Reading in Public No. 65: Why I can't accept the phrase "I won't accept criticism"
In which I take another internet phrase much too literally
I drafted this post towards the end of last year right after I read Stoner by John Williams. Readers, I did not like Stoner and—let me tell you—the internet did not like that opinion. I have never had more people in my DMs not just telling me why I was wrong, not just wanting to have a conversation, but telling verbatim: “I will not accept criticism of this book.” As somebody who loves to get critical about books, I quite frankly did not understand this sentiment and so I wrote a bit about why I actually enjoy engaging with criticism of my favorite books.
I’m not sure why I never published it. The end of one year and the beginning of the next are always busy for me so perhaps that’s why. But I think another factor was feeling like I was being defensive or even shadily antagonistic towards the readers who had messaged me. It was such an onslaught I got quite emotional about it, and I didn’t feel great about posting from that initial reactionary place. Whatever the case, I let this linger in my drafts for many months.
Fast forward to yesterday when I was listening to the Currently Reading podcast. This is a great book podcast where you can listen to smart women talk about books and the reading life, and get tons of reading recommendations along the way. In their episode this week, hosts Meredith and Kaytee talked about this very topic: books for which they won’t accept criticism. I decided it was time to add my own thoughts to this conversation and press publish. This post is not meant to pick on the hosts. I love Meredith and Kaytee and am a regular listener of their show. Their banter around topics such as these is lighthearted and they often approach them half in jest, but listening yesterday reminded me just how much this phrase irks me.
First, an additional addendum to my original post because one thing Meredith and Kaytee do really beautifully is break down exactly what they mean by this phrase and how it differs from favorite books. As they explained, it’s not that they cannot hear criticism of any and all favorite books. Rather, there’s something specific that sets these few special books apart, and it was interesting to hear them discern what that difference might be. What I gather from their conversation is that these no-criticism books are so close to the reader’s soul, that critiquing the book actually feels to that reader like a critique of the soul.
I can understand this, but it still differs vastly from my own experiences. Maybe I’m hardened after years of putting some of my favorite books into the hands of smart and snarky teenage girls and having to lead them page by page through these texts for weeks on end. Or maybe my feelings differ because I came to my love of books largely through academic study in which tearing a book apart and putting it back together was a reverential act. Whatever the origin story, conversational criticism around the things I love, only makes me love them more. Even if it initially feels like a gut punch, I welcome criticism of my beloved books because engaging with earnest, good faith criticism (and I fully acknowledge this is not always the case with criticism) makes me all the more passionate about them. Perhaps this feeling is rare among readers, but if you feel the same—or want to understand why some of us can’t abide the idea of unacceptable criticism—this one is for you.
What follows is the essay I wrote in December, with a few additions and edits.
Recently I’ve noticed an uptick in online readers expressing that they “will not accept criticism” on favorite books. I’ve heard this on Instagram and podcasts, and most notably (and personally) had it said to me directly when I have shared my less than glowing feelings about some of the internet’s favorite books.
I understand that no one likes to hear their favorite things denigrated. As readers, our love can run so deep that dismissal of a beloved book might feel like dismissal of our very person. Not to mention that negative reviews are far too often relayed in an I’m-just-smarter-than-you sort of tone, and nobody enjoys being talked down to.
But I have a real problem with the idea of not accepting criticism (yes, it’s just a phrase I’m taking too seriously…we’ve been here before, and I’ll address that later).
One thing that I’ve learned over a decade of sharing books online is that when certain phrases become prominent, they can start to shape the way in which people engage with books. Think about the way we all say TBR and DNF now—and how that actually changes the way we think about and implement our reading. The use of the phrase “five star read” makes us read differently because it keeps us on the hunt for that elusive, formerly unnamed feeling—not to mention how the language of star ratings themselves change our reading. Even the conversation around tropes in books has resulted in books being written so readers can easily name the tropes. The phrases we use to talk about our reading lives have power!
Which is why I simply will not accept the phrase “I will not accept criticism on this book.” Discussion, interrogation, and dialogue are what make the analysis of art worthwhile. Allowing varying views to add a piece to the puzzle of our own understanding is enriching, not limiting. I think a lot of readers already shy away from sharing critical opinions about books to the detriment of themselves, other readers, and the books. I’m not suggesting that every reader needs to seek out negative reviews of their favorites or that people should jump on every opportunity to hate on the books others love. But I do believe there are some very good reasons to engage with criticism of the books we love and today I’m sharing how it benefits me.
