De gustibus non est disputandum: In matters of taste there can be no dispute.

But there are, aren’t there? Spirited discussions with friends, family and co-workers over the artistic excellence (or lack thereof) of a particular movie, record album or book.

As a writer this is especially problematic for us: We know that our art will not speak to all people but rather to our ideal or model reader. Having said that, however, how do you judge whether or not the failure of any given text you’ve composed is due to deficiencies in the reader or your own talent?

And if interrogated as to what you thought you were doing with any given text do you respond with as detailed and complete an explanation as possible, or smile Sphinx-like and refrain from commenting?

Umberto Eco advises the latter: “I think that a narrator, as well as a poet, should never provide interpretations of his own work. A text is a machine conceived for eliciting interpretations. When one has a text to question, it is irrelevant to ask the author. . . . The Model Reader of a story is not the Empirical Reader. The empirical reader is you, me, anyone, when we read a text. Empirical readers can read in many ways, and there is no law which tells them how to read, because they often use the text as a container for their own passions, which may come from outside the text, or which the text may arouse by chance.”

Well, that’s the easy way out, certainly. And yet some of the most fascinating writing I’ve ever read has been writers talking about and interpreting their own writing. Eco—quoted above—made his statement in a 1996 lecture (at The Italian Academy for Advanced Studies in America) while commenting on his own work.

So here’s the thing: How detailed a response do you give those reviewers of your work you feel have misread, misinterpreted or otherwise marginalized and maligned your text? Understand that I feel as most of you do: If you have to provide an explanation for your text the story has already failed. But with that particular reader or in toto? Writers as renowned, accomplished and different as Fitzgerald, Toni Morrison and Lovecraft all had their work attacked, misread and dismissed by divers critics at different times. If it happened to them it’s going to happen to you. How will you respond when it does?

Note: I’m not talking about criticism that you recognize as valid and correct or criticism that you’re unsure about. I refer here only to that criticism that you feel is unwarranted, unnecessarily proscriptive or otherwise questionable and problematic. Too heated and extended a response looks argumentative and self-defensive; a refusal to respond at all reads as seething anger and contempt; too casual and flippant a response and you come off sounding like a jerk.

Responding to your critics over this “third-category” kind of criticism is a very tricky business. And I think we all know why, don’t we? Your critic may be absolutely right and you dead wrong. 

Hello All,

    Well, let me start out by saying that communication via the written word is always a tricky thing.  What the writer sees as a frank statement can be viewed as venomous by the reader (especially if the reader is developing a wounded ego).  It almost makes one wish for telepathy (and isn’t that a scary thought!).

     But I don’t think Carl’s original question refers to harsh critiques, but those that seem way out there.  Unfortunately, the world is full of folks who misread (almost willfully at times) other people’s work.  Two examples that come to mind are not from the world of fiction writing.  A friend of mine had submitted a paper to a scientific journal.  It was a major opus, and he was coming up for a tenure decision, so very important to him.  I can still see the look on his face as I walked into his office – a mixture of sadness, disgust and anger.  He handed me the review (the paper had been rejected).  It started off: “As a mathematical model for the…..this paper fails utterly.”  I looked at him in disbelief. “Your paper has nothing to do with mathematical modeling.”  He shrugged and tossed the reviews into the wastebasket.  A bit closer to home – a few years ago I wrote a grant proposal to a federal agency requesting over $100,000 for some research equipment.  One of the reviewers angrily stated that the request should be rejected because he had acquired a similar piece of equipment a number of years before for a much lower price, so I must have been padding the request.  I had to assume that this fellow had never heard of inflation, but I did wonder if he thought that I had bribed or in some other way influenced the vendor in order to get an inflated price quote (since the letter from the company quoting the price was attached!). My point is simply that they are out there.

