Sarah Gold

What's in a Review?

It goes without saying that I spend a lot of time thinking about what makes a good book re-view. In general, it requires a smooth blend of description and evaluation. But, like most readers, I don’t want a review—especially of fiction—to tell me everything that happens. When I ask what a book is about, even (perhaps especially) a novel, I’m asking not who did what to whom but the meaning of those events. I want to know about the author’s voice, style and worldview.

A good nonfiction review must also assess the author’s information and analysis, the organi-zation and presentation, and whether the author has something new to say. In the case of an oft-told tale, say, a history of the California gold rush, does the author render it in a fresh, ex-citing and stylish narrative that might bring the story to a new audience?

Finally, there is the question of the reviewer’s own voice and passion. Some of my favorite reviewers don’t write about books. Though I’ve never been a foodie (and can’t afford the res-taurants he reviews), I love reading Frank Bruni’s restaurant reviews in the New York Times, because he brings the same gusto to his writing that he brings to his eating; his delight in a well-prepared dish is palpable.

My other favorite is also at the Times—Alastair Macaulay, the chief dance critic. I’d always felt Arlene Croce was the most erudite and illuminating of dance critics. But Macaulay comes close, and his sense of wonder and discovery is as palpable as Bruni’s.

When Macaulay loves a dancer, his cup overflows. I’ll admit his ode to Kyra Nichols when she retired from New York City Ballet ( a version of “How do I love thee...”) was a bit over the top, but it’s refreshing to find a critic willing to wear his heart on his sleeve.

On the other hand. Macaulay he feels no need to be polite toward dancers and dances that bore him, and his zingers have me laughing out loud.

Of course critics disagree about everything, including other critics. The curmudgeonly James Wolcott is less generous toward Macaulay’s gushings: at the Times, Wolcott writes, Macaulay is "free to express every quivering sentiment and glandular effusion.” Well, I don’t know about you, but I think that if you don’t feel the occasional quivering sentiment when watching a ballet or reading a book, why bother at all?(Not to mention that, on the one hand, Wolcott indicts Macaulay for weeping over Christopher Wheeldon's wonderful ballet Carousel, then indicts him for failing to acknowledge that there has been a single choreographer of worth after Balanchine. Ya just can't win with Wolcott.)

Here’s what Macaulay told Danceinsider.com in 2007, and it’s as good a definition of the critic’s job as any I have read: “A critic describes, analyses, contextualises, interprets, evalu-ates. He/she also entertains: I mean this in the serious sense that Balanchine told Denby that ballet is entertainment. But the word ‘critic’ is, obviously, intimately connected to the word ‘cri-teria.’ In that sense, what makes a critic good is his/her choice of criteria and his/her applica-tion of them.”

What do you look for in a review—of a book, movie, play, whatever?  Who’s your favorite critic?

Posted by Sarah Gold on May 2, 2008 | Comments (2)