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odreadingtime's review
informative
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
Content Warnings
Moderate: Rape and Violence
cornelio3's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4.0
jellyfishes's review against another edition
2.0
Okay. So. I hated this. And not in a "It was infuriating" way, just in a "Wow! This sucks" way. And that's harsh, I know. Maybe it isn't even fair at all - after all, I know very little about art or its critics, and this book clearly belongs to a discourse I'm wildly unfamiliar with. But that means very little to me, especially because it literally just isn't my job to be totally familiar with the discourse. No doubt I will reconsider, and perhaps some of Nelson's critiques might become more relevant as I learn more, but I don't think this fundamental impression will shift all that much.
Many of the reviews I've read of this book have followed this general pattern: "This book doesn't make many conclusions, but this is a good thing, because it opens up a discussion, introduces the reader to new art, and asks questions without attempting to solve them." I find that utterly ridiculous. If I wanted to be introduced to new art without someone else making conclusions for me about it, I'd just go to Wikipedia and scroll for hours. I am also not all that convinced by the common reviewer sentiment that "Even if the book doesn't say a lot, Nelson's exquisite writing kept me going". I didn't find her writing all that great (it kind of just felt like a combination of, say, Solnit with some academic. Which isn't a bad thing, but definitely not groundbreaking), and the only thing that kept me going to the end was the art itself. But that has very little to do with this book, and again, the same thing could be accomplished by a nice journey into Wikipedia.
Basically, this book says nothing. When it gets close to saying something, it pulls back, almost like it's afraid to make a conclusion (even a tentative one. Maybe not even a conclusion at all, but something on the way there!). And I understand that this may be part of the point; art might even be defined by the way it evades conclusion. But if you are going to write a book about cruelty in art, you might want to be prepared to make a claim about cruelty in art. Now, if you want to publish a series of diary entries or blog posts about your personal reactions to art, fine. But don't act like it's "A Reckoning".
Perhaps a significant reason for my vitriol comes from the weird apolitical and ahistorical nature of much of the book. That's not to say you have to adopt a historicist view of art at all, but to ignore the political, historical, and social dimensions of art is almost offensive. Nelson herself seems to be conscious of this, actually, and she does address it somewhat in the concluding chapters. But here, there's something even weirder than ignoring the historico-political. For at the end, when she finally decides to address politics, it is because she finally addresses black women - as if the only thing that is inherently political is blackness, womanhood, black womanhood. Why is it only the black woman dealing with slavery and personal trauma whose work draws the strongest, most lucid critique of narcissism in art? When Bacon, Warhol, and Artaud create, they are producing something autonomous, something worthy unto itself of critique (or, in Nelson's case, of admiration). But when Walker creates, her work is inextricably tied to her, or, to her black womanhood. It's perfectly legitimate to consider the creator in an analysis of the creation. But such a framework should then be applied universally. Otherwise we end up where we already are, where white men speak to all and everyone else must keep to themselves, for their work is too charged, too political, too specific to be universal.
In her discussion of Sierra, she says that "the artist has the power neither to restore nor to annihilate" the dignity of their subject (128). I find this ridiculous. Maybe the artist doesn't have that power (though I think they probably do), but the artist is a human being. Human beings do have that power, and to suggest that art exists outside of the human sphere even in a discussion of cruelty is almost appalling to me. But maybe the book can get by with that because it does not make conclusions. I would almost call that cowardly, especially when we are dealing with cruelty. All of this to say, art is not just between the creation and the viewer. It emerges out of a specific context, and it emerges into specific contexts, over and over again each time it is considered. To separate it from those contexts, to mention in passing Abu Ghraib as though it is aesthetically and politically analogous to women creating grotesque performance art is to me immensely cruel, and not in the way Nelson implies.
Where she does make points, and where this book is the strongest, is in regard to the violence against women's bodies. But I think these points are made better and more fiercely elsewhere (Machado's [b:Her Body and Other Parties|33375622|Her Body and Other Parties|Carmen Maria Machado|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1485266434l/33375622._SX50_.jpg|54116423] comes to mind), so they don't really redeem anything in my view. There is also a surprising lack of reference to queer and postcolonial criticisms (and, of course, black and BIPOC criticisms, though I don't know as much about those and do not feel prepared to comment on them in more detail). [a:Edward Said|21570252|Edward Said|https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/user/u_50x66-632230dc9882b4352d753eedf9396530.png], for example, has some interesting things to say when it comes to cultural production and cruelty, but perhaps Nelson's apolitical lens and (legitimate, though limiting) focus on bodily horror prevents her from engaging him.
TL;DR: At best this was boring, and at worst it was appalling.
Many of the reviews I've read of this book have followed this general pattern: "This book doesn't make many conclusions, but this is a good thing, because it opens up a discussion, introduces the reader to new art, and asks questions without attempting to solve them." I find that utterly ridiculous. If I wanted to be introduced to new art without someone else making conclusions for me about it, I'd just go to Wikipedia and scroll for hours. I am also not all that convinced by the common reviewer sentiment that "Even if the book doesn't say a lot, Nelson's exquisite writing kept me going". I didn't find her writing all that great (it kind of just felt like a combination of, say, Solnit with some academic. Which isn't a bad thing, but definitely not groundbreaking), and the only thing that kept me going to the end was the art itself. But that has very little to do with this book, and again, the same thing could be accomplished by a nice journey into Wikipedia.