     Well okay, what do you do?  Years ago when I was young and stupid (now I’m no longer young) I once fired off an irate letter to an editor when I got what I felt to be a rather idiotic review (even now, years later I still think it was stupid).  What I learned was that this was totally counter productive – the editor and an assistant editor got angry at me.  So first of all – CALM DOWN.  Go for a walk.  Get drunk.  Eat a half-gallon of ice cream. Beat your cat (always an admirable endeavor).  Go back and read some glowing reviews your work has received.  Most important, do not respond.  Give yourself a few days – I’m sure you have more important things to do with your life.

     Now that a few days have passed, try to look at the review objectively.  If the reviewer has totally missed the point of your story examine their critique.  One problem I’ve noted with Book Country is that people take notes in the side boxes while reading – “at 33% your sentence makes no sense!”  they are multi-tasking which makes it easy to miss things (ask anyone who drives and texts – assuming they are still among the living). Good reviewers put a lot of time into a review (and there are a number of such on BC – you know who you are.  Thank you!)  I always read a story twice – the first time for the story and an overall evaluation, the 2nd time to make sure I did not miss something and to pick up fine details. 

     At this point you should be able to tell if the reviewer is thoughtful, or a quick skimmer.  If it appears that the reviewer has put time and effort into the review I will respond and try to open a dialogue. I might not reply point by point, maybe I’ll just ask a few questions, because I want to see if the reviewer is interested in a discussion. I see no point in investing a lot of time explaining myself if I’m not sure I’ll get a response, or if the reviewer will even read my response. If the reviewer appears to be a skimmer I will still respond, although not as thoroughly, because most times if you respond to a skimmer’s review, you will not get a response. However, I’m giving the person the benefit of the doubt, and truthfully, since they reviewed my work, it’s a way of saying ‘thank you’, which, no matter the review, is appropriate.  If a dialogue ensues – great!  Otherwise move on.

 Best wishes to all.   

           Tom

I have not had many reviews, but I respect the opinions expressed in every one of them. If I disagree with anything that has been said, it is only by a matter of degree. Carl has directed that this discussion should concern criticism that is disputed completely. I cannot speak to that. I am of two minds, both for and against, every point made.

In general, I think that there are very few criticisms without real validity. The trick is to distance yourself from your work, a difficult thing to do. Decide on what particular issues you are willing to work on, and you will be surprised at how the list of acceptable exploratory alterations grows.

If you ultimately decide to retain the original approach, you will at least have a sounder basis for defending it. In the end, you must be the one to talk yourself out of a problematic strategy. Embrace advice, make it your own, or else thank one and all for their kind input, and withdraw. And be willing to take the consequences, possibly producing a work of very limited appeal.

Therefore, reread all advice, again and again, until it looses its sting and you can consider it open-mindedly. This applies to comments you feel are wholly unwarranted as well as to those you are uncertain about. Only then will you be able to make decisions that are in your best interest.

How do you differentiate between legitimate further discussion and a knee-jerk reaction? Why do you feel the need to convert a doubter? Take the comments to heart and debate yourself. You’re the one who has to make the final decision. Do you feel that you have been misunderstood? So what? It’s going to happen.

You may have been understood all too well. Keep in mind that you may be wrong. Proceed with caution every time you lay hands on the keyboard. This stuff doesn't go away.

Hello Mimi,

    In your next to last paragraph you simply need to replace “discussion” with “conversation”.  The difference between knee-jerk and legitimate is depth.  If someone simply says, “That doesn’t work”, with no elaboration, I’ll ask them why.  If I get a response and it makes no logical sense to me I’ll tell them my feeling on the matter and we end up having a conversation.  I’ve had this happen a few times.  End result: you win some, you lose some.  It’s not a matter of conversion.  It’s a matter of learning.  I’ve been through some of these things with Carl on a couple of stories.  After a few go-rounds, either the writer or the critic admits to seeing the validity of the other’s point of view, or they agree to disagree.  No matter the outcome both have benefited through a fuller understanding of the other’s point of view. That could result in both a better writer and a better critic. 

