Introduction: Jack Edwards, Constant Reader

Welcome to my new Substack! Let's start with an introduction.

A century ago, Dorothy Parker began writing a column at The New Yorker titled Constant Reader. She held nothing back from the page, whether it be flattering adulation or scathing takedowns. Even Winnie the Pooh wasn’t safe from her fiery tongue – it famously made her want to vomit. She was self-deprecating and self-effacing; charming at times but also rude and abrasive at others. As Sloane Crosley pointed out in the preface to a collection of Dorothy Parker’s reviews, “This is someone who felt all pleasantries had been dispensed with after typing the title of a book and the full name of the author.”

And I love her.

Reading her reviews reminded me of the importance of literary criticism – to celebrate victories, to challenge drawbacks, to give art the dignity of criticism. Because, ultimately, the reason Dorothy cared so much about what she read was her unwavering belief that there was intrinsic value in reading and writing. The name of this Substack is an homage to her.

An Instagram follower called Michael recently pointed out to me that whenever I review a book negatively, my review is imbued with a certain sense of regret, that it’s unfortunate that the book wasn’t enjoyable. I spoke to BBC Radio 4 about being an online book critic for the past five years, and my interviewer noted – totally independently – the exact same thing. I’d never really considered it in that way, but they were both right: every time I pick up a book, I’m rooting for it to be brilliant, and I’m genuinely devastated when it isn’t. I suppose that’s how my love for great literature manifests, in my belief that there will always be more of it to discover.

Samuel Johnson said to pursue perfection was to chase the sun, and that’s how I view this little venture. I’ll never be able to read every book; it’s an impossible goal; I’d burn out if I ever got close. But the entire time I pursue that goal, I get to bask in its warmth.

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When I was about 15, I precociously wrote to my local newspaper with a review I’d written of Suzanne Collins’ record-breaking dystopia, The Hunger Games. They politely told me they wouldn’t be publishing my work, but encouraged me to start a blog. I did, and this swiftly developed into a YouTube channel… and mutated into a TikTok account.

For a while I stopped sharing my commentary on books and focused more on my life at university. Ironically, I didn’t talk about the novels I was reading during my English Literature degree because I thought no-one would care. Turns out, a few of you do. I graduated in 2020, into what can only be described as a complete shit-storm. The pandemic raged on from the other side of my facemask, and I moved into an apartment alone with no wifi and no job. I’d sit outside a Pret A Manger which was serving takeaway coffee on Camden High Street, connect to their internet and discreetly download LinkedIn job applications for jobs in Publishing. While I searched for new roles (spoiler alert: they were few and far between), I’d upload videos I’d made about the books I was reading. As an English Literature Degree Survivor, I was trying to reconnect with reading for pleasure. “Adult” reading is introduced to us through academia, in a way that other art forms like music and film aren’t – we graduate naturally into consuming music and films as adults, traversing tenderly. But there’s something clunky about how we move from children’s books to Shakespeare and Steinbeck. Don’t get me wrong, I love those writers now, but being introduced to them as books you have to read rather than books you want to read definitely short-circuits the part of your brain that is receptive to reading. Through my YouTube videos, I documented the process of becoming a reader by choice again, and I think a lot of people resonated with that quest. Just like building muscles in the gym, it’s brain-training of both strength and endurance: the more I read, the more I enjoyed it.

I don’t know when you joined me on that journey. Maybe it was yesterday, maybe it was back during those bleak lockdown days when I had pretty horrendous bleached hair… the physically manifestation of my post-uni crisis. Maybe you were bored during COVID too, maybe you’d baked all the banana bread there was to bake, or finished another game of Monopoly with your family threatening to kill them. Maybe you’d learned one TikTok dance too many, and you finally turned to reading. I think in that time, during COVID, we were all looking to reconnect with our old hobbies, and reading became a way for us to craft community in a time of isolation. Whether you joined me back then or very recently, I’m so grateful you’re here. You have made me feel so welcomed and appreciated. You have introduced me to new books and new styles of storytelling. You have corrected me when I was wrong or uneducated, and helped me continue to grow. You have kept me on my toes. It has been an absolute pleasure.

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The first semblance of a modern book club was in 1634 when sailors’ wives came together to discuss Bible verses they were reading. Imagine how world-altering that text would’ve been, exploring and explaining the Earth they inhabited. The purity of that fascination is something I try to inject my own reading with. Because we are so lucky that people have distilled their lifetimes of experiences into something tangible: a 300-page novel we can hold in our hands and read.

I hope you feel a little bit of that literary alchemy here on my Substack.

James Baldwin said “You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive.” That is what books have the power to be. Realising that Dostoevsky articulated your exact sentiments in the perfect sentence hundreds of years ago… is there anything more affirming?

I’ve committed my life to reading and celebrating the craft of writing, and so I wanted to find a new space to be as thorough as I like, and talk about every book I read in depth. I want to channel the fascination of the sailors’ wives in their 1634 book club, just as much as I want to channel James Baldwin’s gratitude for literature, Samuel Johnson’s endless pursuit for perfection, and Dorothy Parker’s commitment to challenging the material she encountered. With all that in mind, welcome to Jack Edwards, Constant Reader. I’m so delighted you’re here.

With love,

Jack