It must be a month with a vowel in its name, as once again the Guardian‘s blog Comment is Free has an article lamenting the death of professional criticism, this time written by one Ronan McDonald, who isn’t important enough to have his own Wikipedia entry. His article follows the usual pattern of these things: first an assertion of the importance of literary criticism, then the contrasting of a vanished golden age of criticism when critics were Taken Serious as arbiters of good taste, with the present democratisation and vulgarisation of opinion through blogs and Amazon ratings, all the while confusing criticism with reviewing, followed by a call to arms to the great unwashed to once again let professional critics determine what we should like or not like. The following excerpt is typical in its confusion:
The bloggers and reading groups often claim that they would rather get recommendations from someone they know, someone with similar tastes. One problem with this is that the public are relying on a reviewing system that confirms and assuages their prejudices rather than challenges them. An able and experienced critic, with sufficient authority, could once persuade readers to give unfamiliar work a second chance, to see things they did not see at first glance. In that respect, critics can be the harbingers of the new.
Can we rely on the bloggers to bring vital if alienating art to a wide audience? The conviction that educated taste is an elitist ruse, that one opinion is as good as another, and that we should take our lead for our cultural life solely from people like us might seem like an instance of “people power”. Yet the death of the critic is to be mourned. If we only listen to those who already share our proclivities and interests, the supposed critical democracy will lead to a dangerous attenuation of taste and conservatism of judgment. Without critics of authority, the size and variety of contemporary criticism may ultimately serve the cause of cultural banality and uniformity.
See? It positively reeks of sour grapes and fear. Literary criticism rarely sold papers anyway, and with informed opinion on almost every book imaginable just a google away, who would want to buy a Guardian say to read up about the latest predictable novel by a well established middle aged author, reviewed by a friend of said author hoping for a nice blurb from him for their own next book? Professional critics these days rarely if ever champion controversial art other than that branded controversial by the artist because it’ll sell better… Modern art and literature has gotten in a rut, is created and written for a small circle of London literati, smug and self satisfied and professional criticism echoes this.
Meanwhile for every professional critic eking out a living regurgitating received wisdoms, there are thousands of people online just as qualified if not more so to give their opinion about art, even when we would want to adhere to McDonald’s absurd standards, and who do it for free, for the sheer love of literature, of art. And they aren’t bound by London conventions…