Frank Wilson, Retired Inquirer Book Editor: Interview by Nannette Croce
Frank Wilson is the recently retired book editor for The Philadelphia Inquirer, where he assigned reviews and covered the book beat since 2000. As someone who has enjoyed the Inquirer’s Sunday reviews for many years, I’m now enjoying his blog, BOOKS, INQ.: THE EPILOGUE . Frank was kind enough to take time out recently to answer questions on books, reviewing, publishing, and changes to the newspaper industry.
R&T: How long were you The Inquirer’s book editor, and could you describe briefly the route that took you there?
Wilson: I was named book editor on Oct. 31, 2000. I had been writing book reviews for the paper since 1976 and had seen my first professional review published in October 1964. By the time I got the job I had worked for the paper for 20 years and had recently won a first prize from the Society of Professional Journalists for Feature Headline writing. In short, I was the proverbial known quantity.
R&T: What did you like best about your work?
Wilson: What I liked best about it is what I called its impresario dimension: I put together what I thought was an excellent repertory company of reviewers, and I thought that on most Sundays the mix of reviews made for what Ed Sullivan used to call “a really big shew.” And the best part of that was reviewing those books that were well worth reviewing, but likely to be overlooked—Torgny Lindgren’s Hash, Lisa Tucker’s The Song Reader, to name two that I reviewed myself.
R&T: For many years at The Inquirer and other newspapers, the book review section was a Sunday Supplement, that is, a stand-alone magazine. From that it was constantly whittled down until now there are just a few reviews bouncing between Arts & Entertainment and Currents (the Sunday opinion section). What do you think about those changes and why did they occur?
Wilson: The Inquirer’s book section was a stand-alone section when I was appointed book editor in 2000. But it was soon folded into the Arts & Entertainment section, then later was divided between that section and the Currents section. Now it’s back—in a much-reduced form—in A&E. With the clarity of hindsight I now realize the best thing would have been to move all of it to Currents, the principal reason for that being how much Currents editor John Timpane and I saw eye-to-eye on book coverage.
The stand-alone section was dropped to save money, of course. Dividing reviews between A&E and Currents actually enabled us to increase coverage. Putting them all back in A&E was so the newsroom management could have greater control of book coverage. And that is all I choose to say on that subject.
R&T: Point taken. What do you see as the role of the book reviewer in today’s world?
Wilson: I think the best way to see the role of the book reviewer is to see it from the perspective of the reader—the common reader, to use Virginia Woolf’s phrase. What that reader wants to learn from a review is what a given book is about and whether it is worth reading or not and why or why not. If the reviewer’s reasons for liking or disliking the book are clearly expressed, the reader of the review can either buy those reasons or not and decide whether the book is worth reading or not.
One has to bear in mind that, while reviewing employs criticism, it is not the same as criticism. Criticism is an evaluative analysis of a work both the critic and the reader are familiar with. A review is an appraisal of a work the reader of the review is presumed not to have read.
In theory, practically anybody who can read can review a book addressed to the common reader. But some people are better at it than others and a few people are really good at it. That is because, while we all pretty much know immediately that we like something, or that we don’t, a certain skill and talent and experience are necessary to explain why we feel as we do in terms of specific elements in the work under review.
There is, of course, a large subjective component in all of this, but there are also objective considerations as well.
Take The Da Vinci Code. Anyone familiar with art history knows that the artist is referred to as Leonardo, not Da Vinci. But then the opening chapter has a man in his 70s displaying preternatural toughness after suffering one of the more painful and debilitating gunshot wounds. Later, the supposedly learned Lee Teabing declares that English is the European language with the fewest words of Latin origin, as absurd a statement as you are likely to encounter. Finally, there is the book’s highly implausible time frame. So there is plenty to complain about without even getting into the Dick-and-Jane prose or the historical inaccuracies. In other words, The Da Vinci Code may be said to be, objectively, a bad book.
R&T: Did that role of the reviewer change at all when Amazon opened reviewing to “Everyreader”? Did the style and background of reviewers change at all?
Wilson: While the number of reviewers may have increased exponentially, thanks to Amazon and to blogs, the number of competent reviewers probably has not. What has changed is the number of outlets available to those reviewers—that number has sharply declined. So the opportunities to earn money from reviewing—which used to be a way for aspiring writers to support themselves while writing that novel of theirs—have correspondingly declined, especially now with intellectually insecure editors wanting “credentialed” or “name” reviewers. Any sensible reader of reviews will apply the aforementioned criteria even to a review by John Updike.
