Is Australia’s literary culture too nice? Too clubbish? Is our critical culture based too much on who you know, and not enough on what you know? Writer and lecturer Emmett Stinson argues that it is – and calls for more ‘partisans, contrarians and heretics’.
Jacob Silverman recently wrote an article for Slate attacking the ‘epidemic’ of ‘cloying niceness and blind enthusiasm’ in US book reviewing. For Silverman, criticism increasingly mimics the ‘literary Twitter- or blogospheres, [where] you’ll be positively besieged by amiability’. He calls them out for ‘creating an environment where writers are vaunted for their personal biographies or their online followings rather than for their work on the page’. The causes of this new sincerity are entirely self-interested: writers and publishers use social media for advertising and networking, and book reviewers face pressures to function as de facto publicists and ‘recommendation machines’ rather than critics.
To some degree, this situation is not so much new as it is newly open to public scrutiny. Social media makes visible the invidious networks of back-scratching and bootlicking that have always characterised the uneasy relationship between the publishing industry and literary journalism. Authors and publishers have always used indirect means to influence a book’s reception by ‘cultivating’ reviewers. I know many publishers who insist that taking certain book editors out to expensive lunches still results in better coverage.
But some critics have also misunderstood Silverman’s article as valorising negative reviews, which misses the point. Reviews can be nasty without being intelligent or critical. I’ve seen many haranguing reviews that simply misread the book in question. Worse, many negative reviews serve as a pretence for exorcising the reviewer’s personal literary demons. Nor are we really lacking for negative reviews – but we tend not to notice them because they are overwhelmingly directed at newer and less-established authors, which actually brings me to my larger point.
In the Australian context what I object to is not so much this spate of ‘niceness’ that Silverman identifies; sincerity is nothing more or less than a rhetorical method for convincing people of things, and its characteristic manoeuvre lies in the need to mask the awareness of its objectives even from itself. What worries me is not this enthusiasm, as such, but what it signifies: a set of self-invested and uncritical attitudes that result in a consensus-culture where certain authors, who have become the literary equivalent of sacred cows, are placed beyond reproach. This is already apparent in the shortlists for our literary awards, which resemble the output of some centralised shortlist-generating algorithm.
In 2012, the 42 possible shortlist spots for fiction across the Miles Franklin, the Prime Minister’s Literary Awards, the Western Premier’s Awards, the Age Book of the Year Awards, the Queensland Literary Awards, and the Victorian Premier’s Awards have been occupied by only 18 writers, who very much resemble the ‘usual suspects’. Aside from the obligatory nods to Peter Carey, Gail Jones, and Elliott Perlman there was enormous consistency across the lists: Anna Funder was nominated five times, Gillian Mears four times, and Janette Turner Hospital and Frank Moorhouse three times, as well as two nominations each for Kate Grenville and Alex Miller. Only a few nominated authors have not won major national or state-based awards already, like Wayne Macauley, Deborah Forster, Tony Birch, and, technically speaking, Geraldine Brooks (who has won a Pulitzer, of course).
What’s notable about these lists is what is missing: the only debut author was Favel Parrett, and virtually all of the titles were published either by large publishers or very well-established independent publishers. Authors of ‘genre’ works and collections of short stories were once again largely excluded. It is particularly depressing that, after all of the scrutiny placed on the gender imbalance of literary prizes last year (resulting in the establishment of the Stella Prize), these lists seem not only safe but downright staid. And more to the point, why do we want so many literary prizes in Australia that all basically look the same?
Some may want to argue that these authors make the shortlists because they are the best writers in Australia, but such a position doesn’t square with history, which shows that literary awards rarely stand the test of time. What do Carl Spitteler, Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson, Roger Martin du Gard, and Frans Eemil Sillanpää have in common? They all won the Nobel Prize for Literature. The list of authors who didn’t win the Nobel Prize is more impressive: James Joyce, Marcel Proust, Franz Kafka, Jorge Luis Borges, Leo Tolstoy, Henrik Ibsen, and Virginia Woolf are among the eligible authors never honoured by the Swedish Academy. In a rare consensus, the 1955 Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award both went to William Faulkner’s novel A Fable, now considered a minor work by a great author – but the year 1955 also saw the publication of Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita, J.P. Donleavy’s The Ginger Man, Flannery O’Connor’s A Good Man Is Hard to Find, and William Gaddis’s The Recognitions (my favourite book). History suggests that betting against the consensus has the better odds.
