Certainly, one can recognize that even the worst work of art might still have its merits. A book can be well written, but still bad, if it fails on other elements.
OK, I’ll take it a bit further. A bok can be well written on a topic that holds no interest for me; i.e, does not appeal to me. I can say that the book is well written, and a good book, but also say that Idon’t like it.
I think that declaring a book a bad book is a bit more complex than saying good books=books I like, bad books=books I don’t like.
I was responding to this exchange, which to me seemed to over-simplify the matter.
If that means I am arguing for some kind of objective standard for good literature, then, so be it. Is a book that contains nothing but repititions of the lower case “e” as good as, say, McCarthy’s** The Crossing**? I argue that it is not, even though Cormac McCarthy does not appeal to many folks.
Then I would say it’s not a good book. It gets a lot of other stuff right, but it failed to make the topic lively or entertaining. A really good book would let the reader feel the author’s passion for the subject, even if the reader didn’t have any passion for it themselves, and draw him into the novel that way. If the author can’t do that, then the book is bad, even if it exceeds in other areas. Even if the author can do that for every other person who reads the book but me, then the book is still bad, for me.
Clearly, I disagree. I do think, however, that saying, “I liked it,” or “I didn’t like it,” is often no simple task. I just finished a book (Spirit in the Wires, by Charles deLint) that had interesting characters, a unique setting, and a lively plot. But the story turned on one character having a complete reversal of personality that I simply did not buy. It just wasn’t a plausible development in his character. I won’t say it “ruined” the book for me: the other stuff in the book that was well done, was still well done, and this one flaw does not detract from those successes. But when taken altogether, that flaw overwhelms the others, and prevents the novel from working as a whole. It wasn’t a good book, even if there were parts of it I liked.
I think your argument is undercut by the ridiculousness of your example. A book that just repeats one character infinitely cannot be said to be a novel, although it might still work as a piece of conceptual art. You might as well compare McCarthy’s novels to the phone book. McCarthy will always win, because no matter how much you hate a novel, it’s still a better novel than something that isn’t a novel at all.
Miller,
For starters, I thought the topic was “books,” not “novels,” so that changes my approach slightly. Clearly, my example of McCarthy was meant to carry your statement that there is no difference bettween a bad book and a book that does not appeal (to someone) to a logical extreme. There is too a difference, and here’s why.
Say someone does not like detective fiction. Doesn’t matter why, she just hates that hard-boiled crap. That makes The Maltese Falcon a bad book, regardless of whether it meets any other literary standards for greatness. She just can’t get past the premise. She is unable to evaluate it fairly because nothing could draw her in to the novel. You can’t please everyone, and failing to do so is no reflection on the value of your effort.
Maybe for you. But unless you concede that that has nothing to do with anyone else’s justification for declaring a book bad, you come close to espousing the elitism you seem to be decrying.
I fear you are close to saying that there are no bad books, and no good books; just books, in which case “This book sucks” has no meaning.
Did Shakespeare write bad literature? I daresay I could find someone for whom he has no appeal.
Indeed, my point precisely. For such a person, a detective book can never be good, because the essential premise itself is flawed. Although I am curious as to what you think are the “literary standards for greatness.” I’ve never been able to find any that worked consistently, or that were not as vague and subjective as “I liked this book.”
Well, the author has certainly failed to entertain that specific reader. For the author’s sake, one hopes that his book found sufficient admirers to overcome that particular loss. And, as you say, you can’t please everyone. What of it? If you like Cormac McCarthy, but everyone else hates him, are you obliged to say his books suck, because that’s the prevailing opinion? If everyone else loves a book, but you can’t find any thing of value or interest in it, is your dislike wrong, or incorrect, because it is out of step with the popular response? Taste is subjective. As an individual experience of art, the only way to judge the quality of an art is to the extent that it affects you, personally. If it got to you, it was a good book. If it didn’t, it was not. The reactions of everyone else who reads is fundamentally immaterial to this.
I’m not entirely certain what you’re asking me to concede. I may have done it in the last paragraph? Perhaps you could clarify what you’re saying, here. Certainly, nothing I’m saying here should be construed as elitist. Rather, my position is very much populist.
