13 Ways of Looking at the Novel (edition 2006)

The first 7 or 8 chapters were good or great, so I was willing to continue reading through the strange mix of book report and diary that the final "ways of looking at a novel" encompassed. By the 13th, though, I really didn't care about and in some ways actively disliked the author's point of view. I didn't venture into the summaries of 100 novels that followed. ( )

I think I may have to buy this book.

I didn't *love* it, but it's an academic book, and dense, and there's a lot I want to review.

However long it's been on my "currently reading" list, it didn't actually take me 7 months to read. But the library kept taking it back, and it wasn't something meant to read in one sitting.

Smiley is insightful and intelligently articulates what she thinks the novel is, which I must admit I don't fully agree with. Nevertheless, she argues well for her position, and though she seems to want to orient novels in more political landscape than I think is always necessary, she is consistent in discussing the novel in her terms, and it doesn't get confusing. I may not always agree, especailly when she discusses her political position, but it never overwhelms the thesis of the book.

However, because she talks politics, when she uses the terms 'liberal' and 'conservative' as literary poles, I don't know what she meant. It unnecessarily confused the issue.

At the very least, I added some 90 books of her list of 101 to my TBR list (just what it needed). And I could use this book on my shelf...it's useful enough to come to again and again. ( )

A novel is “a long story bound enticingly between the closed covers of a book.” That, it turns out, is about as comprehensive a description of “the novel” as one is likely to get. At her best, Smiley humbly acknowledges the irreducibility of “the novel”. Unfortunately, the first half of 13 Ways does not always display Smiley at her best. Instead, through chapters exploring such matters as what a novel is, who is a novelist, morality and the novel, the art of the novel, and more, Smiley evinces a seeming compulsion to render. Thus the preponderance of universal claims beginning, “All novels…,” or, “Every novel…,” and so forth. None is convincing. At times they seem naïve, wilful, petulant. They culminate in a dubiously singular analytical theory that Smiley dubs “the circle of the novel”.

My advice is to set aside the first half of 13 Ways and start in around page 270. The following 300 pages consists in brief summaries and observations of two to three pages in length on each of 100 novels, a representative sampling from the history of novel writing (as opposed to a ‘best of’ selection). In these pages Jane Smiley earns our trust. Each novel is considered on its merits, unfiltered by cod theories. We see a sensitive and sensible reader, responsive to the texts, challenging but also willing to be challenged. Perhaps not surprisingly there is a complete absence of ponderous pronouncements on “the novel”. One gets the impression that in her heart Smiley knows that each novel of merit stands on its own creating its own universals from its own particularities. Thus Smiley notes that “really, in the end, all the reader can say is, ‘Read this. I bet you’ll like it.’”

And in the end, I did like 13 Ways, despite my increasing annoyance as I plodded through the first 270 pages. I’m so glad I continued on to read the whole of the remarks on her set of 100 novels (I only wish now that Smiley had been able to fulfil her original goal of a set of 275). On novels that I already knew well, I found Smiley’s observations invariably insightful. On novels that I knew of but have not yet read, I found new reasons to pick them up. And for those novels that were entirely new to me, I can only say that my potential reading world is now somewhat enlarged. You may, like me, finish by wishing that Jane Smiley (or some other sensitive and sensible reader) could provide comparable insights for every book you hope to read, or have already read and might now read again. ( )

Smiley wrote 1000 Acres, etc.

This book is a must-read for anyone who loves reading novels as well as for new and experienced writers. Although it covers its subject in great depth and detail, analyzing the novel throughout its history by closely examining 100 (actually, slightly more) representatives of the form, it is such fascinating material and such food for thought that it doesn’t seem academic at all. In fact, a lot of witticisms are scattered throughout (such as, “the biographer is the author’s natural enemy”), as well as useful, practical and compassionate advice for those who aspire to write a novel themselves.

I won’t say that I agree with every theory Smiley posits. She pretty much omits genre fiction, and she takes a highly feminized viewpoint, which I think betrays her reading tastes. Her outlook of the novel as a form that has primarily dealt with the question of what to do about women is likely a result of her bias toward books that focus on female characters and women’s issues; she pretty much dismisses masculine-themed books such as Moby Dick and Heart of Darkness (two personal favorites).

Smiley’s most valuable offering is a short and precise definition of what a novel is that can’t really be argued with: A novel is a lengthy, written, prose narrative with a protagonist. From that starting point, all of her subsequent ideas of what the novel is flow. This is a juicy book, one which I found inspirational both for my reading life and my writing aspirations.

Read in 2008. ( )