But, rather than suffering from tall-poppy syndrome, Australia’s contemporary cultural cringe seems to manifest in a repression of any critique and a consensus of unquestioning support for Australia’s ‘best’ writers; literary darlings like Cate Kennedy and Nam Le are universally praised, and rare criticisms of their work are met with opprobrium. When big names like Jonathan Franzen or Bret Easton Ellis come to visit, the universal response is unbridled excitement – as if we were still little more than a bunch of unwashed colonials lucky to receive these great authors from overseas. Among authors and industry types another less honourable thought circulates: think of all the networking opportunities! That these things are left unsaid is inevitable; as the philosopher Peter Sloterdijk has noted, ‘A milieu … is always also an alliance for the sake of jointly ignoring matters of fact that are obvious to those who are foreign to the milieu.’ But the problem with this literary consensus-culture is that it produces an anaemic and self-congratulatory provincialism as stifling as any cultural cringe.
The consensus-culture relegates books to the status of museum pieces: everyone agrees they are great, but they just sit there on an abstract plane removed from our daily lives, from our personal beliefs, or any value judgments about what matters or should matter. The consensus-culture signifies a notion of literature played out only in and among institutions – universities, prize committees, literary festivals – for whom actual readers are always only ‘stakeholders’ to be appeased. In the consensus-culture, the views of readers, writers and communities don’t really matter because literature is something that is handed down to us from above, mediated by a network of cultural elites and ‘literary insiders’ who have already made all of the important decisions about a book’s value. But a vital literary culture is not marked by the possession of a canon of universally acknowledged classics or by fiat through a UN designation. Australian literature should be embattled, passionately fought over, and contested because those – and not a tepid consensus governed by cultural elites – are the hallmarks of vitality and egalitarianism. Australian literature doesn’t need saving or preserving – what it needs are partisans, contrarians and heretics.
Emmett Stinson is a lecturer in Publishing and Communications at the University of Melbourne and president of SPUNC, the Small Press Network. His book of short stories, Known Unknowns, was shortlisted for the Steele Rudd Award in the 2011 Queensland Premier’s Literary Awards.
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Great piece, Emmett - Culture is not a club, nor literature a team sport.
Ed Wright
28 August at 01:11PM
Indeed, too cliquey & too chummy. i was saddened to hear some people on RN talking about the qld awards, the same uni lecturers and art bureaucrats talking who were talking some 20 years ago.
i was interested in the statistic that of 42 places, only 18 names came up. again the same voices saying the same things over & over again.
anyway you have inspired me to stay the course with my particular POV, and i will work harder on being a gadfly.
long live the heterodoxy!
metaboleus
28 August at 01:28PM
Nice piece Emmett. It's also a reason I dislike Writers' Festivals. I once worked in the industry and kept seeing publishers becoming good mates with their authors which made me wonder whether it's possible for them to remain impartial.
Leia
28 August at 02:32PM
Publishers aren't really meant to be 'impartial' regarding their authors, are they? They're not competition judges after all.
28 August at 02:45PM
There is a self-satisfied and simplistic tone to this piece, which is irritating.
I think 18 writers across 42 places is not actually that narrow. What would be acceptable to you? 42 different books? 20? What's the magic number? Australia is a small population and it sustains a diverse range of fiction publishing. I do not accept there is a 'tepid acceptance'. The prizes you choose to provide your stats are only some of the many prizes in this country, many of whom are won by other authors. In addition, there is nothing 'obligatory' about the shortlistings of Carey, Jones or Perlman. They are all writers who have not won and not been shortlisted for many other awards with other books.
