Reading in Public No. 30: Cultural criticism through Auden's verdicts

Differentiating between judgment and taste, criticism and reviews

I fell in love with the poetry of W. H. Auden in 2008 during a class I took on Greek poetry in Greece. No, Auden is not a Greek poet. But my professor was an Auden fan and scholar and would often recite his works to us over dinner or perform dramatic recitations whenever we would visit ancient amphitheaters. This was the coolest class I have every taken, and I probably would have become infatuated with any poet I was introduced to in this manner.

Later that year, I did an independent study on Auden with that same professor. I needed one more poetry credit and liked the idea of going into depth on one poet rather than taking another survey course. In addition to poetry, I read Auden’s journalism and essays on criticism¹, and this study is when I first had the opportunity to really think about the art of literary criticism. Auden’s criticism was the first cultural criticism I encountered in my academic study and it opened my mind to thinking about different spheres for writing about books. Previously, I had only ever written about books in the academic sphere. In that world, criticism is written for other scholars and taste is left out of the equation—whether or not you like the texts you’re writing about is outside the scope of interest. Auden wrote about literary criticism in the cultural sphere. In his view, the cultural critic writes for the public and the potential readers of a book—not academics and, decidedly, not the author. Auden felt very strongly about this, writing that the critic’s “job is to tell the public what that work is, not tell its author what he should and could have written instead.”² This in particular has become something I’ve deeply internalized as a core tenet of my own reviews and criticism, and I try my best to avoid reviewing a book by comparing it to the book I wanted it to be.

Perhaps the most well-known aspect of Auden’s theory of criticism is his five verdicts for “adult readers.” We discussed these rigorously in my independent study, both because the verdicts themselves are infinitely helpful and because Auden’s provocative language around “the nursery stage” of reading simply must be unpacked. But after leaving undergrad, obtaining my MA, and entering the classroom, I had completely forgotten about these verdicts until I heard Anne Bogel talk about them with a guest on her What Should I Read Next podcast. I wish I could find the episode because I can’t remember in what context she brought it up, but I was so grateful for that reminder! I had submerged myself back in the world of writing about books in the academic sphere and neglected the value of reviewing in the cultural sphere. From that moment on I began thinking about Auden’s verdicts in my reviews, as well as introducing my students to the idea. It is a freeing framework to latch onto after years of being told by outsiders what books are good and why you should appreciate them.

So what are Auden’s five verdicts? Auden thought it was the work of literary critics to consider both “taste and judgment,” and saw the ability to distinguish between taste and judgment as the sign of a mature reader. In other words, for Auden, it’s essential in literary criticism to be able to differentiate between liking something and recognizing how well-done it is. What he does not do, however, is claim that any aspect of this is purely objective. Even determining whether something is “good” or “well done,” is a matter of judgment, not a matter of fact. In this view, some readers may have or may develop more discerning judgment than others, but there is still subjectivity involved. With that in mind, Auden reaches five “verdicts” mature readers can reach when considering any piece of art³:

1. I can see this is well done⁴ and I like it.

2. I can see this is well done but I don’t like it.

3. I can see this is well done and, though at present I don’t like it, I believe that with perseverance I shall come to like it.

4. I can see that this is poorly done but I like it.

5. I can see that this is poorly done and I don’t like it.

This framework is so simple and so helpful. And the more I think about it, the more good stuff there is to point out. One thing that’s fantastic about this framework is that it’s incredibly liberating. We don’t have to like a book just because it’s good! And we can love books even when we recognize that they’re pretty bad. How wonderful! And because everything is a scale, I personally like to think about these verdicts as axes of a chart rather than distinct boxes.

My unscientific attempt at plotting some well known books. Remember…both axes are subjective.

The one verdict that doesn’t fit neatly into the chart is verdict three. I have found the idea of not liking a book right now to be one of the most crucial and interesting observations in my own reading life⁵. The third verdict suggests that our own taste may be dependent on how much we are willing to give to a piece of art. I love that Auden uses the phrase “perseverance” as opposed to, say, “time.” He’s not arguing that what will transform the experience from didn’t like to like is merely reading the book again or gaining some distance or approaching it with more life experience. Instead, it’s an act of will-power in the face of a difficult or challenging text that may radically change our own opinion of it. I love this because I firmly believe that some texts demand more work from readers, and that this demanding nature is a feature of great literature, not a bug⁶. It’s more than okay for books to require effort from the reader in order to like and to get them. I appreciate Auden’s verdicts for giving me language to recognize when a book may be something I could like if I put in the necessary effort.

As I have been spending so much time thinking about what makes for good cultural criticism, my current major takeaway from Auden’s verdicts is that it’s essential for the critic to share both their taste and their judgment. A piece of criticism is incomplete without both. And doing both is hard! It took me a long time to be comfortable stating outright whether or not I like a book—it’s still the aspect of book reviews I hem and haw about the most! And it can be hard to get enough distance to explore the merits of a book outside our own personal taste or to even determine if a book is succeeding at its aim. But I firmly believe that good criticism must do both. I can’t care whether or not someone liked a book if they don’t also articulate how well the book achieved its own aims. And I can’t get to know how well my taste aligns with another critic’s if they won’t say declaratively whether or not they like something.

Perhaps this is my first major distinction between criticism and reviews. Reviews can exist purely in the realm of “I liked it” or “I didn’t” (though not all do) but criticism must include both a consideration of the merits and flaws of the work and a clear opinion on whether the reader liked the book.

I want to know what you think! What’s your opinion of Auden’s verdicts? What would your quadrants look like? Is it important to you to hear both taste and judgment when encountering book reviews?

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1. It was fascinating to read poetry by an author and also read that author critiquing other poetry. I want to seek out more authors who both do and critique because I think it’s a great way to practice thinking more deeply about books.

2. From “Making and Judging Poetry”

3. Citation from the Lawrence Public Library.

4. Auden uses the terms “good” and “trash,” but I prefer to think about it as well done and poorly done. This frees me from the idea that there is such a thing as objectively good and bad craft (thanks, Matthew Salesses!) and instead lets me consider the book’s beauty as a piece of art as well as how effectively it’s achieving its aims.

5. Beloved is a book that took extra perseverance to become a favorite, and I would probably like Trust Exercise and Ulysses more with greater perseverance.

6. Of course, I don’t want all my reading to be rigorous work. It’s also okay if your taste preferences lean towards books that require less (or more!) effort from the reader.