Check out the critical conversation in the new Time Out Chicago (”Critical Condition,” by Kris Vire), featuring Booklist’s very own “books critic,” Donna Seaman (the accidental title makes it seem as if we also have food, TV, and automotive critics). An excerpt:

Kris Vire: Is passion more important than education?

Donna Seaman: Initially, but passion must lead to discipline and immersion. Expertise is gained from sustained attention.

Don Hall: I think passion and education go hand in hand. If you’re passionate about theater, you’ll likely educate yourself about it.

Anne Holub: You have to have a passion for it; otherwise, you’re simply not going to bother.

Chuck Sudo: Expertise is gained from sating your curiosity, then realizing there’s still more to learn.

Donna Seaman: Yes. One must also have the urge to share one’s enthusiasms. To advocate. To be clear about what it is that matters in a work of art.

Sam Jones: Formal education is probably not more important than passion, but knowledge of the medium you’re criticizing is.

Anne Holub: Right, and since most subjects are constantly changing and growing, it’s likely going to be a lifelong pursuit.

Jim DeRogatis: In as (allegedly) democratic an art form as rock & roll, it is true that literally everyone is a critic. The difference between a good critic and a bad critic is the ability to put into words the reasoning behind those opinions. And there education can be helpful, but it can be as informal as simply being a voracious reader.

Chuck Sudo: Or, if you’re talking about food and drink, as simple as going to that one hole-in-the-wall restaurant you’ve long avoided because of preconceived notions.

Mike Sula: Or just being aware of your preconceived notions.

Don Hall: In order to appropriately criticize, a dollop of self-awareness is necessary - knowing your own prejudices, etc.

Sam Jones: Critics are like statistics - what they say is almost meaningless without the underlying story.

Donna Seaman: Ongoing self-education is essential.

Jim DeRogatis: And education is another word for journalism: If you have a perceptive young reader, you can send him or her out to critique something without having a deep knowledge in the subject, so long as he or she does the journalistic homework beforehand. You need not have gone to Juilliard to critique the Rolling Stones, or to have heard all of their 40 or so albums. But you’d better get the facts right when you come back and write up your emotional reaction to the show.

Donna Seaman: Everyone who reads a book, listens to a piece of music, and so on, experiences a slightly different work of art. A critic has to be able to imagine many responses, and see the experience in a greater context.

Jim DeRogatis: Why is that important? Do you really want to know how an 11-year-old experienced Hannah Montana?

Donna Seaman: Writing is always about exposing the workings of a mind, even a tween with bad taste.

Anne Holub: I want to know how the 11-year-old’s parents experienced paying for those tickets!

Sam Jones: We come to trust critics by reading them - that’s how we have traditionally gotten the story.

Believe me, Donna does not look like her icon. She actually looks like this.

Hey, TOC gave yours truly a mention, too! (Chest thump.) Respect.

Indefatigable American Libraries editor Dan Kraus has just finished another video for AL Focus–with the focus this time on Booklist editors. Every January, editor-in-chief Bill Ott solicits our favorite personal reading for his Back Page column (”Reading for Fun“). And this year, Dan got a few of us to talk about it on camera. I’m sure that, watching the fruit of his labors, Dan is thinking that he may as well quit–whether because he’ll never be able to best this masterpiece or for some other mysterious reason (hey, we tried to be brief), only he knows for sure.

Watch it here.

(Why is the video not embedded? Take it up with WordPress. I keep meaning to and never getting around to it.)

• 44% of book reviewers enjoy a glass of wine while reading; of those, 78% prefer red wine to white; of the red-wine drinkers, only 8% declare malbec to be their first choice
• 92% of book reviewers have fallen asleep in the act (of reading)
• 3% of book reviewers have never had the thought that they could do a better job than the author whose book they’re reviewing

Those are only a few of the statistics you won’t find in the National Book Critics Circle’s new ”Ethics in Book Reviewing Survey.”

Interesting stuff, and either a sobering reminder of the inconsistency plaguing our trade or a wonderful reminder of the diversity uplifting our art. Although some of the most interesting and entertaining stuff is in the contentious comments–both to the blog post and to the survey results. From the latter: 

The ethical issues here are getting increasingly picayune.

And:

I have no knowledge of blogs and no opinions about them.

Now the bad news. The Chicago Sun-Times is taking the axe to its book section. From Critical Mass:

Just when it seemed the cutbacks in newspaper book sections had struck bone, they’ve gone deeper yet this month. Starting on December 30th the Chicago Sun-Times’ book section – formerly run by Cheryl L. Reed, now by Teresa Budasi — is being reduced by half, and moved from the Controvesy section of the newspaper to the Show section. All reviews are being reduced by half, as well, to 250 to 300 words.