R&T: Do you have any thoughts or feelings on the trend to categorize books into ever-narrower genres?
Wilson: Once you’ve divided fiction from nonfiction, I think you’ve probably gone far enough. A crime novel is, before it is anything else, a novel. If it doesn’t work as a novel, it doesn’t work, period. It isn’t the subject of a novel that determines its quality. What matters is how well it’s executed. Crime and Punishment will serve to show just how far you can take the crime novel. And the same holds true for romances or historical fiction or whatever.
R&T: There is criticism of the publishing industry from some circles that it’s become too commercial. Always focused on the next bestseller and either rejecting work that’s not expected to be a major commercial success or not promoting those authors. Do you have any thoughts about that?
Wilson: There are lots of good reasons to criticize the publishing industry but trying to make money off books isn’t one of them. Publishing is a business. Businesses that don’t make money go out of business.
One of the strangest things about the publishing business—at least lately—has been all the books that have been published that almost certainly did not make any money and were unlikely to from the start. There may have been a small market for Bush-bashing books, but the steady flow of them that came into my office must have been heading straight to the remainder piles. There just aren’t that many political junkies around. Then there are the huge advances paid to retired politicians and over-the-hill movie stars.
I often wonder how many Rabbit Angstrom types—presuming there are any—ever read John Updike’s Rabbit novels. Thanks to his wife, Rabbit ends up owning a car dealership. I wonder how many car dealers have read Rabbit Is Rich. And I wonder what their reaction would be. I mention this because Updike’s work is a perfect example of literary fiction, meant to illuminate our society. But what are the demographics of his readership? Bear in mind that the Micawbers of the world may well have read Dickens, whose work was as popular in his day as any television series is today.
At any rate,the principal problem with the publishing industry, I think, is how out of touch with readers it tends to be, as reflected in the me-tooism of what is published. (Think of all the imitation Da Vinci Codes.) Like newspapers, publishers seem to think that what readers want is the endless re-packaging of what they’ve already had. No, they want something genuinely, perhaps along those lines, or something altogether different, or...who knows—but that’s what they’re supposed to find out, and that takes looking in places different from the ones you always look at, finding someone besides “the usual suspects.” And of course that means taking some risks and maybe even backing a dark horse from time to time. Two of the best novels I’ve reviewed in the past few years are by William Nicholson—The Society of Others and The Trial of True Love. Nicholson wrote Shadowlands and co-authored the screenplay for Gladiator. He’s not an unknown quantity. But did either of his novels get any real publicity campaign behind them? Not that I’m aware of.
R&T: A chasm also seems to exist these days between writers of “popular” fiction and writers of “literary” fiction. I suspect some sour grapes in each camp, but basically, writers of “popular” fiction are seen as focusing too much on page-turning plots and not enough on craft, while “literary” writers are sometimes accused of focusing too much on the well-crafted sentence and not enough on an engrossing story. Do you think either of these notions is valid?
Wilson: I don’t think this has anything to do with “popular” versus “literary”—though God knows it is presented as such often enough in the media. Are there utterly superficial, in-one-eye-out-the-other thrillers? Sure. Just as there are plenty of let’s-watch-the-paint-dry, oh-so-precious short stories and novels. The former in many cases find an audience because they can be diverting and require virtually no effort to read (unless, like me and many others you find reading disposable writing a waste of time). The latter just fade away, I guess, like the old soldier. The “literary” writer who substitutes style for substance is the worse offender, in my view. If you don’t have anything to say, try not saying it at all instead of trying to say it exquisitely.
Here is a passage, chosen more or less at random, from a novel I just reviewed—Marisa Silver’s The God of War. The narrator, Ares Ramirez, has this to say about his brain-damaged younger brother:
I could never understand what Malcolm saw in the orphaned bits and pieces he collected or why they were meaningful to him. I knew they didn’t exactly explain or describe him. But I could believe he had made choices—this rock, not that one; this feather, and not another—and that each object moved him in some way, and that he was capable of a kind of attachment, a very particular sort of love.This is plain, simple, and touching—even more so when read in context, when it is actually heartbreaking. The God of War is skillfully plotted, filled with vivid characters. I guess it would be called “literary fiction,” but the categorization is meaningless. It is simply great fiction, which does what great fiction is supposed to do: It reminds you of what life is about.
R&T: I’m sure you’ve read the dire statistics on reading, particularly among the young, reported recently by the NEA. Would you care to comment on either the report and/or what you think it means about our culture?
