In 2016, A.O. Scott wrote an essay in the New York Times about the possible upshot of the internet in democratizing the field of cultural criticism. The piece’s title: “Everybody’s a Critic. And That’s How It Should Be.”
A decade later, and Scott’s rhetorical call to arms — “to be a critic … is to be a defender of the life of art and champion of the art of living” — still resounds while paradoxically ringing hollower than ever. The great renovation of the public sphere promised by social media hasn’t made things more habitable for critics; the virtual playing field hasn’t so much levelled as flattened into a sprawling landscape infested by anonymous bots, AI-driven algorithms and smooth-brained influencers.
Factor in the much-lamented erosion, bordering on extinction, of independently minded (or subsidized) print outlets, and shrinking arts sections at legacy publications, and it can seem futile for serious-minded writers to gain traction, or even a fingernail grip. Scott’s observation that criticism is precarious in the best of times begs the question of what happens when things are steadily getting worse. It’s hard to champion the art of living when nobody’s making one doing so.
Before you even ask, the founders and editors of the new online literary magazine Toronto Review — which launched on Monday — don’t profess to have solutions to these problems. Nor are they likely to make their potential contributors rich; the publication is a volunteer-run nonprofit. But the enterprising sextet of 20-something journalists, editors, scholars and designers making up its masthead are committed to their ambitious and optimistic mandate.
Their goal: to create a space worth occupying for fiction writers, poets and critics in Toronto and beyond, and to pay for vital, engaged culture writing at a moment when many outlets, established or otherwise, can only offer the devalued currency of exposure.
“I see our publication as filling a niche that exists elsewhere and carving a new space that should exist here,” said special projects editor Winnie Wang, who has written for the Star. “As readers of the New York Review of Books, Los Angeles Review of Books, London Review of Books and n+1, we see Toronto Review as the local response to those publications. Toronto is just as big, restless and talented as these other metropolitan cities, and we’d like to announce these qualities to the world.”
“The ‘Toronto’ in Toronto Review is important,” said reviews editor Adrianna Michell, who, like Wang, is a graduate of the University of Toronto. (In addition to alums from Western and Concordia, four of the site’s editors studied at U of T.) “Not because we only want writing from people living in Toronto or about the city, but because it’s such a global and diverse city. It’s the most linguistically diverse city in Canada, so if we want to accurately represent Toronto’s literary identity, we need to think expansively about what kinds of works we cover.”
Genesis of an online magazine
The question of exactly how local an online magazine can — or should — be is one of the many questions that’s been batted back and forth by Toronto Review’s brain trust since the wine-fuelled get-together in 2025 that served as the magazine’s primal scene.
“Like all the best ideas, Toronto Review germinated between friends yes-anding one another during a dinner party,” said essays editor Abby Lacelle. “Many of us are freelance writers and we vented about the difficulties of finding outlets that would publish the kind of criticism and fiction we’re writing. We knew we needed a venue here, in Toronto, that would have in its mandate the goal of championing Canadian voices on a world stage.”
“I remember reading an introduction to Elizabeth Hardwick’s essays where the writer talks about how Hardwick started the New York Review of Books with her friends,” fiction editor Emma Olivia Cohen said. “Though of course their set of circumstances is different than ours, this simple idea was a major source of inspiration and a catalyst: that a handful of dedicated friends could bring such a large project to life, and give themselves the permission to do so, rather than wait on an institutional body to grant that permission.”
As the co-organizer of the well-attended and “feral” experimental reading series Pack Animal, Cohen is aware of the city’s appetite for writing that’s worth sinking one’s teeth into. She thinks Toronto Review can feed that need: “Though many other fresh, lively and exciting reading series also started to appear — Oral Method, Crit Salon, Who’s Afraid? and Café Sprinkle, to name a few — it felt to me like there still wasn’t a place to bring this energy out of the ephemeral space and onto the page by publishing the writers I was most excited by, all in the same venue.”
“There is a need to take the work of Canadian writers, both emerging and established, really seriously,” added reviews editor Tia Glista, who will be assigning critiques of books as well as movies. One of the site’s first pieces, from “No Fault” author Haley Mlotek, concerns Toronto director Sophy Romvari’s acclaimed debut feature “Blue Heron.”
“In spite of the cuts to review sections or critics’ jobs at major publications, there is a lot of evidence to suggest that local readerships care about criticism,” Glista said. “This kind of long-form thinking with a text is so enriching, and I think in an era of fast, reductive TikToks and AI summaries, more generous, slow and frankly beautiful writing is resonating with people as a refreshing antidote.”
The challenge of getting seen
Finding a way to push against the short-attention-span tendencies of the internet while taking advantage of social media is one challenge facing Toronto Review straight out of the gate. The same goes for cultivating a vivid, distinctive esthetic brand to complement intellectually sophisticated content. The magazine’s scrappiness is exemplified by its literally foxy avatar, who can be spotted cutting a tricksterish figure across the website — a Canadian critter smaller than a walrus, and maybe more agile as well.
“I wanted this project to feel modern, cool, fresh and exciting for a reader to visit,” said art director Sonja Katanic, who worked with Cohen previously on a print zine called Plasma Dolphin. “The brand colours reflect a sort of serious, academic tone but paired with these bright, almost gaudy counterparts to bring a modern freshness. The merch is a bit cheeky, and we have a lot of ideas for opportunities to play in the future, with limited editions and perhaps some unexpected objects.”
“I’m interested in bringing communities together, and to invite the literary world to venture into other disciplines and find parallels between processes of creation or consumption,” Wang said. “This would involve understanding the ethos of the brand and finding a way to share those values while providing opportunities to writers to explore niche subjects. I’m also interested in events that involve performances, tastings and anything that encourages people to become curious about art.”
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