I’d been idly scrolling when I came across the review of my friend’s book in Major Media Outlet. Suddenly, neither my thumbs nor my eyes could move fast enough across the screen, prioritizing speed over comprehension, intent on rapidly reaching the end so I could send the inevitable OMG MAJOR MEDIA OUTLET!!!!! text.

Upon reading the review’s closing sentence, however, I did not click to my text messages. Rather, I scrolled back to the top and read the review again, this time more slowly.

And. Then. I. Read. It. Again.

By the time my friend texted me about the review, I’d already drafted a lengthy, moderately coherent but mostly ranty letter to the editor in my notes app. It wasn’t that the review was negative; it was that the analysis was way too thin to have jabbed so hard. The reviewer, not a critic but someone on one of the publication’s many news desks, seemed more interested in their own snark than in examining what was working, or not working, in the book. The review was, in my opinion, the biggest offense of all: lazy.

I submitted my letter (tightened, revised, less ranty, and more thoughtful). And even if it had been published (I was correct in my assumption that it would not be), it didn’t feel like enough. Major Media Outlet works on a freelance model, which means, in theory, it could have had its pick of critics to engage with the book. That it instead plucked a reviewer from its own news desk said one thing to me: This was systemic. Major Media Outlet wanted a Black critic to engage with work from a Black author, and their bench is, apparently, woefully shallow.

I’ve set out to deepen it — for my friend and other Black writers, yes, but also for myself. After more than two decades in Big Corporate, I made a major, midlife, pandemic pivot to follow my literary dreams. And while I’ve been nurtured in those endeavors by the National Book Critics Circle and several criticism outlets, as well as by countless Black arts and literary organizations, I struggled to find something devoted solely to Black literary critics.

So, I started Black Lit Crit, a weekly newsletter dedicated to Black literary criticism. It’s a place for readers to find literary analysis that challenges and resonates; a place for publicists and editors to find critics; and a place for critics to find community. The newsletter — which is 100-percent human created and curated, notwithstanding these thoughtfully placed em dashes — aggregates literary reviews by Black critics alongside critic and author interviews.

I also maintain a Black Critics Directory on the site that includes work samples and contacts. And on the first of each month, I publish an “On the Horizon” issue with forthcoming books by Black authors and one-click contacts for requesting review copies.

With Black Lit Crit, I hope to create a flywheel. I hope to eliminate the barriers, real or perceived, to editors engaging with talented Black critics. I hope to alleviate some of the “pitching into the void” that critics have to do by elevating them and their work. And I hope readers will find their new favorite book or critic.

If you are a Black critic with a recent byline who would like to be included in the Black Critics Directory, you can do so here. Authors or critics who would like to be considered for an interview can contact me here. And if you are a review editor with a specific need (beyond “pitch me something”), I would be thrilled to publish your request in the newsletter. Please email or DM me.

Sullivan Summer is an independent scholar, critic, essayist, poet, host of “Additions to the Archive with Sullivan Summer,” a New Books Network podcast, and creator of the Black Lit Crit newsletter on Substack.