Critics
First a simple lunch –
soup, salad, rolls and dessert
(and wine if we choose).
Then the book.*
We become critics when we read.
That's half the fun of it.
The other half is the pleasure of the word.
Prose can be poetry.
Our preferences are as diverse as our personalities.
What I like, you don't, and vice versa.
No book appeals to everyone,
just as no work of art is universally appreciated.
This particular book drew various reactions –
first "enjoyment" and then disappointment.
We agreed that the images were vivid
and the metaphors enlightening,
but the story dragged a bit.
The tragedy's resolution,
arriving at the tale's end, was anticlimactic .
Why had the author waited so long
to get the accused off the hook.
The ample evidence could have been revealed sooner, much sooner,
saving us from suffering endless descriptive passages.
Clearly, dangling was the writer's intent.
No one appreciated being dangled.
We wanted the case resolved posthaste,
with fewer stalling tactics.
"Get on with it,"
seemed the general opinion.
Critics should be aware
(alas, we sometimes are not),
criticism is infinitely easier than creation.
Creation is inspiration
mixed with plain hard work.
Authors, like all artists,
have their way with us.
We're simply along for the ride.
As critics we agreed –
a fine journey: long and well worth it.
"Snow Falling on Cedars" by David Guterson
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