What I Wish I’d Known is a regular series where we ask some of our favourite people in the book industry to reflect on their careers. In this instalment, critics share some of the unexpected and useful things they’ve learned along the way about writing reviews.
Top row, left to right: Tiia Kelly, Joseph Earp, Vyshnavee Wijekumar, Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen, James Ley, Declan Fry and Jessie Tu. Middle row: Mindy Gill and Quincy Malesovas. Bottom row, left to right: James Jiang, Susie Anderson, Sam Twyford-Moore, Will Cox and Amelia Zhou.
Susie Anderson – arts critic / poet, The Body Country
I think we make sense of ourselves and the world through art, books, film and culture, and I love to write about all those things. The way I begin writing is in a flurry of passion about a subject matter, and through the second, third and fourth writing stages, tamping it down into the editing stage, without worry about how my ‘take’ will be perceived. Ultimately, I want to keep that spark alive and create a really good piece of writing to convey what’s at the heart of the thing. Whether it’ll sizzle up quickly or slowly keep burning is something I’ll work out in the process.
What I wish I’d known about reviewing is how to back myself. Sometimes I forget I have experience and the credentials to say what I think, even though I’ve worked alongside and interviewed many different peers and colleagues in visual arts and literary industries, both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal. This year I’ve had some great chats with Jeanine Leane and Neika Lehman about ‘cultural rigour’ in reviews, and after reading Daniel Browning’s book Close to the Subject, I’ve had even more to think about how we write critically in a way that contributes to cultural life more broadly. I think reviewers can offer a crucial contribution to the value of arts and culture in Australia, and we need to know that there’s enough room for all of us and our opinions, without our input being a moral indictment or takedown. More than ever it’s important for us to raise our multiplicity of voices to continue to diversify the status quo.
Will Cox – arts critic / film reviewer, Primal Screen / author, Hyacinth
Reviewing is hard. Look, film-bro stuff out of the way first: I’ve seen a lot of films and I have a lot of opinions on them. Is that interesting? No. There’s nothing worse than a man telling you how many films he’s seen, namedropping directors and saying the film you liked is, from his perspective as a professional opinion-haver (a man), no good. Your opinion on whether you liked a film or not isn’t necessarily interesting, or even the most important part of a review.
Recently, I was on the radio giving a scathing review of superhero blockbuster Deadpool & Wolverine (it was shit), followed by a positive review of independent Mexican drama Totem (liked it). That was a hard balance to strike. The elements of snobbery were all there. I hate the biggest film in the world, and I love the obscure foreign drama about grief and family bonds. Burgers bad, steak tartare good. No one is going to trust that extremely film-bro binary. You have to curb your absolutes, show your working and articulate the positive as well as the negative. ‘It was shit’ on its own isn’t a helpful position. You have to meet the film partway and discuss its merits at least partially based on its intent, audience and context. It’s about respecting the audience. But you also have to be entertaining, and at some point bring it back to the essential truth: Deadpool & Wolverine was shit.
Joseph Earp – film and music critic / author, Cattle
I think the best reviewers show us that branding something ‘good’ or ‘bad’ is a faulty approach. I don’t know how much we gain from a thumbs up or a thumbs down, but I think we gain a lot from seeing a reviewer explain work in a way that also explains who they are, free from mere designations of quality. All beautiful writing is tender communication from one to another. Reviews are no different.
Declan Fry – literary critic / essayist / poet
Criticism says, I am because you are. Criticism hopes it can have a conversation with the work. Criticism says you can listen in on this conversation. Criticism says the best writing does not police itself or presume in advance of its composition what sort of beast it needs to become. Criticism says, so be monstrous. Criticism reads the work carefully and closely, sometimes rapturously (rapturous—in the sense of abduction or seizure). Criticism says you have a debt with the author and the author has a debt with you. Criticism says this may not be a debt either of you are happy about. (Criticism also says this may be a debt of gratitude.) Criticism says this author began reviewing because they were already in conversation with the work they encountered; they felt, well, criticism is just a publicly staged version of that conversation. Criticism says this internal conversation makes criticism akin to poetry, fiction, essay, whatever a person experiences as an inner dialogue they then wish to give voice to. Criticism says you can play at being the authority. Criticism says it will do wonders for your vanity. (Especially since—as criticism often reminds you—writing fiction, you rarely feel like an authority in anything.) Criticism says this vanity can be humbling: like translation, it serves another work, while being a work of its own. Criticism says you don’t need to spend too much time reiterating what the publicists for a book have already said about it. Criticism asks you to say something more than the work says for itself, perhaps something the work does not want to say or needs help saying. Criticism says that, like all artistic creation, your responsibilities begin and end with everything that may happen before publication and nothing afterwards; once the work is out in the world, it goes its own way. Criticism says, thank god you came, we were just talking about you. Criticism says, I have nothing to say about criticism—because criticism speaks for itself.
