Seriously, there is surely little point taking potshots at bloggers: the internet is what it is, a blessedly democratic realm amidst which, if one sifts, one will find plenty worthwhile, free, emancipated from agenda or influence. I do, of course, agree that it’s unfortunate if exceptional critics are dissuaded from plying their trade due to a lack of financial incentive, but a) most critics are tiresome blatherers doing nothing new or interesting, and b) they are hamstrung, in the main, by having to adhere to the publishing calendar.

This story does have a suitably ironic ending. As noted above, The Guardian got John Self to do a blog post in which he very kindly linked to KevinfromCanada as an example. It was a fine piece (I haven’t commented there since Leyla is off on one of her rants about me in the comments) — and the link has already produced more than 100 hits on the blog. So from this selfish perspective at least, Stothard has succeeded in getting more than 100 Guardian readers to at least sample KfC — I could hardly ask for more.

I think the main issue is quite simple: there are now many excellent blogs, such as this one, John’s, Max’s, Trevor’s, Will’s, Kimbofo’s, Tom’s, plenty more (it’s hard to list them all, which speaks volumes) that make the need to crouch deferentially at the foot of the self-appointed literature doyen’s feet and humbly await a definitive verdict non-existent. We now go to critics entirely based on merit, not reputation. Personally, I tend to find the reviews on my favoured blogs far more engaging and reliable than the vast majority of newspaper and magazine copy, all without the nagging thought that the author of a piece may well be drumming up a little florid, biased advert for someone they know rather well. Most blogs are enthusiastic messes, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but many are exceptional. And I can think of only Adam Mars Jones as an essential newspaper critic now.

Thanks for the thoughtful response to my question. While I abhor the mass-generated how-many-stars-would-you-give-this-book? approach to criticism (and to be honest, I’m tired of being pestered to ‘rate’ things all the time – the person who came up with this system should have his library card revoked), I do tend to seek out book reviews from avid readers, like you, rather than ‘professionals’. I know in my own line of work that those of us who LOVE what we do are often better suited to evaluate and, oddly enough, are more accurate in our assessment of the work of our colleagues than those whose job it is to be critical. While I certainly see the need for Stothard and his kind, I would hate it if I could not turn to KNOWLEDGEABLE bloggers, like you, for a review that’s not motivated by a paycheque. And, as I believe John rightly points out, with the amount of space given over to reviews by respected papers shrinking (I still mourn the loss of the Globe & Mail Book Section), often blogs like yours are the ONLY place some books get reviewed!

From my point of view, Stothard does raise a legitimate point — those who supply literary criticism for pay are finding their market is shrinking. As John Self points out in the post, however, there are quite a few blogs (I would like to think this is one and apppreciate that he cited it) which are supplying (free) versions of the same thing that in their own way are every bit as good.

I would like to think that this should be a “both/and” not “either/or” proposition. Certainly, the Times Literary Supplement which Stothard edits prints reviews from academics who are far more qualified than I am — although they tend to pay less attention to fiction than some of us might want. And reviewers at major newspapers in the UK, US and Canada offer insights of value, even if I might disagree with them at times. I still read them.

Good bloggers add to this mix. I write reviews from the “reader” point of view — why did I choose to read this book? what did the author set out to do? how did she or he fare in that quest? does the book offer value to potential readers? (sometimes) does this novel stand up to the author’s reputation? can I raise subjects for debate for those who have already read the book? what was the jury thinking when they longlisted this book ? I freely admit that is hardly an academic approach to criticism — nor a mass-media one, where reviewers need to supply more data on what is in the book than I choose to do here because they are addressing a general reader. On the other hand, I think most regular visitors have an idea of my tastes (biases?) and return because they appreciate my thoughts, even if they want to disagree with them. And those who arrive at this site off a title or author search (and there are a lot who fit that category) are already interested in the book in question — I’d like to think that my thoughts give them a perspective to consider. And, with most titles, if they choose to delve into the comments they will find a spirited and worthwhile debate (good comment debates are one area where blogs excel in a way that academic journals and mass media simply don’t offer value).

Stothard raises a legitimate point in that the market for the paid critic is a shrinking one. And he is right as well that there is abuse in the “free” critical market (from my point of view, most specifically in mass-generated Amazon reviews, but that’s another question). On the other hand, I believe that visitors here are fully capable of making the critical assessment of whether I am making sense or not. And if I am not making sense, I suspect they won’t return.

I’m not sure if you or your readers have seen this article, but I came across it today on Twitter:

http://m.guardian.co.uk/ms/p/gnm/op/view.m?id=15&gid=/books/2012/sep/25/books-bloggers-literature-booker-prize-stothard&cat=books#.UGSA8y8kStE

Just wondered what people thought of it. Seems to me that the Booker Judges are just not pleased with opinions that might contradict theirs.

“I seem to have developed an intense opposition to spending time on any book that I’m not getting a good deal out of, even if I actually quite like it.”

My issue seems to be the exact opposite — having decided that a book is worth trying, I feel a need to finish it, even if the experience is proving disappointing. I guess the notion is that I will learn something that might help me avoid the mistake in future.

Actually, I’m happy I have the time to be able to do that. I can remember when I was writing a book column and interviewing a lot of authors, I had to begin (and finish) a lot of books that had only marginal interest for me. Time for reading was much more constricted then and I can remember longing to be able to have my schedule determined by my interests (flawed though some of them might prove to be) rather than what the current marketing schedule dictated.

That was certainly a factor in my decision not to take on the Booker longlist this year. While I have read it all for some years, the last two years in particular reminding me of “book column” days — I found myself reading quite a few books that I wasn’t even curious about. This year’s jury is better than 2011 but when only one out of the five that I read makes the shortlist, I’d have to say it reflects divergent tastes. I’ll read Moore, Mantel and Self — Tan and Thayil will only get read and reviewed here if one of them happens to win. I have read every Booker winner and that is not something I intend to abandon.

I’m quite looking forward to Umbrella, despite some of the negative opinions and my own early concerns about the novel. The Giller longlist this year is very story-tilted (that’s not a criticism) and I’m happy to take on a novel that exercises some different portions of the brain, which seems to be a challenge that Umbrella meets.

Why did I abandon it then? I seem to have developed an intense opposition to spending time on any book that I’m not getting a good deal out of, even if I actually quite like it. That may seem perverse, and there may be an element of self-deception in it (perhaps it’s more to do with wanting to get through books as quickly as possible, and justifying that in any way I can). I felt the same way about Lawrence Norfolk’s John Saturnall’s Feast, which is published today and which I expect to see lots of praise for in the coming weeks. I read 100 pages of it. It’s a good solid historical novel, well-written and without obvious faults. But I didn’t get that much out of it – and more notably, after his last book, I expected something more ambitious from Norfolk. Interestingly, I found out in an interview with him last weekend that he had indeed started something more ambitious – a novel called The Levels – and had spent five years on it before giving up in sheer exhaustion and inability to pull the elements of it together. I feel that, despite its failure, I’d rather have read that one than the one he did finish.