New York Times: “All science fiction has some element of titillation — a strategy of taking known facts and stretching them to the limits of credulity, for the purposes of both entertaining and enlightening.”
Gee, I thought the purpose of speculative fiction was, much like many other novels, to provide a narrative that reflected the human condition: sometimes using provocative ideas or meticulous atmosphere (a la China Mieville) and, in the case of hard sf, sometimes employing rigorous scientific justification to explain the imaginative scenario (and thus pushing the narrative well past “the limits of credulity”) (a la Robert Charles Wilson’s excellent Hugo-award winning novel, Spin). That Itzkoff sees science fiction from a failed English major’s dichotomous mind set (“entertaining and enlightening,” but not challenging, humanist or literary) is a great indication that he should probably recuse himself from literary criticism. His work for the NYTBR reads like a Strom Thurmond-like politician trying to use States Rights Democratic Party rhetoric (circa 1948) to run for President in the 21st century.
[RELATED: Levi Asher points out that Tanenhaus's team can't even get basic Beat history right. Maybe they truly are operating as if it's 1948 at the NYTBR.]
The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of Here They Come and Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (
My favorite line of Itz’s was his condemnation of Crichton for using science fiction to mix science with fiction: “The author makes no attempt to distinguish his extrapolations from established fact, and even seems to relish the ambiguity.” That’s right, he even seems to relish the ambiguity!
I’ve got no love for late, polemical Crichton, don’t get me wrong, but when book reviewers run around accusing storytellers of relishing ambiguity, it’s a clear sign that replacements are desperately needed.
Part of the fun of reading science fiction is in seeing how “real” science is melded with the real-sounding but “made up” speculative stuff. Jeez.
…I still don’t get all the seeming dislike toward Itzkoff. I agree the line you quoted isn’t a good one because it’s too dogmatic, and I think Itzkoff is making a mistake when his review implies science fiction should agree with science “fact.” (Think I’ll post more at my blog about why I think he did this.) But the dig at Bush as the “leading purveyor of alarmist fiction” is fucking great. And I think he’s correct about Crichton and his work overall. He’s written a few pretty good books and I love the movies Sphere and Coma, but he’s turned into a gargantuan illogical asshole, which has permeated his writing, and, apparently, his fictional characters.
Also, I don’t agree with: “That Itzkoff sees science fiction from a failed English major’s dichotomous mind set (”entertaining and enlightening,” but not challenging, humanist or literary) is a great indication that he should probably recuse himself from literary criticism.”
I’m not a failed English major; I’ve never even BEEN an English major. And entertaining and enlightening are my exact requirements for excellent writing, no matter the genre. In my opinion at least, science fiction shouldn’t be judged by different standards than any other genre; great writing should simply be great writing. It should defy genre. It should both illuminate and excite; humanism and “literaryism” aren’t required, neither is intellectualism. Requiring those often pushes literature into the Only For Aristocrats To Experience realm, a realm I cannot stand.
I don’t think anyone should be “recused from literary criticism” based on the criteria that person uses to judge written works. What are the qualifications for criticizing literature? Is a certain degree required, a certain taste, a certain wardrobe? I thought the ability to read was the only requirement. To me, everyone’s entitled to an opinion, no matter how ridiculous and uninformed some opinions may be. Most people shouldn’t need credentials to simply express their opinions, even in The New York Fucking Times.
Iztkoff seems meek, no-nonsense and yet funny in his reviews–I think that’s somewhat responsible for the attitudes toward him. Should he sound more full of himself? Hasn’t he only just started as a NYT reviewer? Give him some more time to mature at reviewing, try criticizing his reviews more constructively. Maybe he’ll listen. He doesn’t sound unreasonable to me.
I generally can’t stand reviewers, and TNYT leaves me cold. Yet here I am defending both. The world must be ending tomorrow.
Oh, and, Ed, don’t you mean “know-nothing” in the title? A “no-nothing” sounds like a something!
It’s hard for me to get worked up about it when he’s going after such a worthy target. Down with Crichton-ia!