You may or may not have noticed that Zadie Smith (I assume it is the real “her”) has commented on my post about On Beauty below. My immediate thought on reading it was “Bloody hell, Zadie Smith, who writes real books that people around the world read and admire, just read something that *I* wrote”! I was flattered, excited, embarressed. My second thought was rather less buoyant and altogether less self-congratulatory: Zadie wasn’t happy. In fact, my post had made her unhappy, so unhappy as to illicit a hurt, probably spur-of-the-moment, response. Thinking about it I’m not surprised. I disliked her novel and, with characteristic lack of critical tact, I said so. Nevertheless, it put me into a bit of an emotional spin: had I done a terrible wrong by speaking my mind about On Beauty so strongly? Was I being unfair or hurtful?
Now its perfectly true that never in my wildest imaginings did I think the author was going to read my piece; I thought a few dozen book-bloggers and googlers might stumble upon it at one time or another. This, however, shouldn’t be any excuse (especially since Zadie Smith isn’t the first author to respond to an Alexandria post). As it happens, having mused upon it for a few days now, I don’t think I need excuse; I certainly wouldn't dream of recanting.
I’ve often heard it said that a citizen’s democratic duty is to question its government and to speak out when said government looses its way (that way, inevitably, being subjective). As I see it this is also a reviewer’s duty: to engage with the written word thoughtfully at a visceral level, to question its values and its purposes, and then to *write* back. Sometimes writing back involves sharp opinions and sharp words. No doubt it involves being critical and, certainly, it always involves being honest. Because if you’re not honest you risk your aesthetic integrity; if you gush indiscriminately then you deny your faculties of discernment. These faculties are the most important that I have as a reader and I mean to use them. I don’t deny being a prejudiced creature with my own peculiar tastes and passions, nor do I lay claim to especial qualifications for promulgating opinions. I’m not a Professor of Literature (although half my undergrad degree was in English) and I’m not a reviewer for the national or international press (unless you count Emerald City, which, seeing as I review for them, I’m apt to do). I’m just a young woman, reading.
And it seems to me that when a writer sets out to offer their vision to the world, especially when they have had phenomenal success and international acclaim in the past, they should be prepared for anything. They should be prepared for it to be tested and questioned and galvanised and *forced*, to be criticised and lauded and even publicly mauled. They set a text free into the world and it became it’s own entity. It has to stand up for itself and if, on its own merits, it doesn’t win every battle for hearts and minds, that’s only natural. It is my prerogative to say that neither my heart nor mind was won, and, further, it is imperative I explain why. That is what I did and I stand by it.
Now it seems true that Zadie’s comment was directed, in its details, at Jay’s comment directly above it (the contents of which I don’t have any real problems with either, it being neither personal nor slanderous to say what you think of someone’s literary work). But I want to straighten out a couple of things. First, I did like Zadie Smith’s first novel White Teeth and I said as much in my review; my dislike of On Beauty doesn't stem from a distaste for her entire oeuvre but from that novel’s particular failings (as I see them). It seems an important distinction to make. I would never want to be thought of as slating an *individual*; the novel is the only thing under analysis. Second, the refutation of ever claiming to be the great hope of the contemporary British novel – whether Zadie herself characterised herself thus or not, she made us believe it with White Teeth. The incredible precocious promise of that novel led me to expect certain things from On Beauty and to feel disappointed when it didn’t deliver. Isn’t it natural to say so?
Finally, I don’t ever mean my writing to be a rebuke to an author. Rather it’s an encouragement: I want novels that I can love and admire to be published by novelists writing at the top of their field. I want to be energised by my reading. If we don’t write back with all our energy how will they, the novelists and the future novelists, know what we’re looking for?
~~Victoria~~