I like to think this had nothing to do with the fact that I was recently profiled in said publication. If I’m wrong, I’d like to apologize for not selling more papers. (Hey, I bought as many as I could carry!)

The Association of American Publishers will award its AAP Honors prize to the National Book Critics Circle. Hey, we’ve got a couple of NBCC members around here…way to go, Brad and Donna! From the Associated Press (”Publishers to honor critics“):

“As newspapers across the country slashed book review space and fired experienced book editors in the name of belt-tightening, the NBCC decided to fight back,” the AAP said in a statement, noting the NBCC’s “Campaign to Save Book Reviews,” which has included panel discussions, blogs and interviews with book editors “in the trenches.”

Almost out the door. But I did read a few good things today. Here’s one of them, a peek inside the little-known craft of writing reader’s reports. Think book reviews, but for a really small audience (and with a sometimes larger impact). From the Guardian (”Literature’s invisible arbiters,” by Esther Allen):

Worse, the power of a reader’s report is almost entirely negative. Barbara Epler of New Directions famously decided to publish the great WG Sebald on the strength of a negative reader’s report, but in general a bad report guarantees that a book won’t be published. A good report, however, is likely to be ignored. Worst of all, even when a good report does lead to publication - and the publisher finds a translator who’s up to the task - the translated book will probably be left to its own devices in the marketplace, with little or no publicity, and will therefore ultimately be deemed a failure. All of which leaves those of us who write reader’s reports in a rather ambiguous position.

Michael Silverblatt, host of KCRW’s Bookworm, talks to the Los Angeles City Beat about L.A. literary culture, his reading habits, and the idea that arguing is impolite (”3rd Degree: Michael Silverblatt,” by Rebecca Epstein):

You are known for being able to impress your guests with your critical acumen. Have you ever been stumped or totally taken off balance by one of them in return?

Somehow or other the idea that argument is impolite has come up. It’s sort of like, why fight with people whose opinion you already know? But America, to be lofty, was once a place where everything was discussed - politically correct or not - and we talked with enormous belief that the conversation could change the listener. But if we’re not used to starting with incomprehension, then passion as informed talk doesn’t take hold. People aren’t swayed.

Norman Mailer had done me the great favor of calling me the best reader in America. It was amazing. Also, his publisher had told me that Norman had given explicit instructions not to schedule two things on the same day that he would talk to me, because he really enjoyed talking to me, but it wore him out. This was because I’m not afraid anymore, and we would argue.

(From Likely Stories stringer Frank Sennett.)

Most critics really liked Denis Johnson’s Tree of Smoke (Booklist certainly did, too; the book earned a star from the tough-minded Ben Segedin). But it’s always interesting to read the outlier reviews. After all, book reviewing would be pretty boring if we all agreed on everything. And, boy, does B. R. Myers disagree (”A Bright Shining Lie,” Atlantic Monthly):

When a novel’s first words are "Last night at 3:00 a.m. President Kennedy had been killed," and the rest of it evinces no more feel for the English language and often a good deal less, and America’s most revered living writer touts "prose of amazing power and stylishness" on the back cover, and reviewers agree that whatever may be wrong with the book, there’s no faulting its finely crafted sentences - when I see all this, I begin to smell a rat. Nothing sinister, mind you. It’s just that once we Americans have ushered a writer into the contemporary pantheon, we will lie to ourselves to keep him there.

Another link to the Onion? What is this, Friday? Yes. Their print list of “5 good books made into not-so-good movies” is expanded to 20 online. With YouTube links. If you haven’t seen the film version of Kurt Vonnegut’s Slapstick, you’re in for a…what’s the opposite of treat? From “Lost In Translation: 20 Good Books Made Into Not-So-Good Movies,” by Donna Bowman, Jason Heller, Josh Modell, Noel Murray, Keith Phipps, Tasha Robinson, Scott Tobias:

3. Bicentennial Man (1999)

Isaac Asimov’s original novella - later expanded into a novel - subtly examines what it means to be human, by telling the story of a robot with a mechanical brain so advanced that he begins to develop emotion and creativity. But big Hollywood movies don’t do subtle well, especially not with Chris Columbus directing and Robin Williams starring. Columbus and screenwriter Nicholas Kazan pour on the schmaltz, while Williams bats his eyes innocently and pats little children’s heads. Meanwhile, moments that are supposed to involve deep ruminations about man and machine become impassive stare-downs, accompanied by 101 Strings. Here’s a tip: If you want to know what it means to be human, don’t ask the creators of Mrs. Doubtfire.

