Bang the drum. Send in the clowns. Another writer has been inducted into the ABM (Author’s Big Mistake) Hall of Shame. She is Katherine Rosman, a reporter at The Wall Street Journal, author of the recently published book “If You Knew Suzy”, and aggrieved recipient of a mild book review toasting (not even a roasting) by The New York Times writer Dana Jennings. ABM members are writers who go print postal when they receive a poor review (see my previous post “What Not To Do If You’ve Received a Bad Review” for more on ABM). Although they generally train their crosshairs on the critic, writers sometimes crank back the magnification to widen the field of view to include the publisher. Watch out.
As if hubristic writer rage weren’t enough, sometimes the writer’s downfall is fuelled by word assaults from angry fans of the author. One of Rosman’s Twitter followers (an Associate Professor of Architecture no less) overtakes Rosman’s 1,514 word Gawker screed (the offending review devoted less than 300 words to Rosman’s book) with her superposed rapid fire word spray to The New York Times. @LizaSwanson’s verbose Letter to the Editor stands at 1,675 words. Will The New York Times publish it? Unlikely. Swanson and Rosman demonstrate the first three casualties of writer rage. Say goodbye to perspective, economy of language and tight edits, and say hello to digressive pity party prose. And to borrow a word apparently coined by Rosman, screeds aren’t very “Timesian”.
Don’t mistake the ABM Hall of Shame for a stellar literary feud. Hall of Shame blame is like an authorial weather report. Generally tedious with occasional light relief. Literary feuds on the other hand are like ringside seats at a Luche Libre spectacle. Pumped up stars, theatre and massive fun. The famous bust-up between Tom Wolfe, Norman Mailer, John Updike and John Irving was ignited following adverse reviews of Wolfe’s book A Man in Full. Wolfe retaliated with his essay “My Three Stooges”. And a truly classic literary feud is an extended collection of bon mots. Dorothy Parker’s feud with Clare Boothe Luce produced this (attributed) gem. The younger Luce opened a nightclub door for Parker snarking as she did so, “Age before beauty”. Parker serenely swept through replying “Pearls before swine”. This is how the pros do it Hall of Shamers.
A danger for the newest Hall of Shame inductees is the immediacy of Twitter. Rosman’s Twitter stream is at a tipping point. Will she continue to tweet about her NYT review and encourage her tweeps to do likewise leading to a possible Alice Hoffman-like implosion? Hoffman exceeded ABM and veered into obsessive stalker tactics when she bristled at a Boston Globe book review (which like Rosman’s wasn’t as bad as Hoffman thought). Her stream of Tweet nasties culminated with a Tweet revealing the private phone number of the reviewer, and a Tweeps call to arms. “Tell her what u think of snarky critics.”
It’s not just Twitter that attracts zealotry. The Gawker comments for Rosman’s article are largely negative towards Rosman’s rant. The author’s defender Liz Swanson goes to bat once again for Rosman, but she loses the argument to Eringowaaaah, whose reply to Swanson is bang on target:
That’s cool. But I think you just made the point that a lot of people are making here—reviews are subjective. Why review the reviewer? And especially, why is the author of the book reviewing her book review. Next, we’ll have the reviewer of the book reviewing the review of his review of the book by the author of the book.
At the end of the day, she got one crap review, and lots of good ones. Most authors should be so lucky. Seems cheap that she utilized her Gawker connects to deal with it
Rosman complains Mr Jennings didn’t “get” her book. A critic has no obligation to “get” a book on the writer’s terms. His role is to review with a judicious eye, and to employ Wimsatt and Beardsley’s “intentional fallacy”. Rather than consider the author’s intentions, the critic’s role is to be objective and decide what meaning the book might hold for the reading public. A critic isn’t a writer’s friend; a critic is the reading public’s friend. And it’s venal to imply a critic owes the writer quid pro quo because the writer sent the reviewer best wishes prior to the review.
“When I read of Mr. Jenning’s cancer, I wrote and mailed to him a letter sending him my best wishes. I guess I should have asked Ms. Didion for help in crafting it.”
Rosman doesn’t know when to stop. She pointedly states this is her first book. The subtext is clear. The reviewer should go easy on her. If being a Wall Street Journal reporter were a menial job like trainee apron boy at Sheets-n-Things on Glee, then yes, Rosman should get a pass on her first book attempt. But it isn’t. Writing is a profession envied by many. Writers earn their recognition.
Rosman indulges in pompous and yes, even ludicrous, analogies. The gem of the bunch is this:
“Might I add comparing all memoirs that involve themes of death against Ms. Didion’s is like measuring the work of every carpenter against Jesus Christ’s.”
Have archaeologists discovered furniture made by Jesus? No? So we agree no furniture by Jesus exists against which we can compare the work of contemporary furniture makers. Malcolm Gladwell reckons it takes 10,000 hours to become craft proficient, something the Bible fails to establish in terms of Jesus’ woodworking skills. The Reverend Ken Collins makes the Jesus-was-a-Rabbi-not-a-Carpenter point. “In the gospels, there is no incident where a Pharisee invites Jesus to fix a wobbly table.” The good Reverend also reminds us that “Carpenters don’t have disciples.”
There is a semi-tragic element to Rosman’s rant. It distracts from her gift as a writer. She can write. She is good. Her website “about me” page is charming and self-deprecating. But her decision to write a self-pitying, splenetic invective, and to compound the error by promoting her follower’s similar move demonstrates how powerful is the Sirens call of the ABM.
My advice to writers with fragile egos? Study screenwriter J.D. Shapiro. Shapiro recently received a Razzie award for worst movie of the decade for Battlefield Earth. Did he object? Did he hide? Did he whine? No. He rose to the occasion and treated the ceremony like a Friar’s Club Roast. He accepted his award in person. He made a self-deprecating, funny speech. He owned the movie. He declared it wasn’t just a “sucky” movie. No! It was the “suckiest” movie of an entire decade! Kudos! Shapiro’s IMDb STARmeter should be on the rise as a result of his Razzie acceptance speech. Heed his lesson writers. Own your output. Keep your voice authentic and your audience will listen. And if you can’t? Then employ brevity and wit when you write your riposte. And just to be safe, let it settle a few days before you hit “send”.