Mindy Gill – literary critic / poet
To write a good review, the critic must leave her ego and vanity at the door. The fear of being disliked—by author, audience or even editor—must be dealt with off the page. The same goes for her pursuit of admiration. The critic’s primary responsibility is to the text itself: engaging with the book on its own terms, as it is, rather than as the critic wishes it to be. A meaningful review should reveal a depth of engagement with the book, which requires a degree of intellectual risk and some guts, especially in a critical culture often stifled by politeness. This brings me to the secondary responsibility, which is to the literary culture—and I’m referring specifically, in my own case, to Australian literary culture. Because what I wish I’d known most of all is that the vitality of our literary ecosystem depends on our robust engagement with it. As writers, readers and critics, we must approach our national literature with the intellectual rigour it deserves. If we don’t, who will?
James Jiang – literary critic / editor of Sydney Review of Books
As someone who stumbled their way into publishing out of academia, I didn’t have too many preconceptions about reviewing, except that it was somehow connected to the work I did as a literary scholar. There’s a kind of innocence involved in writing mostly about the dead and for a coterie of specialists that rubs uncomfortably against the worldliness of taking on a ‘live’ subject and broadcasting one’s convictions and shortcomings to a much larger audience. Whether or not this is liable to make one’s reviews more rigorous (because more answerable) is a question I’ll leave on the table.
What typically gets heralded as a ‘good review’ is one that pronounces a judgement (often negative) with vehemence. Courage and candour are not negligible virtues, but this emphasis on critical temper tends to collapse provisional acts of attention into the finality of an instinctive gesture. Yet accurate and vivid description is often more persuasive than outright evaluation. In the words of William James, ‘to conceive with passion is ipso facto [to] affirm’—a lesson for not only critics but anyone involved in the ‘selling’ of books.
Tiia Kelly – film critic / writer / editor, Rough Cut
I began reviewing films with a creative writing background rather than arts journalism, and it was a relief to realise you don’t always need to approach a review from some broad, authoritative perspective, and certainly not with grand, publicity-friendly statements. Close, thoughtful analysis, idiosyncratic language and uniquely researched angles can make reviews into exciting, worthy pieces of literature in their own right while combating the flattening of art into mere ‘content’. However, not every publication will necessarily be the right fit for your style of criticism—seek out those that are.
With films, unless you have a digital screening link, reviewing often means writing towards the version of the work that exists in your memory and across your notes. You’re always reshaping the work as you write, but this can make for a wonderful conversation with a work, its creators and/or its context (even other reviewers!) beyond pure evaluation.
It’s important to review generously, but never make concessions about what you think makes a piece of art worthwhile. Have a strong historical foundation in your chosen artform but be open to new innovations. With dwindling arts coverage in Australia, critics rarely get taken very seriously, so you might as well write exactly what you think.
James Ley – literary critic / deputy books & ideas editor, The Conversation
Even if you think a book is terrible and stupid, you are obligated to take it seriously. That’s the job. Always address the book on its own terms. A book can be about anything; there are no invalid subjects. Grant the author their central idea; accept their chosen focus and the limits they have set for themselves and proceed from there. Focus on what the author is saying, not who they are or what you think they represent. The book sets the parameters of legitimate criticism.
Try to give an interpretation of the book. Make an argument about what you think it means and why you think it might be significant (or not). Use your argument to convey your opinion of the book, rather than superlatives or pejorative language. Be stingy with praise. Never gush. If a book is any good, its worth will become evident if you respond to it calmly and intelligently. Your criticism will carry no weight unless you have demonstrated that you have understood what the book is trying to do. This is particularly important if you want to say that it is not very good. The deadliest criticism is accurate criticism. Do not be afraid to say what you think. Say it as clearly as you can. If you have a valid point to make and you make it well, it will be noted. You will find that people appreciate good critical writing.
Writing to a deadline with a strict word limit is good discipline: embrace it. The formal constraint will teach you to zero in on what is essential about a book and what contextualising information is necessary. Try to make your review an entertaining and substantial piece of writing in itself. Jokes and zingers are fine (welcome, even), but make sure they are justified and well aimed—otherwise, you will sound snide and juvenile.
If you write a negative review, the author’s friends and maybe even the author might slag you off for a while on social media. Ignore them. It will blow over and your review will stand. If you strongly criticise a book, the author will almost certainly hate you for a while, and possibly forever. That is their problem. The audience for your review is everyone except the author. Many authors are sensible people who understand that a healthy literary culture is one where books are read and discussed and argued about and treated as serious intellectual endeavours. Many authors can be surprisingly forgiving.
Quincy Malesovas – food critic / journalist
When I started my food writing career in Australia, critical reviews were a dying art. Thanks largely to social media, there’s now far more focus on personal perspective versus that of a publication or entity. In a media landscape where everyone has a personal brand, the review has come back strong as a way to follow those whose opinions you respect. But it’s always important to take the message with a grain of salt.
