During World War I, book critic Rebecca West wrote the essay "The Duty of Harsh Criticism," a reminder that art must be talked about during the war. Photo: AP
Whether making a perfect comeback at the Algonquin, or picking up manuscripts off the beer-stained floor of The Pillars of Hercules, critics often seem to be urban creatures. Make legendary quips at the bar, then go home and sweat over the keyboard. That kind of thing.
Okay, I’m speaking in clichés. The sad reality is that many are stuck at home, desperate to drum up work. Their schedules of theatre and gallery openings have vanished, their album and book releases are postponed. They’re scratching their heads wondering what criticism people want to read in times like these.
The New York Times comedy critic Jason Zinoman asked such a question on Twitter last week, dealing with feelings of pointlessness in writing about art at a time when people are dying from the pandemic. “Should you write about movies/comedy/etc? If you do, does it need to adjust, read the room?” he asked.
No one has all the answers, but Zinoman did post a link to “The Duty of Harsh Criticism,” that classic 1915 essay by the book critic Rebecca West. Back then, in the early months of World War I, West put “art” and the “daily deathbed in Europe” in the same paragraph. For most of us, it would make writing criticism feel like an indulgence.
There’s something true in the syntax though. Despite the horror of the times, people still engage with art. Right now, it’s being done through video streaming and online portals, through reading and listening to music. We just aren’t doing it together, in a room. Zinoman’s latest column ended up being a vivid review of a vital comedian performing almost nightly on Instagram. Maybe that’s the way forward.
Does that mean theatre and opera critics will now write about video recordings? Will “old” shows become “new” again? Does the breadth and nuance of the theatricality outside the camera shot mean there is a full enough picture? Time will tell.
One interesting adjustment came from the Irish Times restaurant critic Catherine Cleary, who, now that the eateries are closed, has made an organic decision to interview farmers. The artistry is followed back to the source.
What would that look like for other forms of creativity? A paid journalist might interview artists and write about the impact of the shutdown on their livelihoods and work. Critics, with whatever personal libraries at their disposal, might revisit similar moments in history and see how art and criticism operated in those circumstances. Maybe this is time to separate art from its industries, from its canons, from its popular opinions, and re-evaluate the big picture.
“The Duty of Harsh Criticism” is sometimes misremembered as a rallying call for a new school of abusive and malicious criticism. People use it as code for “Artists, take cover”.
The essay was actually directed towards critics in England, their amiable “weak cheers” towards art, the kind of low-impact hubbub that comes from reviewers sitting on the fence. West anticipated that when the war would end, there would be a devastating pivot towards deep conservatism, and that critics would need to be ready.
That was indeed the fight throughout the 1920s, as the British government undertook a crusade of censorship, engaging in public trials of obscene books. West reviewed banned titles such as Ulysses and The Well of Loneliness. She was a vocal opponent against censorship, and she wrote crystal-cut, thought out reviews panning both books.
The job, as she saw it, wasn’t to write about the crisis. It was to make sure that art continues to get written about.
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