Dee Savoy

Unless it’s not.

Recently, on one of the many lists of readers and writers in which I participate, someone posted decrying the popularity of a certain type of fiction. This comment was immediately met by members of this list (which shall remain nameless, chiefly because I can’t remember which one it was) with a degree of outrage usually reserved for discovering there is a child molester living one house over. How could anyone post such a negative comment, some folks asked? Others affirmed that they were all about positivity (if such a word exists). Don’t hate, warned others, as if any unfavorable comment was tantamount to savaging whatever topic was being discussed.

I watched this exchange with a bit of wonder and a great deal of consternation. It’a not as if this was the first time I’d seen this type of conversation played out either on line or in person. Lately, it seems that any dissention, disagreement or difference of opinion is idea non grata at the discussion table. Only varying forms of agreement need apply.

It wouldn’t be so bad if this call to accentuate the positive was merely part of some touchy-feely movement to eradicate blind prejudice against anything but the familiar. As a child of the sixties and seventies (okay, now I’ve dated myself), I had the obligatory Make Love Not War poster hanging on the wall above my bed along with another one that read–You do your thing and I’ll do mine and if we find each other, that’s beautiful. If not, it wasn’t meant to be.

Inherent in that statement is both an assumption that all people were not the same and an implied tolerance for one another’s differences. That is a far cry from the affected cheerfulness that seems to be demanded of me these days, where the only acceptable response to any stimuli is praise. We must stand together, we must uplift one another, affirm one another, help one another and never, nerver, EVER tell anyone anything that might actually hurt thei feelings or make them confront their own notions of the way things are–even if it’s the truth.

There was a time when I would happily critique work by beginning authors or those with less experience than I possessed, but no more. What young writers, and indeed more experienced ones as well, are looking for affirmation of their brilliance rather than another person’s honest evaluation of their work. This kind of Pollyanna view of the world not only works the last functioning nerve I possess, but does nothing to accomplish what we claim as our true agenda–helping each other become better writers.

To my mind, there is a difference between making a judgment (assessing the merit of something) and being judgmental (being hypercritical of everything). The former is an essential part of life. We make judgments on what is good or bad for us, right or wrong, or at the very least, what it’s worth pulling out or credit card to buy. The ability to voice an opinion–even if it’s not the pluperfection of joy–is not a freedom we should give up easily. That’s the way I see it, anyway. I won’t mind if you disagree.