That’s close enough to what I’m saying. And that does not rob any statement of individual opinion of any meaning at all. If you tell me a book sucks, I know that you did not like the book. What more do you expect me to divine from such a statement?
You could indeed. And their reaction to his writings is as valid as anyone elses.
It is entirely possible to evaluate, review, and criticise a work of art positively without liking it. People who do so are trained to be objective.
How about “Stands the test of time?”
Actually, no. She hasn’t even read the book, because she does not like detective fiction. All she needs to know about the book is what genre it is written in to declare it bad. He did not fail to entertain; they were never engaged.
No.
Believe it or not, I can dislike a work of art and still proclaim it to be good.
I am not sure how on point this is. I don’t remember being concerned with "everyone else who reads."I am concerned with the opinoions of those who take a critical eye toward literature, and their justifications for evaluating same.
Apologies. My wording was unwieldy. I am suggesting that you decry elitism. But your description of how you determine whether a book is good or bad sounds suspiciously like a form of literary criticism. You are applying standards with some degree of rigor. What I meant in my response was that, according to you, such standards do not exist. So what if you had to think carefully and assess the book before deciding it was bad? If I read you correctly, deciding a book is bad because the font is wonky is just as good a method.
From that statement? Probably nothing more. It does not follow that there is nothing more to be devined, however.
So the opinion of a Shakespearian scholar is as valid as that of a tenth grade high school student who reads the first three lines of Hamlet and declares it crap? Really?
When I was in high school I loved the novels of Tom Robbins. Now I find them unreadable. Were they “good” then only to be “bad” now? This makes no sense to me. The books have not changed, but I have been exposed to better literature and now I expect more from an author. However, I would never say “Tom Robbins novels suck.” The things that made them good are still there. They just don’t appeal to me any more.
If you had a favorite food that was a rare treat for you, but suddenly you were eating it every day, I suspect you would grow tired of it. Nothing about the dish has changed. it is identical to the food you loved in the past. Is it now garbage, because your taste buds are overloaded? Obviously, I say not. The dish is the same. How, then, can the evaluation be so radically different?
It seems to me to be a somewhat self-centered way of looking at the world, and one that could be dangerous. Why teach literature at all? Or art, or music, or dance, or theater, if the premise is that whatever anybody says is good is good? When a book report need consist of only one word? Scales, steps, emoting, harmony, balance, projection, all needless skills in a world where things either suck or they don’t.
They are? I’m pretty sure that’s not true. I don’t recall any of my college English courses putting much emphasis on objectivity. But it was a state college, and I only got a BA. Maybe they do that in grad school? It might help if you could provide a review that says a book (or movie, or album, or whatever) is good, written by someone who makes it clear they disliked it? I can’t really think of any examples of something like that.
Okay. How much time? Ten years? Fifty? A hundred? And what do we do with all the stuff that hasn’t reached that milestone? How do we approach stuff that was made last year? By how closely it resembles stuff that was made in the 1800s? That’s a bit sterile, isn’t it? And what about stuff that’s “failed” the test of time, been forgotten, and then rediscovered? If a play written in 1806 is found today, and receives popular acclaim, has it “passed the test of time,” or does the clock reset, since it spent most of the last two hundred years totally forgotten?
Meh. “Stands the test of time” is a poor standard. It’s just another popularity contest, when you get down to it.
Sorry, I guess I should have made it clear upfront: any informed opinion is equally valid. If someone hasn’t read the work, they don’t have an informed opinion.
I believe you, I just don’t understand what purpose that would serve. If it’s good, why don’t you like it?
Okay. And? How does this bear on what we’re talking about?
Wow. That’s… um… I’m not sure what that is. What’s “suspicious” about sounding like a form of literary criticism? I’m not trying to be covert about it, here. I do apply standards to what I read. Reasonably high ones, I like to think. However, they are my standards, and I don’t expect anyone else to share them. And yeah, font is as reasonable a grounds to criticize a book as anything else. If that’s your thing, go for it. You’re going to have trouble finding common ground to discuss literature, because most other people don’t give a shit about font,* but if you’re talking to a convention of typesetters, I’m sure you could get some rousing debates going.
