Nonetheless, there is a lazy slide between the term reviewer and the term critic, that is, ‘critic’ seems to function as a more flattering term for ‘reviewer’. Yet not all reviewers are critics and, indeed conversely, not all critics are reviewers. Yet think of the individuals we are happy to label ‘critic’, say Andrew Riemer or Peter Craven, compared with those we think of as reviewers. In our lazy usage, the difference is not so simple as having published critical articles or books.

The review operates across a cultural chasm, catering at once for the dedicated reader of Australian literature (who in certain cases may be presumed to be familiar with the author/topic in question) and the casual reader who may have no intention of buying the book – or any book – but quite reasonably uses the books pages of the newspapers or a magazine such as ABR to keep informed on the range of books being published. In both cases, the reader should be offered first and foremost a piece of good writing. The review is, in my view, a literary genre of its own and whoever the reader it should offer an experience of lively writing.

I was shocked some years ago to discover that in universities, academics compiling a publications list are not credited with reviews. Reviews do not count on an academic CV. I understand that a few universities have since changed this policy but I believe the majority still adhere to it. Why shocked? It is partly because of the implicit devaluation of reviewing as a genre, but also because reviewing in newspapers or in ABR is reaching a wide audience, certainly one beyond the boundaries of the university. It seems to me shocking that the opportunities for cultural exchange between academic and general reader should be thus ignored. On the contrary, the review is the ideal meeting place of academic and general reader and every such encounter enhances the cultural life of this country.

In this issue, Ivor Indyk writes on literary authority, reaching back to eighteenth century England for a context and a framework, and Brian Castro writes on the role of the critic in Australia, reaching overseas for comparisons. Castro begins:

The Australian literary scene has always been more depressing than it is lively, especially when critics and writers are quick to display their battle-scars in public places where oftentimes the debate hardly rises above fawning or fighting. The walking wounded are encouraged to endure. That is about the only encouragement extant.

Later, Castro argues:

In the end there is more of a desperate need for the kind of critic you can trust, even one you may dislike, one that you know will be dispassionate and knowledgeable and tough, and in the end again, elegant and judicious and who won’t give four stars just because the work is local or parochial.

Castro adds: ‘That is, an avuncular or auntly critic; a cigar-smelling mentor who hates nepotism; a disagreeable personality but a guiding flare of exceptional brilliance.’

We are talking critics again, not reviewers, but then ‘critic’ is also an all-encompassing term and, by Castro’s terms, we have very few of the guiding flares he describes. On the other hand, we have a number of first-class reviewers who, presumably, by our sliding usage, are on their way to becoming critics.

It’s a tangled topic, one that crosses old boundaries in our thinking and may even nudge at the stubborn edges of certain academics’ thinking. Fortunately there are in Australia a large number of academics keen to write reviews, who value the genre and delight in the opportunity to participate in cultural debate in that most public of venues, the reviews pages of newspapers – or of ABR.