Intellectual friction increases passion. When I come into contact with a book opinion that’s different than mine, it creates a sort of intellectual friction. My own thoughts but up against something sticky and new, and I’m forced to think through my own opinions and respond to a differing view. Even if it’s just in my head (and it often is), the process of fleshing out an argument in response to an opposing opinion and of considering the most persuasive rhetoric I would use to convey my appeal makes me love the book even more. I already loved Jesmyn Ward’s most recent novel Let Us Descend when I read it, but seeing so many reviews criticizing the use of supernatural elements forced me to really engage with that choice. What did this add to the book for me? Why did I think it worked so well? How did these moments enhance what I took away from the text? It wasn’t until I had taken the time to formulate my answers to those questions in response to the negative reviews that I fully understand my own passion for the novel.
It reveals reading blindspots. Being confronted with a critique of a beloved book can also mean confronting my own reading blindspots. What might first come to mind here is potential problematic language and representations, and that’s certainly part of it. But I’m thinking even more of potential blindspots towards craft and style choices. I recently had a conversation about a book I really liked with my friend MJ Franklin. He didn’t like the book because he felt that the characters were flat, and reflecting on it, I agreed. In fact, our conversation made me realized I can have a tendency to overlook flat characters if a book is doing something compelling thematically or structurally. And that’s fine! Our conversation didn’t make me like the book any less, but it did help me see a blindspot in my own taste which will help me be a better book reviewer.
It helps pinpoint what we love. Personally, I find it more difficult to precisely articulate what about a book made me love it. At least it’s much harder to do that than identify why I dislike a book. When another reader criticizes a favorite book of mine, I often recognize the specific things they dislike as the exact craft choices that made the book exceptional to me. Through critiques of books I love that accuse authors of “telling instead of showing,” I have learned that I actually want an author to tell me things! Recently I read a review of Persuasion (a book I adore) that I completely disagreed with. But I so valued reading this review because it helped me understand that what I love about this book is that we don’t get to see Anne and Wentworth as a young couple or even watch them fall in love again through much actual interaction. It’s all yearning and pining and we readers get to fill in the romantic attachment of their youth ourselves. I didn’t fully realize that this was what made me love the book so much until I saw someone’s criticism of it.
It’s good for the book. As my friend
has been shouting from the rooftops for years: “talking shit about books is good for books.” I think sharing that I didn’t like John Williams’s Stoner made Stoner my most “recommended” book of 2024—so many people told me they were going to read it because I hated it. If you want your beloved books to get into the hands of more readers, it’s actually a huge benefit for them to get some critical reviews. Readers love being in the know and part of the conversation. Reading about someone’s distaste for a well loved book gives that book a new life.I know that “I will not accept criticism on this” is largely just an internet catchphrase and that many people who use it aren’t actually resisting engaging with good faith criticism. But the more we use such phrases, the more they calcify into the truth. Who are we do accept or deny another person’s response to a piece of art? It’s dangerous to shut ourselves off from criticism of the things we love; it’s good to be able to change our minds. But beyond that, if we don’t accept criticism of our favorites, we’re missing out on an opportunity for fun and banter and healthy disagreement and getting to know ourselves and our fellow readers all the more deeply. Perhaps I won’t convince anyone to abandon this phrase and—don’t worry—I won’t go out of my way to criticize readers’ most revered books. But I will continue to welcome criticism of the books I love and I hope you’ll continue alongside me as we deeply interrogate the texts we read.
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Happy reading!
Sara
I also cannot stand this phrase. A lot of books I've read lately have a theme that basically goes something like, "certainty is dangerous and curiosity is necessary." I feel this in my bones and I think that's what you're saying here too. How many times has a bookclub discussion expanded my view of a novel, both in positive and negative ways? Almost always. And I'm a better reader for it.
Plus, this phrase seems endemic of our culture right now...disagreeing with someone respectfully is an art form that is dying. If you truly felt completely certain that a book was above all criticism wouldn't that opinion withstand even the harshest critique? It's a false confidence that can't bear to hear a dissenting view.
Echoing a few comments above I think that this desire to block criticism is in part a reaction to how bad faith so much criticism is. I agree with you on this: “tearing a book apart and putting it back together was a reverential act”. But I see almost no one around me who puts anything back together. To criticize something then leads to it being “problematic”, which then supersedes any other thing about it and I believe that THAT is why people feel they will just plug their ears instead because to acknowledge any criticism is to now be “complicit” in whatever that is unless you eschew it. “This book/person/show/movie/article is BAD and something-ist, denounce it or you are also bad.” I think that making it a joke (“please don’t ruin this lol”) or plugging the ears is a passive way of escaping that dynamic.
Also, could be that those of us who enjoy good critique and find it strengthens our understanding and appreciation are just abnormal 😆