[sub]*Up to a point, at least. I don’t think Hamlet would be well received if it were printed in Wingdings.[/sub]
No, I’d want the 10th grader to finish the play, or at least a majority of it, first. Informed opinion, and all. But after that, sure, it’s just as valid. Interesting, insightful, educational, or entertaining? Not very likely. But valid, sure. It’s hella valid.
Yes, exactly.
Right. You’ve changed. Art isn’t about what happens on the page, or the canvas, or the stage. It’s about what happens in your head when you see it. That’s where “good” or “bad” comes in.
You won’t say they suck, but you will say they’re unreadable? Practically speaking, what’s the difference?
Because the evaluator is different, obviously. If I give one copy of a book to you, and you love it, and I give another copy to your friend, and he hates it, how do you explain that? It’s exactly the same book. None of the words in it have changed. How, then, can the evaluations be so radically different?
Now you’re just being silly. “One word review?” What the hell does that have to do with anything I’ve written here? The sheer volume of my posts alone ought to be evidence that I’m not opposed to being long-winded. Why teach literature? Because it’s teaching you how to think, that’s why. The point of teaching a kid To Kill a Mockingbird isn’t to get him to like To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s to get him to think about To Kill a Mockingbird. A kid who writes a report eviscerating the novel should get as good a grade as the kid who writes a report praising it to the heavens, provided both of them can back up their arguments logically, coherently, and with reference to the text. Art is about process, in both the creation, and the consumption. It’s not about result. There aren’t “right” answers, just “well argued” ones.
Hey, Miller, it just occurred to me that we are on different coasts. Bedtime approaches. I’ll have an answer for you tomorrow. I suspect that we are not all that far apart. Sometimes my phrasing is a bit bulky. A Dios.
No worries. Have a good night.
Not really. If people from different places, times, and walks of life can, by and large, agree something has value and merit, it likely does, even if you don’t like it. Maybe that’s the distinction being lost here-- something having merit and value v. liking something. Just because you personally don’t enjoy it doesn’t mean it’s bad or worthless.
There are different levels of “informed” too. Anyone who can read English on a 7th grade level can read Shakespeare, but they can’t read it like I can read it with two Masters degrees in English, can they? I do believe I can get more out of it, having done research on it. Maybe that’s elitist, but I don’t think just reading Hamlet on a perfunctory level gives you the qualifications to say it sucks. To say it failed to engage you or doesn’t appeal to you, sure. But it’s not a “bad” or “sucky” play.
Green beans are good. They have nutritional value and are good for you. I don’t like them because their flavor does not appeal to me. It would be idiotic to say they were “bad,” as if my preference negated any goodness the beans might have.
I tell my students that they can say they don’t like something, but they can’t say it sucks unless they can provide a cogent criticism. “I don’t get it, it’s too hard” ain’t gonna wash as an insightful critique of Shakespeare.
You’re missing my point. If we’re talking about a book, are we talking about the book, or are we talking about how people in general feel about that particular book? If I read a book, and I think it’s entirely trash, the fact that a lot of other people think it’s great doesn’t factor into it. I’m not talking about their opinions, I’m talking about my opinion. Now, if we’re talking about the place of a particular work in the larger historical perspective, sure, that’s a little different. I might not personally like Hemingway, but I’d have to recognize his influence on the authors who followed him, and the way he changed literature. On the other hand, if we’re talking about the book itself, I’m going to give you my opinion on it, which might run counter to the general consensus in many ways. I don’t think it’s necessary for me to point out when this occurs. If you’re asking for my opinion on a book, you’re asking what value or merit I found there. If I didn’t find either, that’s what I’m going to tell you.
I agree, and said precisely the same in my last post.
Why not? Is it the authority that’s lacking? Okay, what if I have two masters degrees, several published books, and a tenured position at a prestigious university, and I say Hamlet sucks? Or are we talking pure appeal to popularity? Since so many people agree that Hamlet is great, I should refrain from explaining why I think it sucks donkey balls? If that’s the standard, am I also not allowed to express my displeasure with the Left Behind books, or the Danielle Steele ouvre?
There’s nothing idiotic about that at all! Seriously, if I asked you in a casual conversation if you like green beans (because you know how often that comes up in small talk) would you say, “Although they have many nutrional benefits, I find their flavor unpalatable,” or would you say, “Ew, they taste horrible”?