    I guess in sum I’d say that I can’t consider an unwarranted comment open mindedly without a better understanding of the though behind that comment.

Tom

Thanks for checking in on this issue, Mimi!

Let me address the question you asked: "Why do you feel the need to convert a doubter?"

I don't think you can. Amongst other reasons (to re-iterate): They may be right and you wrong.

Having said that, however, one of the questions I posed to other writers like yourself was: "How detailed a reply do you give to your reviewer?" (Do you honor their work by matching energy-for-energy: a couple of sentences or paras for a couple of sentences or paras; pages of response for pages of critique? We all seem to be in agreement that less is more here.)

One of the dilemmas I wrestle with is this: How to respond to criticism you disagree with--or have a slightly different take on--without coming across as self-defensive. I'm always a little disappointed with those writers (involved in the workshop process) who never defend their choices or respond intelligently to their critics, especially when it concerns criticisms like: “You wrote this; I wish you had written that,” and “the artist’s role is to _________.” Simply saying “Thank you for the read and review” in these instances reads—to me—like either sarcasm or cowardice.

There is also this: Everyone can learn something from a spirited yet respectful give-and-take between the writer and his (or her) critic; further learning and understanding that can take place when authorial intent and aesthetic values are interrogated and deconstructed in full view of your peers. Oftentimes these kinds of discussions don’t lead to dualistic or simple binary yes/no, right/wrong outcomes and answers but rather to important, eternally-relevant and controversial further questions like: “What is the function and purpose of art? A text? Authorial persona?"

I feel cheated when I read terse responses from writers to critics on these issues and wanted to know how others feel and think about these same issues.  

Hello Mimi,

     I think we are all tormented by the real world (my day job kept me off BC for a few weeks recently).  The important thing is just to say: “Thanks for the review, I really want to think about it when I have time.”  Or some such.  A good reviewer just wants to help.  Take your time.  They’ll understand.  I know I would rather wait a few weeks for a detailed response to a review (especially after putting the requisite time into it) then get something fired off in the heat, or exhaustion, of the moment.  It just helps to know that the review was appreciated. That makes you try even harder to help.

Tom     

Mimi: see, this is exactly what I mean. You should have said that so your reviewer could counter-counter argue and the discussion continue. (Of course, at some point one of the two parties is going to check out. There’s only so much time one can devote to this kind of stuff, after all—and one of the reasons Harlan Ellison flatly refuses to engage with his readers in this manner. If you’re not careful all of your creative energy gets exhausted by interminable discussion and argument. But until that point is reached by either party . . .)

I'd hoped to keep this a more general discussion thread but that's okay; since you brought it up I'll comment further on your story-in-progress. But not directly, obliquely (at first). I know a very successful pulp fiction writer whom I shall not identify by name (if he chooses to identify himself and jump in here, fine; but I’m not going to out him) who turned in his first novel with page-after-page of densely foot-noted and recondite world-building background detail in every chapter. You read that right—extensive foot notes interrupting and expounding on the narrative in his fast-paced novel. So how did that turn out? He tells the tale himself in his trademark rueful, wry manner: (paraphrased, obviously, since I’m not he): “Yeah, so I says to my agent, ‘What do you think?’ He fixes me with an unblinking stare and says, ‘You’re insane. This can’t be published like this; not as a first novel in this genre.’ ” And it wasn’t. (But all of that background material was vital and useful; it allowed him to write that novel and many others that would follow.)

The novel is one thing; your world history is another. I agree with Atthys and others in this instance: Your novel doesn’t work as engaging novelistic narrative because it’s 80% history lesson and only 20% experiential imagining.

That doesn’t make us right. That makes us opinionated. (And hopefully we’ve provided some cogent and convincing reasons along with cited references to your own text to buttress our arguments). But you should feel free to object as strongly and vociferously as you like, so long as you don’t engage in ad hominem attacks, non sequiturs or frantic hand-waving to distract from focused discussion of relevant matters.

