The fine art of literary fist-fighting How a bunch of rabble-rousers, outsiders, and ne'er-do-wells concocted creative nonfiction

Review by Choice Review

In the last chapter of this book Gutkind (Arizona State Univ.) says of creative nonfiction that "he was always ... annoyed by this incessant demand to specifically define something that was in the end indefinable" (p. 247). The Fine Art of Literary Fist-Fighting combines memoir, literary history, and criticism, which taken together add up to a story about how creative nonfiction developed from essays, "faction," and experimental reporting (including the New Journalism) to eventually become institutionalized within universities, publishing, and nonprofit periodicals like his own Creative Nonfiction. Gutkind finds the genre's roots everywhere: Truman Capote and Rachel Carson, Nellie Bly and Zora Neale Hurston, James Baldwin and Tom Wolfe. The experimental, "immersive," and personalized writing that emerged from this mix explores warfare, the sciences, and civil rights activism on the one hand, and sports, eccentric locals, and the mundane on the other (gay rights mostly do not register). The critical-historical chapters seem rushed, although Gutkind's treatment of major scandals (e.g., Jeffrey Masson's lawsuit against Janet Malcolm) and their implications for understanding creative nonfiction's "reality" is, despite the book's title, humble. Gutkind's narrative of his rise to creative nonfiction's "godfather" is most satisfying, as he stumbles out of shoe selling into writing and, ultimately, becomes the genre's most prominent spokesperson. Summing Up: Highly recommended. Lower-division undergraduates through faculty; general readers. --Miriam Elizabeth Burstein, SUNY Brockport

Copyright American Library Association, used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Gutkind (My Last Eight-Thousand Days), founder of the literary magazine Creative Nonfiction, provides an enlightening critical history of the genre. He finds the seeds of creative nonfiction in such genre-defying works as Daniel Defoe's 1722 A Journal of the Plague Year, which recreated the 1665 Great Plague of London through the eyes of a fictional narrator. Elsewhere, Gutkind notes that decades before Tom Wolfe gained fame as a practitioner of New Journalism, reporters Marvel Cooke and Ida B. Wells were employing the genre's defining techniques (writing in scenes, strong authorial voice) in their reportage on life in New York City and lynching in the American South. Thoughtfully probing controversies stirred up by creative nonfiction, Gutkind recounts how New Yorker writer Janet Malcolm's presentation of interviews she'd conducted with an embattled psychoanalyst over the course of months as taking place over a single meal, and adjustment of quotations to sell the illusion, resulted in a protracted legal battle after her subject sued for misrepresenting him (the case was decided in Malcolm's favor). The literary history fascinates, though Gutkind's accounts of arguing with his colleagues in the University of Pittsburgh English department on behalf of creative nonfiction's merits drag in comparison. Still, it adds up to a thorough appraisal of the genre. (Jan.)

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

An in-the-trenches view of the birth and growth of creative nonfiction. Although he admits to being a motorcycle-riding outsider without many academic credentials and plenty of opinions, Gutkind, author of You Can't Make This Stuff Up, promises a little more mayhem with his title than he delivers. Sure, he has an elephant graveyard's worth of bones to pick with some writers--John D'Agata, keep your eyes peeled--and he admires a few brawling writers (Hemingway, Mailer). The fist-fighting he mentions is of a more genteel kind, however: the sniffy dismissals of creative nonfiction as "bullshit," in the words of one New York Times Book Review editor, who added, "I don't know what it is other than people making stuff up." Gutkind's definition is more circumstantial. Though the genre allows for some embroidering, creative nonfiction is a more or less factual way of detailing the episodes ("writing in scenes") that make up people's lives, whether one's own or another's. In this, creative nonfiction owes broadly to the new journalism of the 1960s and 1970s, with exponents such as Truman Capote, Tom Wolfe, and Hunter S. Thompson. Gutkind sagely notes that this broad leeway has allowed for women and members of ethnic and social minorities to forge ahead somewhat more fully than in other fields. Among his most admired exemplars is Joan Didion, who "labored over each sentence, establishing an intimacy with her voice that would sustain her work and inspire readers and writers far longer than most of the other new journalists," and James Baldwin, whose essays of the 1950s perhaps prefigured new journalism. Whatever the case, this memoir/critical history will please some readers and tick off others, which seems to be precisely the point. Budding journalists and students of creative writing will find plenty of red meat in Gutkind's pages. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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