Are you averse to the idea of respect? There is nothing inherently productive or positive about being contrary for the sake of it. And, please, if you want to comment about prizes, don't bring up the old look-at-who-never-won-the-Nobel argument. It's been done to death.
hi emmett
28 August at 02:48PM
typo in above:
...many of which are won...
hi emmett
28 August at 02:51PM
Leia, who 'once worked in the industry', there is nothing wrong with publishers 'becoming good mates' with their authors. What a bizarre thing to criticize. They're all human beings, after all. Perhaps if you'd worked in the industry a little longer you'd know publishers are bound to be both critical and supportive.
28 August at 03:13PM
There's nothing wrong with it but it does make it harder to tell your author when their work is below standard. It's not usually wise to ask your friends to critique your writing because they're usually afraid to be honest if it's bad.
Leia
28 August at 03:39PM
Publishers are professionals. It's perfectly 'wise to ask your friends to critique your writing' if your friends happen to be professional publishers. Who do you think might do a better job? Also, writers - actual writers, not people who aspire to be writers and/or talk about writing - can probably tell if their work is 'bad'. Where is this plain of perfect objectivity you stand on? It doesn't exist.
28 August at 04:05PM
"I think 18 writers across 42 places is not actually that narrow."
Surely you jest?
Stu
28 August at 04:21PM
Hullo Emmett. Perhaps you would be interested to know that I made several of the points that you make when I was on a panel on reviewing at the Bendigo Writers Festival (10-12 August), including a suggestion that our famous 'cultural cringe' was now working in reverse, and proving the point by reading out some local raves versus some very cool reviews of All That I Am and The Street Sweeper in the Literary Review and the Guardian, both published in the UK. There were a couple of speakers after me, on other topics, but the first reaction from the audience was a passionate endorsement of my - and your - views. We are not alone!
Judith Armstrong
28 August at 04:35PM
Fantastic article, whose central point is unassailable: the aim of literary criticism has to be an honest assessment of the work.
Whether it’s passionate, puzzled or problematical, a review’s only additional duty is to be interesting. Convince or provoke me, I don’t care, but place the work next to its best contrast and make your considered opinion plain and true.
Viva the coming revolution of the well argued contrarians!
One small point: why does both this article and Jacob Silverman’s lead with a swing authors and publishers for using Twitter as a marketing tool?
It is what is it: an online social platform for friends, the acquaintance of common interest, snark and –yep- selling.
Yes, Stinson notes that Twitter may only make a certain variety of reflexive admiring more visible but by placing the micro blogging site front and centre like this, the risk is run that it is somehow to blame.
It ain’t.
It’s fingers at keyboards.
James Tierney
28 August at 05:20PM
On consideration I think you're right on at least one point, Emmett. There's plenty of literary commentary, and lots of competitions - but we suffer from a lack of honest criticism - we lack that necessary spirit to give criticism and to receive it.
People like being supportive. It makes them feel good about themselves, as if they're doing a good thing. Paradoxically, though, too much support of writers - instead of, say, a balance of support and criticism - may be destroying some otherwise fine writers.
TimT
28 August at 05:49PM
I'm interested in the passionate defense of literary awards, but wonder why we don't also rail against the dulling sameness of them all.
As a hubris device for some of our political leaders they work fine but what is it that each does to make themselves relevant. Do these awards do anything other than reflect the overwhelming cultural dominance of our major dailies and their literary favourites.
Sure the statement is they promote excellence provide a small bucket-tip of cash to a living wage, etc etc. but this seems terribly hollow when the same books get the same accolades everywhere else
Do any of them have a profile and energy that engages in an ongoing dialogue with readers outside of their brief window of fame? Do we see readers or writing communities (a ham-fisted phrase used to include publishers, booksellers and associated hangers-on like myself) referencing the shift in reading or writing culture based upon the awards?
In the recent past can we map anything other than the slow blanding of what we are willing to champion
Maybe at issue here is that the broad slew of awards in Australia that give out real money reward safeness and sameness, and in turn our critical culture bases it's engagement with new ideas through that cautious prism.
