I want to write about how to do deal with lack of criticism rather than ordinary straightforward criticism. The sort of stuff which starts: ‘I should prefer to read the back of a cornflakes packet or the instructions on a toilet cleaner than another word written by that author’ is simply like water off a duck’s back. The critic has clearly no taste, has not read the book, probably steals Red Cross boxes and is absolutely lacking in judgement. Or is he? (or she?).

Nor is there much mileage in writing about professional literary critics, of course. To have a critic actually review your book in a newspaper is a luxury that few can expect. Critics are inundated with books and how they choose which to read remains a mystery. Is it the cover? Or do they choose books written by their friends, who would generally be fellow journalists? There a quite a few of such books since all journalists have a book inside them which should not be let out, but often enough the lock on the cage breaks. Then we hear that this is one of the greatest books of the decade, the finest first novel that has ever seen the light of day etc. In fact the number of greatest novels, especially first novels, written reminds me of the pieces of the True Cross – enough to build an armada. In the same way, there are enough greatest novels to fill the ghastly tower of the University Library at Cambridge.

But what about lack of criticism? What should you think when all your friends – who are the only people who are polite enough even to pretend that they have read your book – tell you that you are wonderfully imaginative, powerfully poetic, richly romantic and generally the best thing since sliced bread? When they compare you to Dante, Dickens, Hardy and James Joyce, do you respond ‘Oh! Why drag them
in’? When they say, you will be remembered when Shakespeare is forgotten’, do you add under your breath, ‘but not until then’? Do you maintain the right degree of detachment? Are you self critical enough to reject these eulogies? It’s difficult, isn’t it? Just for a moment (brief, I hope) you indulge in a dream of your literary brilliance.

The question is not whether you are a good writer but how you can become a better writer. You need to get criticised. In the world of science, where I work, we send off our work for publication to some journal with a resounding name such as the Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society and then the editor sends our stuff to critics (we call them referees). They are usually anonymous. Then we get our work back with a letter which states ‘We have the pleasure to inform you….’ which means the critics like it or ‘We will reconsider this work if…’ which means the critics have found that you have multiplied 2 by 2 and got 5 – but this is close enough to 4 for them to want to have another look.

Or if it’s really bad (and no scientist will ever really admit that this has happened to them), ‘This work is not suitable for publication’ meaning at all, anywhere, ever – or to sugar the pill, sometimes the editor may have added ‘in this journal’. Wouldn’t it be great if we could have a system like this for writers? Why aren’t there a whole lot of places where we could send off our work and be sure that it went out to knowledgeable people who might actually read it, criticise it and suggest how we might improve it? These people are not publishers because they do not perform this role. Perhaps we should all agree to read each other’s writing and send back a referee’s report?

(Originally published at GoArticles and reprinted with permission from the author, David Field).