Like most things in our culture having to do with the
printed word, the book review is in decline. In the survival struggles of several metropolitan newspapers the book section vanished early. Many small papers first cut and then eliminated the freelance budgets that allowed for the review
of books of local interest.
This decline in reviews represents a big loss for readers.
Sure, you can read what other readers think of books on Amazon and elsewhere on
the web, but there is no filter for these. There is no telling whether the writers have personal connections with the authors or whether they have credentials as
reviewers. There is no one to lay down a set of ethical and reader-friendly
rules for the reviewers, no knowledgeable editor to select books worthy of review.
In the book world, pure democracy has its advantages, but it has
drawbacks, too.
Michael Pakenham |
Michael had rules and enforced them. The length limit for a
review was 600 words. Each review was to include a line written by the reviewer
that would stick in the reader’s head. Each was to identify the intended
audience for the book under review. And each had a tight deadline: Michael was
a newsman, and books and authors were news.
This all seemed over-prescriptive when I started, but I came
to appreciate Michael’s ways. The length limit allowed him to make the most of
the space he had, serving the variety of interests that would be drawn to this
space. The requirement for a line that would stick forced the reviewer to think about each sentence and write
better throughout. Identifying the audience served readers as consumers.
Then one day Michael was gone, and with him much of the space he had
filled so intelligently.
I love book reviews. Often I read them even though I know I
will not read the book. I also read the book critics of bygone times, Edmund
Wilson and Alfred Kazin, to name two.
Alfred Kazin |
I subscribe to the New
York Review of Books and the Book
Review of the New York Times. In
these hard times for the printed word, I worry about them both for different
reasons. With the Review of Books my
question is: How long can its editors keep this up? I always find fresh and surprising
reviews and essays in its pages. Among periodicals, only the New Yorker consumes more of my time. I
like many of the Review’s regular contributors, including my poet friend Charles Simic,
a fine prose writer with eclectic interests.
What worries me about the Book Review in the Times
may be as much about me as it is about the publication. I spend much less time
with it than I used to. Either the reviews and essays are less compelling or I
am less interested in contemporary literature.
Whichever is correct, I began writing this glimpse into my book
world for positive reasons associated with the New York Times Book Review. This Sunday’s edition reminded me of the old days. In part
this was because the subjects it took up were of interest to me. It
included reviews of two books on how World War I started and two columns on the
current fiction vs. nonfiction debate.
Jill Abramson |
But the best of the Review
was the meaty cover essay. Written by Jill Abramson, the executive editor of the
Times, it addressed an issue that has
bugged me for a long time.
The essay was titled “The Elusive President.” The president
in question was John F. Kennedy, the occasion the coming 50th anniversary of
his assassination. Abramson’s premise was that, for all his popularity, few
good books have been written about Kennedy.
I’ve read, or tried to read, many of the books Abramson
mentioned. As you can see from an earlier post, I’m a fan of Robert Caro’s
monumental biography of Lyndon B. Johnson. But as Caro told Abramson, even
though Kennedy is one of the great American stories, “there is no great
biography of Kennedy.”
Abramson correctly argued that Robert Dallek’s An Unfinished Life is the best Kennedy biography,
but frankly I couldn’t get through it. I just didn’t find Dallek a compelling
storyteller. Abramson was also right in suggesting that one of the best Kennedy
books is The Death of a President by
William Manchester. The long excerpt she quotes told you why: Manchester was
not only a good popular historian, but he was also a lyrical writer who knew
how to rise to his subject.
You can read Abramson’s essay here. And here you can read
Norman Mailer’s account of Kennedy and the 1960 Democratic convention, which
Abramson also praised.
I hope the Book Review
will do more such penetrating and important cover essays. Michael Pakenham was right: Books are news, and conflict and
controversy swirl around them.
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