Wilson: As with anything, the more you read, the easier reading is to do. So the first problem in getting people to read is to get them to a level of proficiency where they feel comfortable reading. Unfortunately, the way in which schools tend to go about doing this is often counterproductive: They assign books that are widely regarded as “great,” “classics,” “masterpieces.” And the books in question usually are all of those things. That doesn’t mean they’re easy to read, though, and if they’re hard to read, they are not only not going get people hooked on reading, they are going to turn people off on reading. I have myself never been much of a fan of Jane Austen quite simply because my first experience of her came when I was a sophomore in high school. To this blue-collar kid, Pride and Prejudice might as well have been written in Urdu. I suggest to people who aren’t comfortable reading that they find some good young adult fiction and read that—because once people start reading without having to work at it, they are ready to move on to reading all sorts of things they never imagined they would have wanted to. If a kid wants to read science fiction rather than Moby Dick, let him. Moby Dick’s not going anywhere; it’ll be around whenever he feels ready to tackle it. That’s another reason why this precious distinction between genre fiction and lit’ry fiction is so pernicious. Leave people alone. Let them get up to speed in their own way at their pace. Once they discover they can have fun reading, the problem of getting them to read is solved once and for all.
R&T: During your time I’m sure you’ve witnessed some major changes in the newspaper industry as a whole. Many venerable city newspapers have folded or—dare I say, like The Inquirer—are mere shadows of their former glory. Do you think newspaper owners, writers/reporters share in the blame for this or is it simply a phenomenon of wider Internet access?
Wilson: Do owners, writers/reporters share in the blame for this? I would give the lion’s share of the blame to newsroom managers, most of whom are philistines who think that the be all and end all of human existence is politics and policy, and that art, music and literature are just diversions, things to amuse ourselves with when we take break from the latest white paper. In fact, art, music and literature are what enable us to live truly human lives and I would suggest that a careful reading of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar or Richard II is worth a lot more than reading one more rehash of the conventional political wisdom in some newspaper column. Just ask yourself: Which would you rather have, a citizenry that only knows what it reads in the paper or sees on TV, or a citizenry that has read Plutarch and Gibbon and John Stuart Mill? The internet has revealed to an increasing number of people how selective coverage of events in newspapers is. And they have not been gratified by the discovery. And newsroom managers simply do not know how to compete. They think that by doing something that faintly resembles the sort of thing they did when they dominated the market—long, repetitive, tendentious “investigative” pieces—that subscribers will come flocking back. But that’s journalism written for other journalists. Real people don’t want to waste their time wading through what amounts to a reporter’s notebook. They want you to get to the point.
R&T: Along those lines, you’ve written for print and now maintain a popular blog. Do you see one as having an advantage over the other?
Wilson: Once upon a time, print was the only way you could communicate to the general public. Which meant the people in charge of the print media had to decide that you were worthy to be included among them. If you were so included, that lent you a certain modicum of prestige. Now, if you have a computer and modem, you can communicate to the general public and they can decide for themselves if what you have to say is worth paying attention to. And people are discovering that lots of other people they would never have heard of in the old days do indeed have much to say that is worth paying attention to. Even better, they can interact with those people and that interaction itself tends to generate elucidation. The only advantage print now has over new media is economic—and that is changing. People can now sit in their homes and be their own media outlet. And we are only at the beginning of this. We have focused on the challenge it has posed to newspapers and publishers. It’s also proving to be a challenge to politicians and their operatives. The legacy media can still ignore things, but those things won’t be ignored by the blogosphere, and the more people find out that the papers they read and the news shows they watch have chosen not to cover things about one candidate, say, that they would have covered had they pertained to another candidate—well, people are going to walk away. So, to answer your question: Regardless of what you read in the papers, the advantage is to the bloggers.
R&T: Do you have any advice for new writers, especially those trying to get a first novel published?
Wilson: Start a blog. It will force you to write every day, which can only improve your style and help you overcome the anxiety that comes from staring at a blank page (or screen). You will start making contact with the people you hope will buy your book: readers. You may start to build an audience.
R&T: Finally, now that you have retired from The Inquirer, what are your future plans? A book? Teaching?
Wilson: Living, for one. Re-reading the classics. Savoring what I read, look at, listen to. Enjoying for its own sake.
I’m also interested in seeing how blogging can develop. I think some forms of writing are better suited to blogs than others. I’d like to find out what those are. I also want to write some things I didn’t have time to before. And if someone offered me a teaching gig, I might well accept.
Nannette Croce is Co-Managing Editor of The Rose & Thorn and an official YOGer. Her work has appeared in various online and print publications including, of course, The Rose & Thorn. For more information on her published work, visit her website.









