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bjornlarssen 's review for:
Monsters: A Fan's Dilemma
by Claire Dederer
“Am I a monster? The answer, it turned out, was a resounding yes.”
Dederer is many things. A critic. A memoirist. A person who uses Important Words. (Even my dictionary failed to explain one of them. No, I won’t admit what it was.) She’s also funny, extremely smart, curious, interesting, and unafraid.
I thought the book would be simpler. Over 252 pages (the rest is footnotes and sources of quotes) Dederer begins with the examination of simple cases – Polański, Allen, Rowling, Michael Jackson – and questioning our relationship with art vs artist. Is it possible to address both in purely ethical way, when the very role of art is to awaken feelings in us? Man Critics, for whom Dederer has quite a lot of choice words they provided themselves, scoff at her for feeling things about art. A critic is not supposed to be human. Which is one of the topics the author examines. Once humanity is removed from a person, what remains? And – can someone truly be nothing but a monster when they’re human?
There are plot twists, which is not something often found in non-fiction. Dederer doesn’t just take a close look at the #MeToo list of infamy; she stares equally hard in the mirror, and as a memoirist provides answers that not only she, but also I am uncomfortable with. What about being an artist in general, and, as an artist, neglecting the duties relegated to symbolic wife – from social engagements to raising children? (The chapter about mothers leaving their children hits hard.) Once we condemn someone, we can condemn their art as well, cancel Cosby and his ilk and The Cosby Show – as I have written in a review of a very different book, there is no way I could possibly watch The Cosby Show again. But a four-part documentary showed Cosby’s beautiful deeds, selflessness, charitable actions. Does that exonerate him? Is there a proportion of good to bad that allows the judgement to be reversed? Is there an amount of time that can pass since the Bad Things have been done that will end the cancellation? Who decides all this? (Spoiler: you, the reader and consumer of art.)
A quote from the author answers – as in, is her answer – those questions somewhat. “I guess all of this is a long way of saying: monsters are just people. I don’t think I would’ve been able to accept the humanity of monsters if I hadn’t been a drunk and if I hadn’t quit. If I hadn’t been forced, in this way, to acknowledge my own monstrosity.” None of us are made of pure innocence. None of us are nothing but villains. Myself included. What is my own monstrosity? Ah, you’ll have to await my own memoirs to find out. In the meantime, I highly recommend reading Monsters and taking a cold, hard, long look in the mirror. It’s going to be uncomfortable and make you (me) feel lots of things. Just like the best art.
My ratings:
5* = this book changed my life
4* = very good
3* = good
2* = I should have DNFed
1* = actively hostile towards the reader*
Dederer is many things. A critic. A memoirist. A person who uses Important Words. (Even my dictionary failed to explain one of them. No, I won’t admit what it was.) She’s also funny, extremely smart, curious, interesting, and unafraid.
I thought the book would be simpler. Over 252 pages (the rest is footnotes and sources of quotes) Dederer begins with the examination of simple cases – Polański, Allen, Rowling, Michael Jackson – and questioning our relationship with art vs artist. Is it possible to address both in purely ethical way, when the very role of art is to awaken feelings in us? Man Critics, for whom Dederer has quite a lot of choice words they provided themselves, scoff at her for feeling things about art. A critic is not supposed to be human. Which is one of the topics the author examines. Once humanity is removed from a person, what remains? And – can someone truly be nothing but a monster when they’re human?
There are plot twists, which is not something often found in non-fiction. Dederer doesn’t just take a close look at the #MeToo list of infamy; she stares equally hard in the mirror, and as a memoirist provides answers that not only she, but also I am uncomfortable with. What about being an artist in general, and, as an artist, neglecting the duties relegated to symbolic wife – from social engagements to raising children? (The chapter about mothers leaving their children hits hard.) Once we condemn someone, we can condemn their art as well, cancel Cosby and his ilk and The Cosby Show – as I have written in a review of a very different book, there is no way I could possibly watch The Cosby Show again. But a four-part documentary showed Cosby’s beautiful deeds, selflessness, charitable actions. Does that exonerate him? Is there a proportion of good to bad that allows the judgement to be reversed? Is there an amount of time that can pass since the Bad Things have been done that will end the cancellation? Who decides all this? (Spoiler: you, the reader and consumer of art.)
A quote from the author answers – as in, is her answer – those questions somewhat. “I guess all of this is a long way of saying: monsters are just people. I don’t think I would’ve been able to accept the humanity of monsters if I hadn’t been a drunk and if I hadn’t quit. If I hadn’t been forced, in this way, to acknowledge my own monstrosity.” None of us are made of pure innocence. None of us are nothing but villains. Myself included. What is my own monstrosity? Ah, you’ll have to await my own memoirs to find out. In the meantime, I highly recommend reading Monsters and taking a cold, hard, long look in the mirror. It’s going to be uncomfortable and make you (me) feel lots of things. Just like the best art.
My ratings:
5* = this book changed my life
4* = very good
3* = good
2* = I should have DNFed
1* = actively hostile towards the reader*