There's nothing wrong with having a contrarian position as long as there is there is more too it than that. I don't for a minute see anything hollow in what Emmett has written, nor do I think, based upon reading some other of his pieces that he rails against the status quo without having some idea about what has been overlooked.
At the core of his argument though is the idea of prizes and the way in which they are awarded should be challenged, scrutinised, argued with and tested or they end becoming irrelevant
At my core I appreciate him for making that argument
malcolm
28 August at 06:55PM
Same as its ever been in all cultural areas in Australia - music, acting, you name it. I'm overseas and finally beginning to accept the truth of the convict thing.
29 August at 01:14AM
Great work Emmett, glad someone has stuck their neck out. As Gideon Haigh has also written, if we continue to have a chummy approach to reviewing, we will continue to have a pallid literary culture club, populated by, apologies to Boy George, Karma Chameleons, who are told what to like and change their colours accordingly. Hey, this is Australian and it's new. You have to like it!
The quality of writing - and interest in reading - is boosted by robust criticism and debate, which you've put forward. I remember being shocked when the American poet Andrew Zawacki came here and was candid about what he thought of other American poetry. I thought, if a poet spoke like that in Australia, he or she would never be published again. I wonder if we could have a year where every Australian publication sent Australian books to overseas reviewers? See what happens!
It's difficult though when so many Australian reviewers are also writers (and, worse, publishers). Review a book negatively that everyone's geared to praise and where do you send your next manuscript? Perhaps it's time for some Professional Reviewing and Judging Courses, along with some Professional Reading and Thinking courses.
Paul Mitchell
29 August at 01:14PM
Hasn't it been that way forever? Remember Mark Davis's 'Ganglands'?
Still, it's a little like the 'sweep' at the Academy Awards: one film (or maybe a lucky few) swipes everything, and plenty of worthy (and often worthier) films get nothing. I'm sure reputation gets in the way of criticism. I suppose everyone's heard the anecdote about Doris Lessing, who sent one of her fiction works pseudonymously to her publisher only for them to reject it out of hand
Edwina
29 August at 03:38PM
I don't know what you're all reading but I think there are plenty of negative reviews out there, esp for new Australian books. I do not see this lack of 'robust' criticism. And, Paul Mitchell, you must be kidding about Australian poets!!! They get vehemently stuck into each other all the time. And why do people always assume negativity is more considered than positivity?
writer
30 August at 02:26PM
I am new to Australia and was wondering why Anna Funder was on all the prize lists. I'm not saying her book is not great (I haven't read it yet), but I am thinking that there is very little point in having so many prizes and so few authors nominated. The main goal of literary prizes should be to promote as many authors as possible. I'm sure it's pretty much the same everywhere in the world, but coming from France, I feel like we are trying to get a diversity. Australian authors should be promoted all over the world because their works are great! But it seems that even australian people are not so keen in reading their own authors, when they are the ones who will help them understand each other and appreciate their own culture... Anyway, I'm trying my best to promote aussie litterature to french readers as I recently launched my blog Le koala lit. Hope you'll enjoy it :-)
Le koala Lit
03 September at 12:44PM
Quite agree, Emmett, and I don't think there's much doubt about it. There is also no doubt that a lot of books published each year are pretty ordinary, but still, new names, different styles, smaller publishers all tend to do badly. A few weeks ago I too reckoned there must be 42 possible shortlist places available per year. Actually I was checking for poetry and it's slightly less there - the Vic Prems has five or six for everything but only three for poetry (why?). The same books tend to make the poetry lists too. So I wrote a small kind of parable piece about belonging, the cliques, the 'clubs' ... though I've called them Tables. You have to sit at one to really make the lists regularly. If anyone is interested it can be found at: http://www.philipsalom.com/blog
I have judged national book prizes and I know it can happen that a judge might want their friend (or table mate) to win and so refuse to consider other books. I still see it happening. I had the reverse happen to me: a book of mine dedicated to a person who later became a judge for that year was disqualified. The book, I mean!
Philip Salom
03 September at 03:34PM