Blogs and Stories
Exit the Critic
Plus: Check out Book Beast, for more news on hot titles and authors and excerpts from the latest books.
Amanda Rivkin/AFP/Getty
The Seattle Post-Intelligencer’s erstwhile book critic recalls his years covering our most literate city—including the question he dared ask Martin Amis and the Nobel winner who loved The Simpsons.
Up the hotel elevator I would head, then down the long hallway until I found the right room. Finally, I would knock on the door, then wait a few moments until it was opened by John Updike. Or Joan Didion. Or Stephen King. Or Caroline Kennedy. Or Terry McMillan. Or Greg Louganis. Or Katharine Graham. Or Ian McEwan. And then, once pleasantries had been exchanged, it would begin – the strangely intimate song-and-dance known as the author interview, usually lasting an hour, just the two of us in a hotel room, my questions, the author’s responses.
Alice Sebold signed her book at the close of the interview and then added a nifty caricature of a big dog along with an enthusiastic “WOOF!”
No more. My job as a newspaper book critic came to an abrupt end this week when the Seattle Post-Intelligencer (Washington’s oldest newspaper, established 1863) ceased publication on Tuesday, the latest casualty in the national newspaper implosion that also claimed the Rocky Mountain News just 19 days before. The P-I became the first major American metro paper to revert to an online-only presence, but seattlepi.com will operate with only a skeleton crew of 20 people, mostly younger staffers, plus a few star columnists turned freelance contributors, but no feature writers, no arts critics. We joined 150 fellow P-I journalists whose last interviews had the tables turned – exit interviews conducted by Hearst Corporation human resources personnel, some from as far away as Houston, discussing our severance packages, unemployment claims and other important facets of our newly jobless lives.
For more than a decade, I held the coveted book beat in a town that trades places every year or so with Minneapolis for the crown as “America’s most literate city.” This confirmed book lover, ever since the childhood discovery of the Hardy Boys, was in lit heaven, not only writing weekly book reviews but also interviewing and profiling countless authors. If a writer’s national book tour included the West Coast, it always included Seattle, since this great gray city of passionate readers not only boasts one of the country’s longest running big-name author series (Seattle Arts & Lectures) but also three flourishing independent bookstores with crowded calendars of nightly author events (University Bookstore, Third Place Books, and the legendary Elliott Bay Book Co., widely considered the national pioneer in author readings).
I was a direct beneficiary of Seattle’s literary largesse, offered the opportunity to interview, at one time or another, just about any author who succumbed to a publisher’s request to hit the road, plus many notables who live in the Seattle area, including such prominent authors as Tom Robbins, Sherman Alexie, Jayne Ann Krentz, Timothy Egan, Terry Brooks, Tess Gallagher, Erik Larson and David Guterson. The P-I did not have the once-traditional Sunday book pages – the Seattle Times produced almost all of the Sunday edition. But the P-I gave copious coverage to books and authors during the rest of the week, including a book page in the Friday entertainment tabloid magazine that spotlighted three authors with events in Seattle during the coming week. Deciding who would get those three spots was often a very tough call for me. P-I stories were also distributed across the country by the New York Times Wire Service, giving added clout to a Seattle paper that always played the role of feisty underdog, proudly wearing the cloak of “the writer’s paper” in this city.







TimBarrus
It's over. It's done. It's finished. Here's the gig. It was never as culturally relevant, or even relevant to people's lives as the people who reviewed books in the precious book beats insisted it was. They were like blacksmiths in the age of General Motors, and now it's General Motors turn, too. It wasn't like the book beats were going to pull the papers they were in out of financial failure. No one read the book beat. It was a beat populated by insiders of the club covering itself. Personally. I have never been more excited than to see that sacred cow go -- book publishing -- as it kicks and screams on its way to the shopping block. Off with their heads. Loving books is not a religion. It's a mania. Ohhhh, we're so pooooor. But they have seven million for Bush. Their disingenuous lies are the real scandal. Bush and the silver spoon in his mouth wins. But there's nothing for anyone else and we're not reading manuscripts this year go away you are not a nice ladylike personage like we are. Oh, please. Publishing has whispered let them eat cake for far too long. Its head should be collected from the guillotine and stuck on a spike in the middle of Manhattan. Marie Antoinette was far more generous than the mean, bitter, Arrogant Book Mafia (ABMs) women who run this pathetic business. It's going to whine all the way to its death and it will have to be severed at the neck before it shuts up. But the party in the palace is over. It's time to putcher Manolo Blahniks on, honey, face the music, and get in the apple cart. You are unnecessary. What you do is unnecessary. Your contribution to culture was a myth. Your greed was gargantuan. Your rituals in the temple far too clubby. You never listened. You only dictated. The cake was stale. No one could even perform the abstraction of representing himself. He had to have a temple priest do that for him. Because you are a closed shop. We needed actual sustenance. Not what you were feeding us from the same old New Yorker magazine group of tired old faces. What we got had no value to our lives. Your rules and regulations were all designed to keep you in power and to keep that power confined to the group. The club. The aristocracy. Updike is dead. Some of us are the little munchkins dressed in rags jumping up and down at the back of the mob and screaming kill them kill them kill them. And then burn their corpses in the roaring fire their books will make. I never thought I would live this long to see it bite the death it so richly deserves. http://le-too.blogspot.com -- Tim Barrus, Amsterdam
Jwayne54
Jeez Louise, Tim! Who peed in your Cheerios?
I don't think I have ever read one of your reviews, John, but I appreciate you nontheless, and think you had the best job ever. I love books, and people who read them, talk about them, and loan them to me (and vice versa). Best wishes on the next stage of your life.
Thank you.
As a first time user, your comment has been submitted for review. It can take anywhere from a few hours to a day or two for your comment to be reviewed, depending on the time of week and the volume of comments we receive.