A Few Ways of Looking at a Book Review

I'm pretty sure I would find much with which to disagree in Jane Smiley's new book, Thirteen Ways of Looking at the Novel. I found her argument a few years ago about the superiority of Uncle Tom's Cabin to The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, for example, to be wholly unconvincing. However, Ellen Heltzel's review of the book is a little hard to take.

Athough she allows that Thirteen Ways "is hardly without merits," Heltzel's ultimate judgment is that "in its long and discursive form, [it] lacks pep and the intellectual rigor that could have made it exceptional."

Huh? It lacks both "pep" and "intellectual rigor"? Isn't the presence of the former usually at the expense of the other? Is this just a careless way of dismissing a book the reviewer didn't like, or is she arguing that a book with "intellectual rigor" might also be peppy? It's hard to conclude that Heltzel really thinks the book lacks rigor, since elsewhere she calls it "dry," "a book that contains lots of information," and one that reflects "a highly refined taste, not a welcome to all comers." That it is "long and discursive" itself suggests that Heltzel's problem with the book is that it has too much "intellectual rigor" rather than otherwise.

A little later Heltzel paraphrases Smiley's argument that "novels themselves don't send readers to the ramparts. . .but they create the psychological conditions that do," and then comments that "her reasoning seems less convincing than insular. What of Beethoven and Wagner, not to mention Edward Albee and Arthur Miller? Has Smiley spent too much time at the English department water cooler?"

Once more: Huh? When did Beethoven or Edward Albee ever send people "to the ramparts"? How did I miss that? How is it insular to suggest that it is the role of serious fiction first to be art rather than rabble-rousing? And even though the work of Wagner has been used for (unforeseen) political purposes and Miller's plays are often politically engaged, how much real political change ensues from a performance of a Wagner opera or of The Crucible?

Heltzel voices what seems to be her true objection to Smiley's book at the very end of the review:

. . .Thoughtful and informed, her responses are studied, not impassioned.

Here again, the teacher in Smiley trumps the advocate. "Thirteen Ways" is definitely a book that appeals to the mind, not the heart.

One would think that Heltzel might have concluded simply from the book's title that this is precisely a book resulting from "study" rather than "passion." I can't really see that it is a flaw in the book she has actually written that "the teaher in Smiley trumps the advocate." There are times when a "teacherly" book--that is a work of serious literary criticism--is preferable to a polemic. (And vice-versa: Why can't we have both?) And what can it mean to admit that Thirteen Ways of Looking at the Novel is "thoughtful and informed," but to then condemn it because it "appeals to the mind, not the heart"? Is reading fiction only an exercise in emotional outpouring? Is there no room for contemplative literary criticism? Is there any other kind?

Comments

[Robert Nagle]

Your remarks are fine and fun, but did you read the book?

A lot of times a reviewer may use language and general statements that by themselves seem weak logically when taken in isolation. They are more descriptive of a critic's reaction than an attempt to make a definitive counterthesis.

The paradox of course is that people who read book reviews haven't read a particular book and don't intend to. So how can readers really know the extent to which her ambivalence (which you might call it "inconsistency" ) is justified? The best that a reviewer of book-length essay can do is to throw up a few main theses and try to gun down one or two of them.

One sentence jumped out at me: "Still, her own dissection — and the novels she writes about in her book — reflect a highly refined taste, not a welcome to all comers." I think by definition those who are still readers these days (and interested in fiction like Smiley) don't require warnings about "refined taste."

This goes back to a long-held belief that I'd much rather read a long wildly enthusiastic book review to one that is lukewarm or short because of space limitations. Less-than-enthusiastic reviews tend to be shorter, less inclined to delve into deeper issues.

BTW, one of my favorite meditations on the novel is Kundera's Art of the Novel.

[Dan Green]

Even after I did read the book and I did, let's say, agree with Heltzel that it was "studied, not impassioned," this would mean only that it's. . .studied, not impassioned. This is merely descriptive terminology,not, as Hertzel seems to be believe, an evaluative judgment. Her use of it merely signals to certain readers that Smiley is writing "intellectual" literary criticism, and everyone knows this is just pointy-headedness.

[Robert Nagle]

Recently picked up Smiley's book. Although I haven't finished Smiley's books, I have ended up enjoying it a lot more than I expected to (I only browsed through the sections on the 100 novels). It is an idiosyncratic and personal approach to the subject, and not without insights and interesting assertions. I did not find it very academic or "pointy-headed" at all.

"lacks pep"...what a statement.