Recently, Nick Hornby revealed his agreement with The Believer (as quoted in a review of his new book, The Polyphonic Spree): “that if it looks like I might not enjoy a book, I will abandon it immediately, and not mention it by name.” (For reference purposes, the original Julavits anti-snark manifesto can be found here.)

A few months ago, the incomprable Emma Garman posted a column at Maud’s in which she defended snark, simultnaeously focusing in on her dismay with James Wood’s notion of “hysterical realism” while expressing her belief that “the boldly negative critique may be the only weapon available for stemming the tide of mediocre writing offered by the corrupt book publishing industry and its shadowy ally, the creative writing program.” Garman suggested that snark might be used to curb the tide of hysterical realists and that there was nothing shocking about the “savage” results seen through Dale Peck, et al.

More recently, Randa Jarrar quibbled with Neal Pollack, suggesting that politics is an inseperable aspect of fiction. Maud too weighed in quite notably in on Pollack’s hypocrisies. The anti-snark position was, in some sense, transposed to novels.

All of these concerns about the limits of fiction and fiction reviewing, whether self-imposed or natural, trouble me. Particularly in an age when environmental factors in such areas as politics and television exist to hinder freedom of expression. It seems to me that regardless of whether you agree or disagree with Dale Peck, Michiko Kauktani, or Caryn James, the idea that a negative review should be excluded, let alone discouraged, is anathema to what I’ve always considered to be a duty of good, honest journalism: take no prisoners when you’ve got compelling evidence backed up by multiple sources.

Granted, when it comes to book reviews and literary criticism, we’re dealing with a format that is more subjective than other formats. And that’s fine. Because the more subjective you get, the greater the latitude you have in expressing an informed opinion. Or so the theory goes. Inevitably, there are some reviewers (and novelists) who take the reading duties personally — sometimes, too personally. But, to use Julavits’ Wood-Smith example, having Wood apply his sensibilities to a novel outside his usual canon is instructive to both critic and novelist alike. Wood can better understand why he dislikes Zadie Smith’s style, Smith (if she has the fortitude) can pay attention or disregard, and the prospective buyer/reader of the Smith book can have a different take from the others. Everybody wins. The issue here is whether honesty should be compromised because it’s perceived by a set of people as “mean-spirited” or “self-serving.”

I’m singling the Hornby-Julavits-Pollack mentality out (and not necessarily their output as authors) because I firmly believe that we’re starting to see a troubling shift in the way that writers pen, review and appreciate fiction. There is a new political correctness at work in the literary world which stems from this McSweeney’s feel-good schtick, which is not unlike Tom Hanks in its insufferable cheeeriness. A mandate being bandied about that fiction (and fiction reviewing) should stick to the safe n’ sane route, that everyone is a winner, and that the more unpleasant realities of bad novels, heavy-hitters striking out and publishing in general are best left unmentioned.

Which is a bit like denying that the homeless exist or not saying “Aw shit!” when you stub your toe.

More importantly, it’s the kind of attitude that fails to take in the big picture. The attitude that a book can be nothing but the bee’s knees fails to acknowledge problem solving basics: first identifying its problems and then coming up with a few possible solutions for future authors to use or discard as they see fit. Is it not positive to identify a work of fiction that is “bad” and, from this “negative” standing, reinforce what is good and remain supportive and passionate in the process? Is it not good to point out certain things that a book critic may have a problem with so that the critic in turn develops a greater understanding of her own sensibilities and an active reader mining the reviews gets a few ideas? The answer, I would suggest, lies in being constructive, rather than turning pure white or jet black, even when the critic is faced with a style or novel type she faces.

Conversely, is it not self-serving for a reviewer such as Hornby to ignore the “uglier” side of the equation because he doesn’t want to piss anybody off? The interesting thing is that review etiquette always seems to come from novelists, rather than readers, MFAs or critics. For my money, if the publishing markets can afford to be ruthlessly competitive, if they can afford to be curt so they can get through their slush piles (or in the case of McSweeney’s, not even have the courtesy to respond at all), then a nasty book review is a walk in the park by comparison.

