The Art of Reviewing
What makes a good book review?
‘So, perhaps, Substack is the new literary magazine? …Let’s talk about this!’
‘Last Dance’ on Inner Life
‘To read a book well, one should read it as if one were writing it. Begin not by sitting on the bench among the judges but by standing in the dock with the criminal. Be his fellow worker, become his accomplice.’ (Virginia Woolf, ‘How Should One Read a Book?’ The Yale Review, Autumn 1926)
Becoming a reviewer
In the hazy, far-off days before Substack, my background was in academic research and teaching French and English literature. I wrote a book on the art criticism of French poet-critic Charles Baudelaire, followed by a chapter on how Alfred Tennyson’s poetry was translated and reviewed in France. I knew my way around a footnote and could have passed an exam in the MHRA Style Guide with ease.
Then I had a change of gear, and decided to study for a Master’s degree in Creative Writing at the University of East Anglia in Norwich. My course specialized in biography, memoir and creative nonfiction, and introduced me to very different types of non-fiction books – thoroughly researched and well written, but intended for the general reader rather than for the professional academic, so without all the apparatus of references on every page.
I approached the Times Literary Supplement (TLS) with a few suggestions about recent books I wanted to review, and was delighted when they said yes.
What makes a good book review?
When the novelist Claire Messud reviews books for the New York Review of Books, she tries not to ask herself the question, ‘Do I like it?’, but rather ‘What is it? And what is it trying to do?’ She’s grateful for any review of her own novels that seeks to engage with what she’s doing as a writer. ‘I might feel wounded or sad if the reviewer doesn’t feel I did what I set out to do, but as long as they’re trying to understand what I set out to do, then that feels like a gift.’
I’ve now reviewed over 50 books for the TLS and I try to keep her words in mind when reading a book I’ve been asked to review. Inevitably there are some books that, when I start reading them, give me a sinking feeling (oh no, why on earth did I agree to this?) while others make me want to cheer from the rooftops. Either way, you can’t write eight hundred words by saying how much you like or dislike it.
So it’s important for me to think about the author’s prose style, tone, structure and research (all those things that authors sweat over) as well as what it’s about and roughly where this book fits. What has already been written on this subject? Is this book saying something new, or in an original way?
A lively response
Auberon Waugh advised book reviewers: ‘not to ask whether you approve of a book or think it good but to allow yourself to react to it, even if only with exasperation. The key quality in reviewing is… liveliness of response.’
I enjoy a review that’s well written and entertaining, makes points clearly and confidently, and gives me an insight into the book and why it’s worth reading (or not). You are not doing the reader a service if you are too bland and polite; it’s better to get to the point straightaway, and have a voice of your own.
But I really don’t enjoy it when reviewers are dismissive or insulting, or try to be too clever by half (Auberon Waugh, I’m looking at you). I’d rather be generous, think about what the author is trying to do, and whether or not the book succeeds on those terms.
Amusing, poetic and impassioned
In 1851 Charles Baudelaire said that the best sort of criticism (whether of art, music, theatre or literature) is ‘amusing, poetic and impassioned’, and driven by a desire to understand the work you’re reviewing. To represent a work well, he says, you need to get inside its skin. (This expression had recently been created by an actor explaining his technique for conveying characters.)
So much for the theory. On a more practical level, I try to read a book with a few of my own questions in mind, using colourful sticky notes, underlining good sentences in pencil, and scribbling my thoughts and impressions in a notebook as I go along. Then I put the book aside, to let my thoughts marinade. After a day or two I jot down the six or seven things that seem to me to be the most interesting aspects of the book and I work out how to connect and develop my points.
Then it’s down to the nitty-gritty of writing. Usually it’s good to have a strong starting point, and come back to it in some form towards the end, so that the thread of your narrative pulls the reader through. As the restaurant critic Jay Rayner once said, it’s not the description of the food that matters but ‘what is the story - and how can I prevent my reader from turning the page to the gardening column?’
Ann Kennedy Smith is an author, freelance writer and literary critic. Her Substack is Cambridge Ladies’ Dining Society.
I remember those Auberon Waugh reviews! They could be fun, but also cruel. In particular I still recall his apoplectic reaction to the TV adaptation of his father's novel Brideshead Revisited.
The book reviews I enjoy most teach me about the subject rather than simply talk about the book. The best reviews in the London Review of Books and New York Review of Books do that superbly.
Such a good explanation, Ann. To build on your quote, I quote Auden who said in _The Dyer's Hand_, "Here is a verbal contraption. How does it work?” and this: “[. . .] What kind of guy inhabits this poem?"