http://www.amazon.com/Searching-Wrong-Eyed-Jesus-Harry-Crews/dp/B000E1OI8U/ref=cm_lmf_tit_29_rdssss0

'One of the things about the current intellectual climate of this country that I hate the most is this muddle-headed idea that every view expressed in a writer's work must in every instance be seen as representative of, and in total agreement with, what some critic or another perceives to be the prevailing view of some larger population on whose behalf the critic presumes to speak - be it a culture, a race, a religion, an entire nation, or in this case merely a small portion of one. And if in the critic's view the work fails to measure up to what the critic already has it in his mind the work ought to be or ought to say, then the creator of the work is chided for "being biased", "not objective", "not telling it the way it really is", "having an agenda", or what is far worse, of not being "fair and balanced" (Pardon me while I harf). '

...

'The truth is a writer's responsibility is only to his story. To tell it his way. In his own words. The story may correspond to the "real world", or to what some larger population of people perceives the real world to be but it need not and, in fact, shouldn't. Thus it's not so much that critics of this film miss the point when they say that it doesn't fairly represent all Southerners, it's that the criticism is more true than they realize. The film really does represent a narrow point of view, that of its primary narrator. But that's exactly what it is supposed to do and nothing more ... Some have criticized the film for lacking philosophical sophistication. Now who, I ask you, would have expected that of a film by and about poor Southern white trash? The fact is this film never intends to dissect Southern life, merely to ponder it, to brood over it, and at times to even sulk about it.

The point I'm trying to make is that this film is indeed as one reviewer has described it - a visual poem. Sadly, in our culture poetic musing has become such a dying art (God help us) that would-be critics afflicted with some sort of aesthetic myopia too often mistake it for flawed analysis. Don't let that happen to you.'