Is This Post "Readable?"
I've seen a number of hilarious yet sad lists of book reviewer cliches (like "a writer to watch" or "beautiful, spare prose") kicking around the Net lately. Google "book review cliches" and you'll see a bunch -- there's even a Bingo board of cliches, so you and friends with way too much time on their hands can play over Sunday brunch while reading the Books section of the paper (assuming you still get the paper, and assuming your paper still has a Books section, which are both pretty dangerous assumptions to make these days).
The book reviewer word that breaks my heart is "readable." I can't believe someone would use this word to describe a book, one they actually enjoyed and think that you will too. It's intended as a compliment, but in fact it indicts the rest of contemporary literature. Because the simple fact that they're saying "hey, this book is great because it's readable" is to imply that other books aren't readable.
Let's ponder that one for a moment. Other books aren't readable? Literally? Or even figuratively? I'm not sure which is more depressing: 1) the fact that this might actually be true, that too many writers are opting for overly dense or academic or show-offy writing styles, afraid that accessibility is the mark of a hack, or 2) the fact that readers think it's true, that they aren't trying hard enough to embrace new styles and will instead conclude that anything a little weird or different is in fact "unreadable."
No one (least of all a critic) would ever describe a film as "watchable," or a paining as "viewable," or a restaurant's cuisine as "edible." In all of these art forms, those adjectives are assumed as the most basic requirement for audience participation. Of course the movie is watchable -- why else would the critic even write about it? Why else would the film have even been made? Yet in contemporary literature, our standards have fallen so low, and our expectations of even the existence of an audience are so sketchy and vague, that a book simply being able to be read is a distinction worthy of pointing out in a review.
If I ever tell you, "Hey, check out my new book, it's really readable!" please, please talk me down from whatever ledge I'm lingering on, and remind me that it's all going to be okay.
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The book reviewer word that breaks my heart is "readable." I can't believe someone would use this word to describe a book, one they actually enjoyed and think that you will too. It's intended as a compliment, but in fact it indicts the rest of contemporary literature. Because the simple fact that they're saying "hey, this book is great because it's readable" is to imply that other books aren't readable.
Let's ponder that one for a moment. Other books aren't readable? Literally? Or even figuratively? I'm not sure which is more depressing: 1) the fact that this might actually be true, that too many writers are opting for overly dense or academic or show-offy writing styles, afraid that accessibility is the mark of a hack, or 2) the fact that readers think it's true, that they aren't trying hard enough to embrace new styles and will instead conclude that anything a little weird or different is in fact "unreadable."
No one (least of all a critic) would ever describe a film as "watchable," or a paining as "viewable," or a restaurant's cuisine as "edible." In all of these art forms, those adjectives are assumed as the most basic requirement for audience participation. Of course the movie is watchable -- why else would the critic even write about it? Why else would the film have even been made? Yet in contemporary literature, our standards have fallen so low, and our expectations of even the existence of an audience are so sketchy and vague, that a book simply being able to be read is a distinction worthy of pointing out in a review.
If I ever tell you, "Hey, check out my new book, it's really readable!" please, please talk me down from whatever ledge I'm lingering on, and remind me that it's all going to be okay.
Go To Post
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