[Spoiler alert: If you don’t want to know what happens to Easy Rawlins at the end of Walter Mosley’s Blonde Faith, stop reading now.]

My review of Walter Mosley’s Blonde Faith was due on June 15 (and was published in the July 2007 issue of Booklist; the book was published in October). It was a hectic time, and, uncharacteristically, I finished the book that very morning, on my bus ride to work. In the final few pages, I was reminded yet again why reviewers must read every page of every novel they review: Easy Rawlins’ car goes off a cliff and, apparently, Easy dies.

Holy crap! I read the end again and was convinced that, yep, this was the end of the road for Easy. When I got to work I discussed this startling development with my boss, Bill Ott. Bill was a little more skeptical than I was–having read as widely as he has in crime fiction, he can be forgiven for a little cynicism about the possibility of a next-installment resurrection–but agreed nonetheless that it was newsworthy.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t news we could really break.

I have to confess that I was excited. Reading books long before the general public, and having advance knowledge of plot twists, is a great perk of the job. But while the public wants to know what we think–is the book worth reading?–they don’t want to know all of the details. Like the end, for example. Some people don’t even want to read a book for which they’ve accidentally learned the ending. So to write a review trumpeting the fact that a character dies, well, those are e-mails nobody wants to answer. The pleasure of having privileged information, then, is tempered by having to keep that information secret.

Still, I felt that Easy’s seeming death had to be addressed. It fit in naturally with the review I’d been drafting in my mind, because the book didn’t read as if Mosley’s heart was in it. And given all the other kinds of books he’d been publishing with increasing frequency, the death thing fit the picture of a restless writer who was ready to move on to new challenges.

I went through a few drafts, but even phrases like “shocking ending” seemed to hint too broadly. I settled on this:

But if this extraordinary series is beginning to drift, there are indications that suggest Mosely may be thinking about wrapping it up.

Why am I revisiting the subject now? Because Mosley’s talking about it. In October, he told Ebony (”Could this be his last?” by Lynette R. Holloway) this:

“I’m thinking about not writing any more Easy Rawlins novels,” says Mosley. “But I don’t know. I might wake up one day in 20 years and decide there is a story I want tell about Easy Rawlins. But for now, this could be it. You can’t write [about] something forever.”

A short while later he had apparently made up his mind. The other day, he told the Minneapolis Star-Tribune (”Easy does it,” by Bill Ward) this:

“That’s it. I’m finished writing Easy Rawlins novels,” said Mosley, who was dressed in black down to his sneakers, but clearly not in mourning. “I have so many other things to do, to think about, to wonder about. I have a lot of books to write.” 

And he talked about it with Tavis Smiley on the radio.

Smiley: “Say it ain’t so, man. Say it ain’t so.”

Mosley: “It’s so, it’s so. I can’t write about Easy forever…The truth is I have many, many books in my mind, many more books than I could ever write in my life. And even though I love writing Easy and I know people like reading about him, he’s been–in the 3,000 pages that I’ve published on him, I’ve covered him. He’s like, we know everything we need to know about Easy Rawlins in those 3,000 pages. And so it’s time for me to move on and do other things.”

Nobody’s really saying “Easy dies”–they’re talking about “the end of the series” and so on, but it’s clear enough. By the time Patrick Anderson reviewed Blonde Faith for the Washington Post (”Can Easy Rawlins Survive This ‘Blonde’?“)–interestingly enough, alongside Philip Roth’s Exit Ghost–Easy’s demise had become part of the zeitgeist enough that Anderson felt comfortable opening with:

Last week I read two novels that are said to be the end of two admired American series.

(Why not throw in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, too? Oh, he said “American.” Although there’s an interesting tangent here, if I had time, about how the issue of a Major Character’s Death obsessed Potter fans for months before the final book’s publication, and the furor that greeted some supposed spoilers.)

Lost in all of this, I think, is discussion about the larger arc of Mosley’s career. I’ve wondered aloud whether he’s diluting his talents. If Booklist’s reviews are anything to go by–and they certainly are–his non-Easy efforts are pretty uneven.

Is Mosley making a mistake by leaving behind the books that made him famous? Is he writing too many books too quickly? Is he trying to refashion himself from a writer of intelligent entertainments into a literary lion/renaissance man/Important Writer? Is he, in fact, an Important Writer?

As I said, I admire his restlessness and ambition, although sometimes I’ve had to force myself to read the results. As for Easy’s retirement, I’ll let Anderson have the last word:

If I am tentative in writing off Rawlins…it is because, by and large, novelists are not to be trusted.