• GalleyCat has one-upped Rex, crossing his tees by collating several major top ten lists, but referring (and rebirching and even ‘oking again) to each title by number of citations and moving violations. The Plot Against America is, predictably enough, in the tops for proper gravedigging.
• Sean Connery’s ghostwriter needs to watch 65 films and die in the act of writing as part of his work. And, yes, that includes The Presidio and Highlander 2, which means dismarkharmony and shitheads all around.
• Local boy done good well done medium rare Daniel Handler talks with the Chronicle about the Lemony Snicket movie, snickering a bit over a few ades on what it’s like to hand over the reins, dear enough for the holiday season.
• Stephen Ambrose? Doris Kearns Goodwin? You’re just scratching the surface and applying the iodine when the skin breaks, sweetheart. The Chronicle of Higher Education has four more plagiarists. Which is a little late because the presidential election was last month.
• The Detroit Free Press sees recipes everywhere. Better than dead people, I suppose. Of course, any steady spatula user knows that they can be found most frequently in the kitchen, often sinking beneath Khartoum.
• The position for the California poet laureate is now open. Qualified candidates must bench-press 250 pounds and pump you up.
• Bob Bernie spends a weekend with Cynthia Ozick.

Ursula K. Le Guin: “When I tried to suggest the unwisdom of making radical changes to characters, events, and relationships which have been familiar to hundreds of thousands of readers all over the world for over thirty years, I was sent a copy of the script and informed that production was already under way. So, for the record: there is no statement in the books, nor did I ever intend to make a statement, about ‘the union of two belief systems.’ There’s nothing at all about the ‘duality of spirituality and paganism,’ whatever that means, either.” (via Neil Gaiman.)

Inspired by Cinetrix, here are the films I haven’t seen on the Top 100 Overlooked Films of the 1990s (or at least those I haven’t seen in the Top 50) and the reasons why:

• 10: Look, man, I’ve seen everything else Peter Weir has done. The Cars That Ate Paris, The Mosquito Coast, everything. You’ve got to leave me one of his good ones, right?
• 14: Because I’ve always suspected that there’s a moment in this Steven (Schindler’s List) Zaillian movie where Liam Neeson pops in and cries, “How many pieces on this chessboard could I have sacrificed?”
• 16: Tom Hanks needs to be deactivated.
• 21: Alan Rickman works best as an evil Eurotrash bad guy or a sad sack complainer near the end of his rope. But a sensitive Alan Rickman? Sorry, can’t deal.
• 30: Two words: Chick flick.
• 33: Okay, I’ll confess. I’m forever biased towards the Shirley Temple version, to the point where I’ll accept no substitute.
• 39: Something about the title always struck me as suspicious.
• 45: But it’s one of the only Miyazaki films I haven’t seen!
• 48: Robert DeNiro after about 1983 doesn’t interest me anymore. Even with Chazz involved. Sorry.
• 50: Kevin Costner plus kid equals some sick pederastic fantasy or bad idea. At least in my book. Even if it was directed by Clint Eastwood.

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.]