Writer-on-Writer Crimes: A Postscript

Why did I wade into this muck? I was thinking of how Alix Ohlin, or anyone in her position, might feel. Empathy should be an essential and required part of any fiction writer’s approach. I don’t really know her, though we are Facebook friends. My post wasn’t just about that review, which is only one element in a series of recent events—a few snarky pieces about writers masquerading as praise, ongoing commentary about reviews (positive and negative), and the “clubby” culture of writers interacting on Twitter/Facebook.

Because Ohlin’s books have been out for three months, some have suggested that the NYTBR may have shelved this review back in June, but brought it out after this “reviews are too nice/writers online are too nice” discussion emerged. We might never know the exact sequence, but I am curious. I would like to know if they assigned the review to Giraldi, and why, or if he pitched the review.

That said, I didn’t write “Writer-on-Writer Crimes” to defend Ohlin or any of the other writers mentioned. I’m still waiting to receive Ohlin’s books; I haven’t read them, as I made clear in the post. 

Sometimes the responders I’ve interacted with seem stranded on the other side of a wide canyon we can never hope to cross, so different are our interpretations. A few disagree that Giraldi’s review is a takedown of realism, despite a line that’s against “earnest realism” in the review. I suppose one could say he’s only against realism when it’s earnest, but Ohlin seems interested in exploring many sides of realism, often moving toward the fabulist, as Giraldi notes. One commenter insists that Giraldi’s own fiction is realistic, and therefore he can’t be against realism, but when I pointed out that his novel is about a man “confronting creatures both mythic and real—Bigfoot on the Canadian border, space aliens in Seattle,” etc., I’m told that’s still realism. Maybe the book employs certain elements of realism. But space aliens equal realism?

Others were unwilling to even consider the possibility that Ohlin’s prose could be anything but bad, given the tiny samples quoted in Giraldi’s argument. I seemed unreasonable to some for suspending judgment about her prose; there are many ways a writer can use clichés, I said, and since I know Ohlin is sometimes quite funny, it’s not hard to imagine at least a few of those ways. I still contend that a review arguing against an author’s prose style should include a fuller, more representative sample. After I read Inside and Signs and Wonders, if I agree with Giraldi’s sentiments about Ohlin’s prose, I’ll say so. I’m not against honest criticism or negative reviews, only nasty ones—and my most sincere concern, reading the review, is that he did not honestly approach the books with the hope of liking them. He did not read Ohlin’s work on its own terms. He faults her for not doing what he would do, instead of faulting her for failing at what she set out to accomplish.

Still, I caught the most flak about linking to the piece about Cheryl Strayed. Some wrote to say I was being unfair, and that the jealous woman’s post was “500% positive,” as one friend said. So I read it again. There is no longer any mention of Strayed’s 10 extra pounds and shoddy clothes, and no mention of this seriously important edit. No wonder people thought I was being unfair. They didn’t read the same post I did. The piece is still link bait, regardless. Could she have included Strayed’s name a few more times? Even in the edited version, there’s still a mocking tone applied to the “sisterhood” and the rest. I get madder the more I think about this. You want to be Sugar? Maybe you should start by actually reading her columns. Take her advice. Don’t do something like this again.

In the end, some of my comments seem a little hypocritical. I said that extremely nasty reviews are often about the reviewer climbing ladders, staking out some kind of position, carving out an identity, and getting known. Even though a nasty review distances potential readers, there are still gains to be had, which is why everyone from Colson Whitehead (in his 2002 review of Richard Ford’s story collection[1]) to young writers without any publications will raise hackles and rile up “the writing world” (a phrase I’ve seen a hundred times in the last few days). 

Some have said my own post is also self-promotion, but I wasn’t “reviewing the review,” as some have said, and I didn’t write about myself. It’s mostly commentary on the last few weeks, and a quick rhetorical analysis of Giraldi’s review. I didn’t write it to promote a tiny collection of stories that’s been out for 15 months. One man noted that my post was published on a website bearing my name, a clear indictment of my own wish to climb ladders and become known. When I pointed out that I published this post on the blog portion of my author website—you know, because it’s a blog post and I’m an author with a website—he never responded. I also didn’t call for Giraldi to be blacklisted, as some have said. How could I? My blog post might have reached a few hundred readers. Maybe. I said that I wouldn’t spend money or devote any more time to writers and publications that participate in such nasty reviews. I didn’t ask anyone to join me.

After others linked to “Writer-on-Writer Crimes” and shared it online, I received many friend requests and gained new followers across the social media outlets I use, so many that I spent a lot of time on Sunday and Monday reading and answering other people’s comments about this. I have to wonder: Did I somehow gain something from wading in? At least a few people told me they bought my book because they liked the post. Writers I admire but don’t really know wrote to say they’re reading Naked Summer and enjoying the stories. And if I could gather for two weeks each summer the more than two-dozen top-shelf writers who have written me privately to thank me for the piece, Bread Loaf and Sewanee would no longer be necessary. I could replace them with the Andrew Scott Summer Writers Conference©.

You can send your money here.

 

 

 

[1] Ford’s comments (re: author/characters=master/slaves) were offensive, and I’m so often disappointed by the things he says, despite loving several of his books. Whitehead’s an engaging writer, so his review has its pleasures, I suppose, though Ford’s comments seem to be the impetus, which means he didn’t approach the book on its own terms. The review’s ending is sharp—one of the all-time good barbs. Whitehead’s review got people talking, long before Facebook and Twitter made it easy to fire up readers and writers. I heard about it in a bar, for instance, several days after the review appeared. There’s no doubt it boosted an already promising writer’s career and profile, but re-reading the review now, it’s easy to see that Whitehead’s self-deprecation eases his scathing approach.