[RELATED: Can someone please stop J-Franz from talking?]

[ALSO RELATED: For this overview, I had also intended to reference YPTR’s comments on the Hornby book, which responds to the Salon article at length, but I completely blew it on this point. Hopefully, the Rake will forgive me.]

While the Complete Review quite rightly lays into Tanenhaus for his despicable fiction antics over the year (no brownies for you!), Dave Eggers’ continued irrelevance shows off its true colors in a New Yorker review (courtesy of the Rake, a classier bloke than me). Beyond Eggers’ remarkable ignorance of Broadway (or even off or off-off Broadway), his lack of appreciation for Life of Brian, and his narrow view of Python as merely “fourth-wall” humor resides the more troubling dismissal of Doestoevsky’s Notes from Underground as “a very weird book, meandering.” We hate to judge a person solely on their cultural tastes (well maybe not), but we have to ask. This is the man who’s supposed to shepherd “indepedent” publishing?

Like anyone else during the holidays, we’re trying to sustain the momentum. But the brain oozes out of our ears, and we have a good theory that it’s turned into decades-old chop suey. So permit us a steadfast determination to beat the rap and avoid repeating ourselves, which we’ve been doing a lot of lately. Please visit the fine folks on the left until we return. Probably in a little less than a week. We’ll try and answer emails.

TO: All Employees
FROM: The Management
RE: Christmas Party Deportment

As you know, the Company will be hosting a Christmas Party (hereinafter “Shindig”) this Friday. While your attendance at the Shindig isn’t mandatory, please be advised that we have not yet distributed your holiday bonuses and that, while we are not legally permitted to adjust for certain factors that strike us as equitably measured, Shindig-related behavior and general social networking opportunities may be factored in to inflate your Bonus across a broader plane (hint hint).

The Shindig is designed to not only stroke the egos of our Clients and Regular Customers (hereinafter “Guests’) during the Holiday Season (hereinafter “Season”), but as an opportunity for you to demonstrate your loyalty to the Company. Should the Shindig prove insufferable for both Company employees and Guests alike, we have provided bare-chested bartenders of both sexes, copious food and alcohol, and canapés which can be plucked from the backs of svelte and starving models (hereinafter “Modular Furniture”).

During the Shindig, many unscrupulous characters will say “Hello!” and may wish to talk with you, often inviting you to sit on the Modular Furniture. These Guests may arrive at your desk and wish to engage in small talk. While most Guests are benign, others wish to pry personal information for you or even extract inner workings about the Company, often spreading what they learn through a filthy conduit known as Gossip. In extreme cases, they may try to kiss you under a mistletoe. Lead them on, if you must. But keep your conversation tight.

Please be sure to keep your ears open and carefully modulate your alcohol intake so you don’t reveal too much about yourself or the Company’s inner workings. The last thing we want is our Guests to be more curious about us. And you are mere cogs in the machine. Also, remember! Loose lips sink ships. In the event that you find yourself babbling incessantly, we ask that you ingest a Silence Pill. The Silence Pill will knock you out for twelve hours, thus preventing one of the malicious Guests from learning too much about you or the Company. (Should you anticipate a need to be unconscious for more than twelve hours, additional pills are available at Human Resources.)

If you discover one of our Guests is suspicious, please be advised that we are initiating a partnership with the Department of Homeland Security, where we plan to arrest first and ask questions later. The DHS will ensure that all questionable Guests are suspected of being thieves and corporate terrorists. Should a Guest strike you as eccentric, inordinately social, intelligent, or extrahuman, please do not arouse suspicion! Approach him carefully. Don’t be alarmed! Experience has suggested the remote possibility that these people may call you by your first name! If you get into a pinch, the Modular Furniture will stand up and take a Suspicious Guest down with several jujitsu moves.

Be on the lookout and avoid risks, even the most minor ones! Your safety depends on it! Our best wishes for the holiday season.

The good Dr. Jones has been outstanding enough to chronicle David Lodge’s appearance at the Chicago Humanities Festival.