Basically, this book says nothing. When it gets close to saying something, it pulls back, almost like it's afraid to make a conclusion (even a tentative one. Maybe not even a conclusion at all, but something on the way there!). And I understand that this may be part of the point; art might even be defined by the way it evades conclusion. But if you are going to write a book about cruelty in art, you might want to be prepared to make a claim about cruelty in art. Now, if you want to publish a series of diary entries or blog posts about your personal reactions to art, fine. But don't act like it's "A Reckoning".
Perhaps a significant reason for my vitriol comes from the weird apolitical and ahistorical nature of much of the book. That's not to say you have to adopt a historicist view of art at all, but to ignore the political, historical, and social dimensions of art is almost offensive. Nelson herself seems to be conscious of this, actually, and she does address it somewhat in the concluding chapters. But here, there's something even weirder than ignoring the historico-political. For at the end, when she finally decides to address politics, it is because she finally addresses black women - as if the only thing that is inherently political is blackness, womanhood, black womanhood. Why is it only the black woman dealing with slavery and personal trauma whose work draws the strongest, most lucid critique of narcissism in art? When Bacon, Warhol, and Artaud create, they are producing something autonomous, something worthy unto itself of critique (or, in Nelson's case, of admiration). But when Walker creates, her work is inextricably tied to her, or, to her black womanhood. It's perfectly legitimate to consider the creator in an analysis of the creation. But such a framework should then be applied universally. Otherwise we end up where we already are, where white men speak to all and everyone else must keep to themselves, for their work is too charged, too political, too specific to be universal.
In her discussion of Sierra, she says that "the artist has the power neither to restore nor to annihilate" the dignity of their subject (128). I find this ridiculous. Maybe the artist doesn't have that power (though I think they probably do), but the artist is a human being. Human beings do have that power, and to suggest that art exists outside of the human sphere even in a discussion of cruelty is almost appalling to me. But maybe the book can get by with that because it does not make conclusions. I would almost call that cowardly, especially when we are dealing with cruelty. All of this to say, art is not just between the creation and the viewer. It emerges out of a specific context, and it emerges into specific contexts, over and over again each time it is considered. To separate it from those contexts, to mention in passing Abu Ghraib as though it is aesthetically and politically analogous to women creating grotesque performance art is to me immensely cruel, and not in the way Nelson implies.
Where she does make points, and where this book is the strongest, is in regard to the violence against women's bodies. But I think these points are made better and more fiercely elsewhere (Machado's [b:Her Body and Other Parties|33375622|Her Body and Other Parties|Carmen Maria Machado|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1485266434l/33375622._SX50_.jpg|54116423] comes to mind), so they don't really redeem anything in my view. There is also a surprising lack of reference to queer and postcolonial criticisms (and, of course, black and BIPOC criticisms, though I don't know as much about those and do not feel prepared to comment on them in more detail). [a:Edward Said|21570252|Edward Said|https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/user/u_50x66-632230dc9882b4352d753eedf9396530.png], for example, has some interesting things to say when it comes to cultural production and cruelty, but perhaps Nelson's apolitical lens and (legitimate, though limiting) focus on bodily horror prevents her from engaging him.
TL;DR: At best this was boring, and at worst it was appalling.
bananabell's review
3.0
An ode to (opening up) space- I say ode because Nelson is inevitably lyrical. I would also describe it as the postmodern response to the binaries of modern-day politics, except I still don't have quite a grasp on what postmodernism is. Also I think this book is kind of Buddhist with the embrace of the void and paradoxes, and the blurring of good/evil.
Kind of saw it as a survey of modern avant-garde art, and a very very relevant investigation of a phenomenon in our time- Nelson is just a really relevant, shrewd, cultural critic of the times (published in 2011). Reading her teaches me how to think in a way that opens up space and nuance- while not abandoning personal convictions, taking the time to question and clarify them.
While at some points I felt the ideas were vague or under-analyzed, she weaves back ideas in a cohesive way and doesn't juggle more references than given the scope of the book. I consider this a book handling high critical concepts but with elegance and conciseness, so that it was surprisingly smooth reading. Also appreciate her unexpectedly funny sentences bookending some more serious paragraphs describing controversial art projects, especially near the end.
Kind of saw it as a survey of modern avant-garde art, and a very very relevant investigation of a phenomenon in our time- Nelson is just a really relevant, shrewd, cultural critic of the times (published in 2011). Reading her teaches me how to think in a way that opens up space and nuance- while not abandoning personal convictions, taking the time to question and clarify them.
While at some points I felt the ideas were vague or under-analyzed, she weaves back ideas in a cohesive way and doesn't juggle more references than given the scope of the book. I consider this a book handling high critical concepts but with elegance and conciseness, so that it was surprisingly smooth reading. Also appreciate her unexpectedly funny sentences bookending some more serious paragraphs describing controversial art projects, especially near the end.
dukegregory's review
3.0
3.5
Amazing first half. Sort of falls apart for me as Nelson becomes more and more discursive. Will be useful for my thesis though. I miss her first-person interjections.
Amazing first half. Sort of falls apart for me as Nelson becomes more and more discursive. Will be useful for my thesis though. I miss her first-person interjections.
isabelle13a's review against another edition
a lot to think about -- i am grateful for nelson's clear prose and the space she invites us to play and reflect upon art and the world in: a third, more nuanced place beyond just black and white analysis. this book is just as much about humanity as it is creation, and nelson critiques with that knowledge thoughtfully at the forefront of her writing. highly recommend -- read this book to jump in, make your own decisions, and wrestle with her theories. i'll be thinking about these ideas for a long time.