Right now, I'm not sure what to make of the National Book Critics Circle (NBCC). I began reading their blog, Critical Mass, for news and information about books I might want to read. In the United States alone, something like 175,000 titles are published each year, and even if I had unlimited time, I'd never be able to browse them all to determine the ones I should add to my repertoire. The critic does the work for me by flagging the newest releases, culling the good from the bad, and pointing out important works.
Although I look at reviews, I'm not much interested in them as a genre of writing. For my taste, some tend to be a bit too long and a bit too heavy on critical analysis. Rather than read thoroughly, I do a quick scan because my interest lies in finding out the name of the book and author, a description of the plot, and whether or not the prose is worth my time. Frankly, I don't need to spend time with 3,000 words before deciding to buy a book and I don't need a critic to set the standard for my taste or influence my opinion. After all, I maintain this litblog because I love reading and have plenty of opinions of my own.
With the decline of book coverage in newspapers, the NBCC has launched a campaign to save reviewing. So now when I visit Critical Mass, I don't hear much about books. Instead, they fill their space with news of layoffs and the disappearance of stand-alone book sections. They tell me critics are the front line to dialogue about books. They flaunt the superiority of print over pixels. They say frothed rantings of litbloggers are inferior to the measured opinions of professional critics. And they believe reviews in newspapers bring prestige to authors while reviews on blogs, written by the book buyers to share passion for reading, are insignificant.
What am I to think? I am both a reader and a blogger. As a reader, I want to know about books. As a blogger, I have an interest in other blogs. Visiting Critical Mass is a natural fit, but the very reason why I was drawn to their site—book blogging—has been replaced by frantic pleas to save their jobs. And most of the arguments behind their cries disparage things I do every day, find valuable, and enrich my life. How is such a tactic supposed to engage my sympathies for their predicament?
The newspaper is clearly important to me because I am a paid subscriber to New Jersey's The Star-Ledger. I enjoy its well-rounded smatterings of international, national, state, and local news. Since I subscribe to their plan for extended coverage of Morris County, it arrives at the end of my driveway on Sundays and Thursdays. Two days a week are enough because I'd never be able to keep up with a daily.
The Star-Ledger does not have a stand-alone book section. On Sundays, they offer a books page covering four or five titles through a combination of staff and wire articles. But I don't subscribe because of books. If this page were to disappear, I'd sadly make a note and go on reading the rest of the paper. However, I would drop The Star-Ledger like a hot rock if they eliminated their local subscription plans or cut back on coverage of my county. I'm sure the Daily Record wouldn't mind picking up my business.
I don't regularly go to the Los Angeles Times or Chicago Tribune for news, so I'm not sure why I should concern myself with changes in their book coverage. If readers buy these papers specifically for their book sections, I can certainly see reasons for upset. They should complain to management or cancel their subscriptions.
In terms of job losses among journalists, I also have personal reasons for not caring much. During a previous life, I worked for a book publisher under a large media parent company with holdings in newspapers, radio, television, and the Internet. After eight years in books, I transferred to an online group. Two years later, my group was sold to another, larger media conglomerate which proceeded to lay us off one by one because we failed to bring in enough business to justify our existence. There was no hue and cry from sister companies, including the newspapers. I and my colleagues moved on to other jobs, and I have no doubt critics would do the same.
Much of the talk I've seen regarding the NBCC campaign boils down to saving criticism for criticism's sake, but I can't jump on the bandwagon. A newspaper is a business in the business of making money. If book sections fail to draw ample revenue or readership, of course there will be cutbacks. Asking us to sign a petition is a meaningless, albeit virtuous, gesture. If you really want to save book coverage in the newspapers you buy, cancel your subscription and tell them you're doing so because of failing book coverage. Or gather up the masses to demand stand-alone book reviews and subscription plans for that section. Or stop buying books from booksellers and publishers who never advertise in your paper and write letters explaining why you're no longer interested in their selections. Find a way to protest with your dollars.
And shame on the NBCC. In one breath, they trivialize the Internet and blogging. In the next, they ask for my help using the very media they scorn. Sorry, but I'm not moved.