I'm afraid I've given the 'thank you for your time!' response more than once. I mean every word of it, because I take every response seriously and add it to the pot when brewing up my revisions. That still doesn't make it come off any less flippantly.

In my case the habit started from the need to do respond to a few negative reviews on published work. I'd been informed of the reviews by the review site coordinator, and asked to comment on them. They were both fairly short, and both had the same type of negative comment: there wasn't enough world building. In one case the work reviewed was a short (3K words) Urban Fantasy, in the other case it was a short-ish novella (12K words). The short received a comment that I didn't explain a great deal of the magical system, the novella  got a comment that I didn't explicitly state the date.

At that point, since there weren't really any other comments, and my only real counter-comment would be an argumentative sounding 'I didn't want to bog the story down with exposition', I replied with a simplistic 'Thank you for taking the time to review my work; if you or any of your readers have any questions for me, I'd be glad to answer them.'

No questions were forthcoming, so...

At any rate, I tend to put critiques of WIPs in four categories.
1) Positive - these are great, but usually useless except as morale boosters.
2) Hypernegative / personal - these wander into name calling and such. Again, useless.
3)Negative / logical - These are the useful gems, the ones that call out every mistake.
4)Negative / wha?? - These are the ones I think you're talking about. The ones that make you say 'did he read *my* book'? These often take a bit more interpretation, but they show you a lot more about the book. Especially if you have a problem with being too obscure *cough*like me*cough*.

I'd say reply concisely to any critique, with one to three pertinent questions about the critique itself. Even on a good critique, you might ask 'was there any part you liked particularly? Any part you didn't like? Anything thqat I shouldn't change no matter what?

That will either start a conversation, or not.  If not, you don't use a lot of writing oomph on it. Just my 2c, YMMV. But then, that goes for all critiques.

No, you didn't get "too crazy" here; [based on what you've said] you were honest in your response to criticism that swerved into personal attack territory. If anything I admire the fact that you endeavored to take something constructive away from a personal attack piece; that shows real emotional maturity and professional judgment on your part. Thank you for sharing your experience with us, Samantha.

Granted, this thread is primarily about cogent, thought-provoking criticisms you receive from intelligent writers but I’m glad you checked in nonetheless; it’s good to see new faces and hear from new voices!

 Here's the thing: A good reviewer should never, ever say things like: “This shows you have no talent,” or “I believe you're not a writer.”

For one thing writing is an active process, not an accolade: you do it, and in the act of writing one becomes a writer. Period, the end. Simple and irrevocable and irrefutable as that—whether your enemies and harshest critics (oftentimes “friends” and family, eh?—they’re the ones who can hurt us the most) like it or not. Secondly, writing mechanics can be improved and polished over time. Everyone started somewhere and improved from their baseline. In fact, I would argue that it's impossible not to improve. (Here's a good self-test that should encourage you: Have you gone back and re-read older texts that you flinch from due to grammatical and syntactical flats and sharps committed in the writing as well as narrative clumsiness and/or inexactness of description and over-all muddiness of tone? Good! That means you improved since then and are continually improving; you’ve improved enough to be able to look back now and understand what you did wrong and should be able to appreciate just how far you’ve come.)

PS. Every 2-3 years I do a complete overhaul and re-write of my existing stories. I can’t help myself; as time passes I see all the myriad ways I can improve on the originals. When the time comes that I can’t see a way to improve a story I’ll know that I’m done; it’s time to stop writing. There is no stasis in nature: You are either improving every day or you’re experiencing accelerated senescence and early senility. So keep writing! (And what’s more important, keep reading.) Don’t let anyone ever take that away from you or in any way diminish your enthusiasm and passion for reading and writing.

PPS. Wouldn’t it be fun, at least once—albeit in a very sophomoric, knee-jerk infantile way—to respond to your un-intelligent critic the same way they wrote at [sic] you: “You know, I don’t think you’ve enough talent or experience to be a reviewer . . .” Heh!