Heroic Writing, part 28: Meaningful Critiques

If you do a lot of writing, sooner or later there’s a good chance that someone will ask you to look over something they’ve written and give your opinion on it.  This can be a bit challenging, especially if you’ve never had to evaluate writing before, and there’s something of an art to doing it in a way that can actually help the recipient without, simultaneously, offending him.  I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I am a master at this; I will, however, share the techniques that I’ve found most useful and explain why they work.

Most of the writing you will be asked to look at in will fall into one of two categories: character biographies and stories.  Other forms of writing exist, and you may even encounter some of it in Angel Falls, but biographies and stories will make up the vast majority of everything you see.  With that in mind, the first thing to be aware of is something we’ve mentioned before: the writing you are looking at is going to be something that the author has invested a great deal of time and energy into.  While it may not have quite the same emotional investment as a living, breathing child, it is still significant enough that treating it as such wouldn’t be amiss.

When I started writing narrative reports for parent-teacher conferences, the first thing my supervising teacher drilled into me was something he called The Sandwich Method and what I sometimes like to think of (in my more cynical moments) as The Mary Poppins Method.  This is the generally accepted method of presenting a critical report about a student who needs significant work in one or more areas, and it can be broken down into three basic components: first, provide a compliment; next, dig into the things that need improvement; at the end, close with more positive remarks.  The reason this method has gained so much traction with educators and psychologists alike is simple: it works.  It is not, however, a foolproof method, nor can it be applied without at least a few important caveats.

The key to The Sandwich Method is the idea that any critique ought to begin and end on a positive note; this is also the point at which most critiques fail, because it is easier to drum up a meaningless comment than it is to really examine a piece in order to find something positive to say about it.  The key to any compliment is to make sure that it is meaningful- I am not going to compliment someone on, for example, having spelled difficult words correctly unless I know that it is an issue the author has been struggling with and I can see that he’s made progress.  I might compliment someone on the ease of reading his story, especially if the story flowed from beginning to end without any notable hiccups; if so, I would also want to elaborate on what I thought were particularly elegant passages or what word choices felt particularly evocative.  The goal, basically, is to put the person who is getting your critique into a receptive mood, and this is important because the next section of your critique will likely put him on the defensive.

After you’ve said something nice, it’s time to get down to the nitty-gritty of what needs to be improved.  Even if you’ve said some nice things leading up to this point, this can be tricky.  Some critics find this portion of the exercise so difficult that they forgo it altogether; others become overly pedantic and lose themselves in minutiae which are, ultimately, meaningless in terms of the overall narrative.  Either approach is, at best, unhelpful and, at worst, actually counterproductive.  As with the initial compliment, criticisms should be aimed at the narrative- how the characters fit together and how well their personalities fit, how believable (within the conventions of the story or world) the plot is, and how easily one point joins to another.  Just as compliments should avoid lingering on mechanical issues, criticisms also should not belabor details that would be better resolved by careful editing except, possibly, to note that they do get in the way of fully enjoying the story.  A basic rule of this level of the critique is that if you identify an issue, you should also present some sort of solution, even if the solution is the painful suggestion that a section of the narrative needs to be completely rewritten.  Be as specific as you can- there is little that is less helpful than simply saying that something is awful and should be rewritten, after all- but don’t allow yourself to get trapped by details that are, inherently, not central to the plot.

Finally, go back and say another nice thing about the narrative you read.  Again, your compliment needs to be meaningful; simply thanking someone for remembering to tie their shoes is not helpful and diminishes the impact of what you’ve already written; similarly, gushing about how superior a story is when it’s clearly awful is also unhelpful.  As with the critical element of your review, your compliment should be balanced and meaningful, lingering most on the things that were done best, but not glossing over the things that need to be worked on.

The reason this method works so well is that it avoids one of the most nefarious traps of critical analysis: by using The Sandwich Method, you avoid setting yourself up as the subject’s adversary.  Because you start with a meaningful compliment, in fact, you align yourself as a clear collaborator, thus giving your criticisms more weight.

Some commenters have gone on record saying that they believe this is disingenuous or even outright dishonest; while I can understand the sentiment, it’s important to note that, done correctly, this method is, in fact, rigorously honest and every statement made should bear scrutiny.  Other critics occasionally feel that they have no need or obligation to say anything positive, and, by and large, they’re correct- there is no legal, binding requirement for anyone to ever say anything nice, after all- but setting one’s self in the position of an abusive critic is unlikely to get your message heard, as the author is most likely to look at what you’ve written and dismiss it as the ravings of a misanthropic bastard.

Here are a couple more things to consider if you are critiquing another author’s work: first, understand the genre that you are critiquing.  If the story is a horror story and you approach it as a My Little Pony fairytale, you’re going to have problems.  Generally, any given genre has conventions that define it; granted, those standards may be very broad, as in the case of superheroic fiction, but they exist.  Try to be aware of those standards when you write your critique.

Second, try to avoid making assumptions; check that what you write is supported by the text you’re reading or, at least, by a text that is generally accepted.  If you insist on referencing materials that the other author may not have access to, there’s a good chance that you’ll come off sounding like a self-important dick and, further, you run the risk, again, of setting yourself in an antagonistic or adversarial role.  If you think you have an important point, but the text does not directly support your interpretation, consider phrasing it as a question; this will allow the author to clarify his position without forcing him on the defensive.

Third, try and divorce your critique of an author’s work from a critique of the author himself.  There is nothing wrong with identifying weaknesses in an author’s submission, but when you then transfer those weaknesses to the author himself, he is likely to turtle up.  A person who feels that he is being attacked, whether you meant to do so or not, is unlikely to be receptive to your advice.  Depending on how aggressive your critique was and how confident the other author is, you may find yourself in a flame war that neither of you benefit from.  By limiting your statements to commentary on the text and making sure they’re backed up by fact- or clearly labelled as opinion- you create a more copacetic environment in which the person you are critiquing can see you as a collaborator rather than a castigator.

Finally, realize that you are going to have bad days.  Sometimes you will- either as the person writing the critique or as the person receiving it- stick your foot in your mouth.  At that point, it’s probably best if you don’t chew- rather than belaboring a point that has engendered negative feelings, back off and give yourself time to cool down.  At the end of the day, you may have to ask yourself what is more important to you: being right or being compassionate.  My advice- and it’s given in the spirit of someone who sometimes fails at taking it, himself- is to err on the side of compassion.