Hospitality is a vulnerable industry and bad reviews can be fatal. Just because one person perceives something as bad doesn’t mean it inherently is—they just may not be the target audience. I’d like to see more reviews that consider a venue’s social and cultural context and try to find the good in it, whatever that may be.
Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen – arts and culture critic / journalist
I’ve always been obsessed with art, so perhaps becoming a critic was an inevitability. When I started out many years ago, I approached it in a binary way: Is this good or bad? Through consuming more art and criticism—and realising what is valuable for me as both a reader and writer—I’ve come to a different understanding. These days, for me, criticism is less about a simple value judgment and more about placing something into its cultural and social context: What does this say about the world we live in? How is it similar or different from other works of its kind? What does it draw from and in? I used to think the personal had no place in a review, but now I think it can strengthen it when done with intent, restraint and skill.
There is a tendency, especially in a scene as small as ours, to tread gently with reviews to avoid hurting people’s feelings or burning bridges. I don’t think this makes for a healthy or robust critical culture. There is a difference between being cruel and being constructively and rigorously critical. Finding that balance takes practice—but it’s utterly worthwhile.
Sam Twyford-Moore – film and cultural critic / essayist
I wish I had never written an anonymous book review for the Saturday Paper. It was a lowly practice. I felt guilty, snakish—and I only ever wrote one! There was an upside, however, as I did get to see a few good friends comment on my writing without knowing it was me who wrote it. They pretty much uniformly hated it, so that was eye-opening. The anonymity of those reviews, however, meant that they were dead ends in terms of dialogue.
There have long been thoughts around the etiquette of replying to your reviewers. I’m currently researching the life and work of a writer who responded to basically every single review of her books—and why not? The idea you must sit down and receive the criticisms silently, as if being visited upon by a stern headmaster, is constricting. If it is a book review worth the paper it’s printed on then the reviewer should be testing out your theories, creative or otherwise, and why end the thinking there? For the sake of the absolute sanctity of their qualitative judgement? No, speak back, and speak back often. That conversational trace will prove invaluable to future biographers and literary historians.
Jessie Tu – literary critic / co-host of Asian Bitches Down Under / author, The Honeyeater
You don’t have to sound like anyone else. You don’t have to use big words. You don’t have to try to sound smart or erudite or use complicated, fancy words you’ve found on thesaurus.com. You can write the way you speak. You can be conversational. You can say how you truly feel about a work of art. The most interesting writing is honest writing, I reckon, just like the most interesting conversations are between people who just say it how it is. I don’t understand the fear of being earnest or truthful in conversations. I don’t get it at all. There are so many ways miscommunication ends up wounding people unnecessarily—just say it like it is. Be courageous. I promise you if you think X, you are not the only one.
Vyshnavee Wijekumar – arts and culture critic
What I didn’t anticipate was the self-imposed pressure to continually publish work. For every pitch that you send out, only a fraction will be accepted by editors. Some pieces may never see the light of day unless you publish them on your own platform. I would often read the work of peers I admire and feel a sense of envy or inadequacy when I would see their reviews on art and artists I’m a fan of. I would wonder: Why not me? Why wasn’t I commissioned? Am I not good enough? As I continue to hone my literary and critical voice, I have come to the conclusion that the opportunities that don’t come your way weren’t meant to be yours in the first place. If you don’t get commissioned for that highly coveted review, or your pitch isn’t accepted, there might be another assignment you’ll love around the corner.
Be proud of your archive of published work as it continues to live on in the public space for others to engage with. Reread and reconnect with it—you might be surprised by your perspective at the time.
Amelia Zhou – literary critic / researcher / poet
I started writing reviews for news outlets and online magazines, initially as an intern, then later in a more freelance capacity. My first degree was in journalism, and what I learned about review writing—indeed, writing in general—continues to be influenced by that training. Familiarise yourself with publications you want to write for. Introduce yourself to the editor in a (short!) email and include a short pitch of what you want to write about. I used to be quite daunted by the idea of emailing people I didn’t know, but I’ve found most people to be receptive and responsive.
Besides reading other people’s reviews, it’s always a good idea to read more widely on the general subject you’re interested in reviewing. When I read reviews, I like to read how writers introduce their subject, the structure of the piece, and how different elements such as description, criticality, and personal voice are balanced and woven together. I’ve learned the most from reading other people’s work, especially in regard to developing my own critical voice and style. Finally, some publications might offer a free ticket or equivalent in lieu of proper payment. Say no. Always get paid for your work.
Extra reading:
- ‘What I Wish I’d Known About Reviews’ – authors on reviews
- ‘Whose Byline Is It Anyway?’ by Emmett Stinson
- ‘How Goodreads Is Changing Book Culture’ by Beth Driscoll
- ‘Why Culturally Aware Reviews Matter’ by Lisa Fuller
Keen to learn more about writing reviews? Explore our courses:
