There was an article by Rowan Pelling in The Daily Telegraph recently. Since the article had to do with literary criticism, I took an interest in it.

According to Wikipedia, Rowan Pelling is a British journalist, broadcaster, writer and stand-up comedienne who first achieved note as the editor (or “editrice”, to use her term) of monthly literary/erotic magazine, the Erotic Review. She was a judge of the 2004 Man Booker Prize. She is now a columnist for the Daily Telegraph, is working on her first novel, and is the mother of two sons.

Ms Pelling’s article (her photo is above) is as follows:

“It is easy to recall the moments in my life when I’ve been so overwhelmed by sudden shame and remorse that I’ve prayed for a meteorite to smite me on the spot. One occurred this summer, as I walked into the green room of The Curious Art Festival at Hampshire’s Pylewell Park. I greeted a friend who gesticulated to the table behind him, saying, “You must know Fay Weldon.” Yes, yes, I know – by daunting reputation – the celebrated writer and feminist icon. You could even say she’s welded on my brain, because I gave a complete stinker of a review to an erotic novel written under a pseudonym; only to be told, once I’d submitted it, that the author was almost certainly Weldon. By then, I’d dismissed the book at “fearful tosh” and opined that it read “like one of those saucy stories written by schoolgirls and passed under the desks at RE”. I considered asking my editor to soften my view as I am generally a big fan of Weldon’s oeuvre. . . . However, my first duty as a reviewer was undoubtedly to the reader, and I wasn’t sure they would be well advised to allocate hard-earned cash to a pseudo-Dennis Wheatley sex romp. So the review ran in its unflattering entirety pointing me inexorably to the day when I would stand quaking before Weldon, wondering whether it was best to apologise, or hope that merciful amnesia had drawn a veil over the episode. But long experience tells me that praise, however extravagant, will be absorbed, or taken as one’s due, while criticism, however trivial, will remain engraved on the artist’s heart. So I grovelled and blushed and the leonine Weldon was magnanimity personified.”

Ms Pelling goes on to mention several instances where authors and film-makers reacted with a mixture of hurt and venom to savage reviews by other critics.

She goes on to say: “Yes, it’s far easier to sit at your desk and take an entertainment apart than to actually write a novel and, yes, any fool with a blog can stumble home drunk and say they loved a film. The difference, however, is that you don’t feel that accountable when you tell your Facebook friends you gave a great big “Meh” to The Grand Budapest Hotel. When you put those judgments into print, however, you feel enormous responsibility; but not primarily to the work’s creators. In an over-stimulated, time-poor world it is ever more the critic’s job to steer his or her readers firmly towards what most deserves their split attention. . . . What’s certain is that not only do critics need rhino hide to function, so do writers who post painstaking works of creativity out in the harsh spotlight. I understand the desire to call reviewers to task, but an offended writer will appear more powerful if they float above the controversy with regal detachment.”

She concludes by saying: “There’s one thing all critics know: you can’t take it back.”

To Ms Pelling’s article, I can only add: “Amen!”

My seventh novel is going to be an allegory.  It will be written in the first person and set mainly in the Middle East.  The themes will be philosophical, theological, psychological and social.  I have never written an allegory before (at least not knowingly), and I think it will be an interesting challenge.  But more importantly, I think an allegorical approach is the most effective way to communicate with the reader about the themes I have in mind.

In this instance, the indirectness of allegory is what appeals to me: themes are suggested to the reader without being specific, and the reader is at liberty to interpret the themes in her/his own way.  In my view, this approach adds richness to the presentation.

Wikipedia defines ‘allegory’ as: “a rhetorical device in which characters or events in a literary, visual, or musical art form represent or symbolize ideas and concepts. Allegory has been used widely throughout the histories of all forms of art; a major reason for this is its immense power to illustrate complex ideas and concepts in ways that are easily digestible and tangible to its viewers, readers, or listeners. An allegory conveys its hidden message through symbolic figures, actions, imagery, and/or events.”

A visual example is this painting, ‘Allegory of Music’, by Filippino Lippi; painted in 1475 to 1500:

I have to confess that I ‘don’t get it’ when looking at this picture.  Perhaps that is because it makes use of Greek mythological symbols which were popular during the High Renaissance.  But I concede that the painting does evoke feelings of motion, as with music.

Last night I watched the Ingmar Bergman film The Seventh Seal, which was released in 1957 in black and white.  I remember being a fan of Ingmar Bergman when I was in university, but I don’t think I ever saw this particular film before.  The film is considered a major classic in world cinema, perhaps because of its scenes and allegorical content.  While I certainly enjoyed watching it, I have to admit that it would not be a money-maker if it were released today.  In the film, Bergman transports the viewer to Sweden in the early Middle Ages.  The principal character is a knight who has returned home from a crusade a the time the Black Death is sweeping through Sweden.  The knight feels that his life has been wasted and fears for his death.  He wants to perform ‘one meaningful deed’, and longs to hear the voice of God.

In this scene from the film, the knight (on the right) offers Death his choice of chess pieces; Death chooses black.

The film is peopled with diverse characters: a woman who has been condemned to death for speaking with the devil; Death himself who play an extended game of chess with the knight; the knight’s wife who has waited for him all these years; there are religious zealots, criminals, actors, and immoral people.  For me, Bergman seems to be saying something like the following: God and the devil are invisible, and God may seem silent; death is inescapable; and ‘one meaningful deed’ may be enough.

Bergman is never specific in his points.  For me, this is the beauty of allegory.  The reader (viewer or listener) has to form his or her own conclusions.

In any event, this film gets one thinking.

I sent the following email to Jeff Bezos, Chief Executive of Amazon.com today.

Dear Jeff,

I have taken an interest in Amazon’s dispute with Hachette and various authors for two reasons.  I, myself, am a published author (five novels and two more in the pipeline).  I am also a senior management consultant.

First, let me say that as a buyer of books (and many other things, including mosquito-repellent bracelets), I find Amazon to be an excellent supplier: good prices, extraordinarily wide choices, very prompt delivery, and plenty of product information, including other customers’ reviews.

As an author, I am pleased to see my books presented in colour, thoroughly described and reviewed, and available from stock.  I am less pleased to see the price levels to which they are discounted for two reasons.  First, every dollar of discount Amazon offers to buyer means fifty cents out of my pocket.  It is in this sense that authors are not being used as ‘human shields’ by the publishers.  We aren’t hostages; we, too, are under attack!  And, second, I believe Amazon is ‘leaving money on the table’ with such large discounts.  In other words, prices are less elastic than Amazon apparently believes.  More on this later.

As I understand it, Amazon has two objectives in pursuing greater discounts from the publishers: one explicit and the other implied.  The explicit objective is to recoup the losses Amazon has recently suffered ($126 million net loss in the second quarter of this year). The implicit objective is to have nothing between the author and the reader.

I have no problem with the explicit objective – depending on how it is pursued.  The implicit objective is more complicated.  I can understand how Amazon would like to be the ‘transformational vehicle’ between the author’s output and the reader’s input.  The problem is that there is a huge collection of what Amazon probably regards as time-honoured baggage in that gap between the author and the reader.  Why doesn’t the author just sell his output to Amazon (for which s/he would be handsomely rewarded) and Amazon would produce (mostly) ebooks for readers (for which service it would be handsomely rewarded)?  A sensible objective, on the face of it.  But, there are powerful opposing forces which may be irrational, but will, nonetheless, be difficult for Amazon to overcome.

The first of these forces is that some readers (like me) love the sense of a physical book, and will not buy an ebook.  (Although, all of my novels are also available as ebooks.)  For me, the physical presence of a book while I’m reading it, and in knowing that it’s on my bookshelf, far outweigh the ‘convenience’ and lower cost of an ebook.  Will we – hard-copy addicts, who are currently in the majority – disappear over time?  Possibly.  But not for at least a generation.

Aside from physical printing, there are other tasks which lie in the gap between author and reader.  Amongst these tasks are author and book selection, editorial advice, editing, cover design, administration and a wide variety of sales, marketing and promotional services.  Some of these tasks can be carried out by the author at additional cost to the author, but many authors, particularly best-selling authors, would object to being ‘burdened’ with these tasks.  Is Amazon prepared to scale up or make acquisitions to ‘fill these gaps’ between author and reader?

Then, there is the whole contentions issue of literary/artistic/professional gatekeeping.  Currently, publishers and literary agents largely decide who and what gets published.  They may not always make the right choices, but the fact is that their choices are generally supported by professional critics and educated readers.  Is Amazon prepared to hire a host of these gurus, or would Amazon’s strategy be: ‘Let the Market decide!’  If Amazon would opt for the latter strategy, I suggest that the outcome would be catastrophic: a market saturated with low-quality, popular books: a situation which would not be tolerated by educators or educated readers.  It is wise to recall that literary gatekeeping grew up with the publishing industry out of demands by an educated market.

So, what would I, as a professional management consultant, advise Amazon to do?  I would advise Amazon to proceed very cautiously in its efforts to fill the gap between author and reader: a misstep could be punitive (from the market or from government).  I would recommend that Amazon raise its prices, across the board, by an average of 2.5% real for each of the next two years.  This 5% price increase will not (in my opinion) result in an equivalent reduction in sales.  Amazon is well known for its low prices and gradual, selective price increases will not affect that reputation.  Pessimistically, there could be a 2% decrease in sales from $80 billion to $78.5 billion.  $78.5 billion at 5% higher prices will yield almost $4 billion in additional annual profits.

This course of action would not only makes Amazon look very attractive to its shareholders; it would facilitate amicable agreements with publishers and authors; it would stop the criticism from the media and the marketplace; and would cause government regulators to lose interest.

Yours sincerely,

William Peace