Bad writing deserves harsh review. To maintain some semblance of cultural standards is why review exists.
Many today think “review” means an unconditionally positive blurb from friends, and any critique is “hate” or “revenge trolling” or what ever. That’s childish, stupid, and wrong. Critique is analysis, and if a work fails, it is review that points it out, so others know.
Each review is one person’s assessment, nothing more. Some review is persuasive, some rings hollow. Much review offers thoughtful points to consider, backing them up with context and referents, examples and comparisons.
Vast majority of my reviews are positive, even enthusiastic. This is because I don’t bother reading crap. If I begin to read something and it fails me, I chuck it over my shoulder and find something remarkable, compelling, and otherwise good. When forced by circumstance or suckered by doubt into reading the entirety of a bad work, that is when my review will be harsh, but I will be fair, tell why, and place it in context with other, similar work.
I read a lot.
I think about writing a lot.
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“The world is a hellish place, and bad writing is destroying the quality of our suffering.”
/ Tom Waits
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All any item ever is, when sold, is a way to get your money. Period.
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To believe is to pretend. The quality of one’s fantasies varies with intelligence and education, or the lack of those things.
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Good silent films fascinate the way good lean prose fascinates.
/ geste
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“And I believe that reading and writing are the most nourishing forms of meditation anyone has so far found.
By reading the writings of the most interesting minds in history, we meditate with our own minds and theirs as well.
This to me is a miracle.”
/ Kurt Vonnegut
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I live alone,
Parallel to her,
Rarely touching.
I live together,
At the vanishing point,
Rarely converging.
I live as we,
As me, as she.
Barely make it through.
/ W B Kek
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