When I was a youngster, there was a general agreement that professional writers should not respond to reviews of their books—hostile or friendly—except to a) correct facts or b) refute outright libels. This was wise, and sensible, and (as Johnny Rotten sang, at Winterland, moments before quitting the Sex Pistols) Noo funnnnnnn. Naoooo funnnn at all. In a world where social media has destroyed what was left of the public/private split—or at least reconfigured it so fundamentally that we’d need new language for what is split from what, where—people don’t follow this rule anymore. Now we all enjoy watching writers huff and puff at each other. This, uh, presents temptations, but also opportunities. It is clarifying to see two writers identify, over several exchanges, what they really disagree about, and also clarifying to watch them fail to do so: it tells us that what they’re really fighting about is something else. On the other hand, the new situation invites writers to stew in anger, which is not great for the soul.
Fortunately for my soul, my two acutest critics thus far are people I just can’t get mad at. One of them is friend of the newsletter Brad East, who reviewed the book for First Things. I’m deciding whether or not to write anything about that one.
That leaves Adam Roberts, one of my favorite living writers. Roberts quite annoyingly hits upon some of the exact places where my worldview seems most in conflict with itself. I was going to let his extraordinary response stand, but then I found myself writing the equivalent of an entire Substack post in his replies. It struck me that I should probably just … post what I had to say where everyone can see it, in case it is interesting or clarifying for anyone else.
I’m going to suggest that you just read Roberts’s post and then mine.