And I totally disagree that saying something is “bad” automatically implies that the subject under discussion has absolutely no good qualities. Especially when you’re talking about something as complicated as a novel.
Once again, precisely what I said in my last post.
Well, I can sorta give an example. When I was nineteen, I and some friends rented Wings of Desire. The movie was beautifully shot, and it said something very profound and lovely about the human condition. And I was this close to gnawing my leg off in order to escape watching the movie. It bored the living crap out of me.
As soon as we turned it off, we talked about it, and we pretty much all agreed: here was a great movie that not one of us could stand.
I’m not sure exactly what that means, given that I agree that there are no objective standards for quality in a work of art. There are three things I can think of that it could mean:
- The work might succeed at your own personal criteria in what you consider to be the most important categories, but fail so spectacularly in what you consider to be a trivial category that viewing/reading/hearing it becomes an unpleasant experience.
- It might fail your own criteria, but you can recognize that it succeeds for most other people’s criteria.
- Like 2, but you recognize that it succeeds for the criteria of some group of folks whose opinion you really respect (because they so often steer you right, or because you look to them as arbiters of taste, or something).
I’m not really sure what motivated me to call Wings of Desire a good movie. I don’t think it was exclusively any one of the above: I wasn’t just trying to keep my arthouse cred, but I was certainly aware of that effect. I did genuinely admire the movie’s clever elaboration of its theme, and the cinematography genuinely awed me.
On the other hand, there have also been movies and books that I freely acknowledge are complete crap and that I enjoy. That’s the reverse of the above criteria.
Daniel
Simpler example: I admire the works of Lucien Freud. No way would I have one on my wall, though - they’re fucking revolting. But I still appreciate his genius.
LHoD: Yeah, I’ve had a few experiences like that. A lot of this thread has been arguing for extremes, but most of what we experience is a lot closer to the middle: stuff that works on a lot of levels, maybe even brilliantly, but still fails at some critical point that makes the overall end product unsatisfying. You don’t automatically have to slag every work of art that doesn’t appeal in the strongest terms possible. Wings of Desire didn’t function as a film for you: for all the stuff that it got right, it still couldn’t make itself interesting. If we insist on framing everything in binary terms, yeah, I’d say it fell on the “bad” side of the scale, but in reality, there’s a lot of gradation available between the two extremes.
Most of my argument here is that, when presenting your own opinion on the movie, you don’t need to take 2 or 3 into account, although there’s certainly nothing wrong with doing so. I don’t think anyone should be required to temper their own opinion by acknowledging at every turn that there are people who disagree with it. 1 is, however, pretty important for a rounded approach to a work. It’s the Hamlet in Wingdings that I mentioned earlier: most people don’t care about font, but a screw up that large in an otherwise trivial area can still ruin an otherwise excellent work.
jjimm: I’d say that’s a horse of a different color. A lot of art exists to draw out “negative” reactions. Freud isn’t trying to paint pretty pictures: he wants his audience to be somewhat repulsed by his images. That’s what makes them interesting. However, it’s not necessarily the sort of thing you want to expose yourself to everytime you go down the hall to the bathroom. Some works of art, you need to be braced for. It’s like comparing Schindler’s List to Airplane! SL is doubtlessly a better movie, but nine time out of ten I’d rather watch Airplane!, simply because I’m not often in a mood where I want to deal with the strong, painful emotions raised by the Holocaust.
I apologise for lowering the tone, but I first read this as Schindler’s List on a Plane! and had a vision of Samuel L. standing the aisle with an AK47, saying “get those motherfucking Nazis off my motherfucking plane.”
I smell sequel!
I meant to post yesterday that, as usual, I find myself substantially in agreement with you, Miller. But I forgot.
Daniel
Looks to me like Slate is browsing the SDMB for subject matter. Here’s Seth Stevenson’s rebuttal to Walloon.
Heh. My mother used to chastise us for saying “stinks” instead of “smells”.
Perhaps Walloon wrote some of the books that are said to suck? Maybe it’s personal for him(her?).
I fall in the camp of if it’s badly written, then it sucks. If I don’t get it or don’t like it–it may not “suck”, but it sucks just for me. A fine distinction, but one that is valuable, IMO.