Shelley Reid writes:
"Sorry to go on, but this insistence on the Artists in white hats and
the Critics in black just drives me batty."
If we must have a metaphor, how about writers as trees in an apple
orchard and critics turning their output into applesauce.
At the risk of seeming obstinate, I will restate my contention that
since literature is necessarily anterior to the criticism it
stimulates, the former must be of greater importance than the latter.
Nor is that all. Criticism (in general) can be called "creative" only
in the loosest sense. Typing the response you're reading is perhaps
being creative in this way, but that was not my meaning. I might
write something about one of Mike Resnick's stories, but then so
might any fool, not just your humble servant. (I expect Mike may have
come across a few such along the way.) Having and expressing an
opinion is one thing. But I cannot do what Mike does. Why? Because I
am NOT creative in the sense I reserve for writers, not critics.
Seeming to suggest that criticising his work is somehow on the same
plane as writing it is, to me, well, just not on. Great critics there
certainly are, but I would stoutly maintain that, insofar as they are
criticising what others have done, what they often could not do, they
do not belong in the same category as their subjects.
I hope this doesn't sound too combative, but there it is.
Now I shall take my place in the lists, choose a fresh lance, and
await the next onslaught.
Cheers.
WD
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