“snark” is a Real Word!
Savaged by the snark
Clive James
Tuesday September 9, 2003
The Guardian
The recently published ninth edition of the excellent Chambers Dictionary, which has always prided itself on keeping up with new words, gives only one meaning for the noun “snark”. It’s “an imaginary animal created by Lewis Carroll”. The 10th edition might well carry a second meaning: “an adverse book review written with malice aforethought.” If the dictionary were compiled on historical principles, like the Oxford English Dictionary, it might mention that the word “snark” was first used in this sense by Heidi Julavits in a long and fascinating article about book-reviewing which she published in the US magazine the Believer. Elsewhere in the literary forest, Tibor Fischer recently launched a savage attack on Martin Amis’s Yellow Dog, describing it as “not-knowing-where-to-look bad”; Jonathan Myerson has written a scalding review of Douglas Kennedy’s new novel A Special Relationship, while Dale Peck, writing in the New Republic, attempted to bury Rick Moody’s novel The Black Veil under an avalanche of abuse. Generating a small but widely reported kerfuffle, this last event was one of the stimuli for Julavits’s contention that the killingly personal review might be reaching such epidemic proportions that it needed its own monosyllabic name, like plague.
Plausibly claiming to have identified an industry-wide rise in the prevalence of a snide tone, she called such a review a “snark”. Since the noun derives from the accepted slang adjective “snarky”, one would have thought it a rather understated label for an attack whose intent is often not merely snide but outright murderous. Better acquainted with the concept of gangsterism in public life, the Germans call a killer review a rip-up and the Italians a tear-to-pieces. But this new, English word is probably violent enough, and it certainly captures the essential element of personally cherished malice.
The desire to do someone down, or indeed in, is the defining feature. Adverse book reviews there have always been, and probably always should be. At their best, they are written in defence of a value, and in the tacit hope that the author, having had his transgressions pointed out, might secretly agree that his book is indeed lousy. All they attack, or seem to attack, is the book. But a snark blatantly attacks the author. It isn’t just meant to retard the author’s career, it is meant to advance the reviewer’s, either by proving how clever he is or simply by injuring a competitor.
Back in the early 19th-century, the dim but industrious poet Robert Montgomery had grown dangerously used to extravagant praise, until a new book of his poems was given for review to the great historian and reviewer Lord Macaulay. The results set all England laughing and Montgomery on the road to oblivion, where he still is, his fate at Macaulay’s hands being his only remaining claim to fame.
Across the pond, Mark Twain later did the same to James Fenimore Cooper. Making hilarious game of the improbabilities in Cooper’s tales of arcane woodcraft, Twain’s essays about Cooper have been American classics ever since. So have Cooper’s novels, but only in the category of enjoyable hokum. After Twain got through with him, Cooper’s prestige was gone.
When you say a man writes badly, you are trying to hurt him. When you say it in words better than his, you have hurt him. It would be better to admit this fact, and admit that all adverse reviews are snarks to some degree, than to indulge the sentimental wish that malice might be debarred from the literary world. The literary world is where it belongs. When Dr Johnson longed for his enemy to publish a book, it was because he wasn’t allowed to hit him with an axe. Civilisation tames human passions, but it can’t eliminate them. Hunt the snark and you will find it everywhere.
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