reinforces that you don't have to like everything: not everyone deserves a trophy. And yeah, I guess it is a little hippieish, not wasting time spreading negative energy and all that. Ultimately, if a book is so shitty that it creates feelings of ire from the depths of my being, it may be worth writing about for stirring as intense of an emotion that the most brilliantly life-changing novels have made me feel. But boredom, dislike, or (worst of all) a complete lack of any emotional stir isn't worth the time that I already spent reading such a piece of garbage.
Further reading:
The Decline of Book Reviewing
Against Enthusiasm
The Case for Positive Book Reviews
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