Too much unrelenting positivity

I read a book of essays, More Alive and Less Lonely, by Jonathan Lethem. It’s mostly previously-published book reviews and book introductions. I love reading old book reviews, and Lethem seems to have read everything I’ve read and enjoyed, from literary writers such as Lorrie Moore and John Updike to various mystery, science fiction, and other genre authors.

I jumped into the book and was liking it, but then . . . I got exhausted by its nonstop positivity. Every author being discussed is wonderful, they can do no wrong. I get it, it’s the “The Believer” shtick, we should be less snarky and more sincere, more direct. And I’m down with that. I’m sincere right here, no snark at all. But you can sincerely love a work or an author without thinking they’re perfect. Indeed, thinking about a work’s imperfections can deepen your love of it (as here, for example).

OK, there was one example I found in Lethem’s book, a review of something by Salman Rushdie, where he offers some negative criticism. And that worked out fine! I just wish he’d done this with his other subjects. Eventually I started to feel that the whole thing was kind of a performance, with Lethem demonstrating four and twenty different ways to praise. Loosen up, dude!