Book Reviewer Gets $75,000 Dress Down

Like debates on the Middle East and herpes on campus, in book reviewing, the same crap tends to get perpetuated by the same people, and we all limp away feeling itchy and unresolved.

Over the last couple of days, I've been chatting with a non-literary friend about the nature of book reviews and become increasingly more depressed. "What, you mean an author like Atwood would get more reviews than a new writer?" she asked, in all her reasonable and blissful unknowing.

It is not breaking news that established writers are often treated with kid gloves (see any review of Philip Roth's last few books which generally emphasize how amazing it is that such an old guy can still hold a pen) and critics wait with bated breath to massacre the sophomoric efforts of successful first-novelists.

In Canada, I can often count on Globe & Mail book reviews to read like fan mail written by a starstruck 16-year-old. This past Saturday, Alison Pick's review of Jane Urquhart's edited collection of Canadian short stories should have had its i's dotted with hearts and come lightly scented with Love's Babysoft. This is the opening paragraph:

Reading The Penguin Book of Canadian Short Stories reminded me of several facts. For one, Alistair MacLeod is a god. For two, Margaret Atwood is entirely deserving of her position as the Head Camp Counsellor of Canadian Fiction. The book also served a corrective function: Mavis Gallant - whom I confess to having thought of as boring - is a literary angel of the very highest order.

(Alison is presently standing outside the side doors, binders clutched to chest, waiting to 'accidentally' bump into Ondaatje, Principal of Prosaic.)

However, the love-fest was interrupted the week earlier when an angry suitor jumped into the pile of bodies. Louise Dennys, executive publisher at Knopf, took out a full-page ad attacking Peter C. Newman's review of Jean Chretien's memoir, My Years as Prime Minister.

This ad would have cost the house $75,000 and like all attempts to shoot a mosquito with a shotgun, drew way more negative attention to the situation than the original nuisance.

Instead of approaching the bad review as a point of entry into a critical dialogue on the nature of the book review (and/or what constitutes a well-written one), Dennys whined about Newman's comments, stating in the ad, “Mr. Newman’s review was a lazy piece of work."

Actually, spending $75,000 (that could have been used as advances for at least, uh, 75 new writers) on a public pout-fest is lazy.

And while Newman responded, "I am always proud of publishers who defend their authors," I think the whole thing is embarrassing. It also sets a nasty precedent since reviewers are typically fiction and non-fiction writers who must remain in publishers' good books.

Looks like Newman may be left toeing the playground on his own while Alison Pick and the other followers get to chill with the big kids.