THE TONE OF A CRITICISM

(This is mostly targeted toward the Internet community, because it deals with issues related and almost exclusive to that domain, and also because that is where I’ll be publishing this little “article”.)

Critiquing the work of others is, in its own right, a form of creative output itself.  There are people who have never lifted a pencil to write or draw creatively, yet they express themselves in either helping to improve or conniving to destroy a story here, a comic there.

Intentions aside, I wish to address the way in which people critique.  This has little to nothing to do with politeness, compliments or fairness, because those who critique often resent these qualities; instead, it’s about tone.

El chupacabra standing strong to represent "Yeti Spaghetti", the odd little comic he comes from.

I will use the example of my web comic, because—though I have yet to receive enough attention to receive a criticism—I do anticipate one to come along eventually.  My web comic is silly, ridiculous, cartoonish, and a bit strange (being primarily about cryptids and their scientifically undocumented antics); if one wishes to critique my web comic (and they are welcomed to—as should be the case with all artistic endeavors) I ask that this person does so in the same style of my comic.  That is—be silly, ridiculous, cartoonish, and a bit strange.

Critics should match the tone, if not so much the style, of what they criticize because it shows an understanding that is important to the validity of that very criticism.  If one is to write a critique about a sad, serious tale with nothing but sarcasm and puns then that person should expect the one responsible for the criticized work to reject or at least feel less appreciative of that criticism.  A serious story deserves a serious review; a hilarious image demands a hilarious critique; a foul comic warrants a foul review.  And, in a more extreme case, if the item in question is so hideously bad, so completely poorly made, then feel free to write a bad, poorly thought-out review, because the person responsible probably won’t know any better anyway.

Back to my personal example:  I will know that the critic understands my humor and is capable of reflecting back that humor, which makes his or her opinion on my comic more pointed.  I would hear every point he or she makes, and I would do my best to make improvements.  If, however, that person did a poor job reflecting my humor (perhaps ignoring irony altogether and sticking to that odious sarcasm that I scarcely even use in the comic) or simply failed to be or try to be funny—I would probably ignore the review.

Of course there is the exception—if that review is quite accurate, I’ll give it the time of day and address the issues.

Basically, make the critique personal, for that would make it more effective in the long run.  I know that, as a comic artist (har har, really distinctive title there), I would prefer to see reviews dealt that way, because it makes it easier to accept the idea that the critic isn’t a total idiot-asshole who doesn’t know what he or she is talking about.