Judgement Day

The first time you publish a review, once the temporary excitement of the byline wears off, you are forced to confront an age-old question: What’s the point? You might get a pat on the back, a passing sense that you belong to a Republic of Letters, but it’s hard to shake material and spiritual realities: The poor prospects in regards to work and fulfillment, made worse by what, Dave Hickey calls, the inescapable fact that the critic is a parasite on the thing itself, the great novel or work of art whose vitality you draw from but can’t create yourself. Even seasoned masters of our down-low vocation can’t help but wring their hands and worry about their own irrelevance. It’s because they know their fear to be true: that criticism is in crisis.