Review on Reviews
How useful are reviews in getting readers to buy books? I’m not sure to be honest. If I think about reviews I’ve encountered, probably a handful have enticed me to engage with a book. These have been in the world of fiction. On the non-fiction front, I’ve generally been taken by the title or brief synopsis indicating that the book is relevant to my field of study.
Returning to the fiction reviews, it has been interesting to see how I have distinguished between reviews of old and new books by the same reviewer. One person in particular springs to mind. A successful African author in their own right and whose books I enjoy has been instrumental in exposing me to significant writers of yesteryear who produced hard-hitting fiction which went against the grain. However, I’ve been more reluctant to engage with current fiction they’ve promoted – invariably as the publisher of that work. Why is this? As a publisher myself, I’m conscious of how others see me reviewing or promoting TSL authors. Is there something in the way publishers write about the books they’ve published which differs when they write about other books? To overcome this bias and to deal with genres I wouldn’t normally engage with, I embarked on Author Appreciations as a way to let readers know what I appreciate about a particular author’s writing. It’s a review of a different kind, but whether it’s effective or as effective as a traditional review is hard to say.
Reviews are subjective – whether it’s allocating stars (your 5* is allocated on different criteria to mine), writing a few words or doing a full review including a synopsis, the review is inspired by how tge reader engaged with the book at a particular time and in a specific place. Reading the book for the first time (again if it were possible) at a different time and place would likely elicit a different reaction. I always think of my encounter with Alan Paton’s Cry the Beloved Country in this regard. A setwork at school in 1987 our class objected to reading it (the politics of the time was too fraught for our 16 year old minds). However, when I finally got round to reading the book in my early 40s, I was hugely grateful I hadn’t read it before. The power of Paton’s story telling would, I believe, have been lost on 16 year old me and I would not have engaged with the book again. I see the same with the film Invictus and District 9, both of which I watched for the first time years later. Reading The Good Vicar, in contrast, about seven times for various reasons brought new insights to the fore each time, while reading Woken on an e-reader first time reduced the impact of Sue’s writing which I only recognised when reading it again in paper form. What attracts me then to buy a book of fiction is not the emotion or feeling of the reviewer but rather the context of the book. Who the author is/was, when the book was written and what the main thrust of the story is. But please don’t tell me the story – it’s the quickest way to get me not to buy a book (the same with blurbs which give the essence away). I want to go on a journey and be surprised, not checking to see if I guessed the plot right.
Then there’s the issue of not being critical about a book or saying you didn’t like it. Why not? Criticisms can be very helpful and aren’t always about the author. They can also be aimed at the publisher. A review of my second published book is a case in point. The reviewer pointed out that the title of the book did not quite tie up with the thread of the narrative. How perceptive and reassuring to hear! I’d complained about the title chosen by the publishing house’s marketing team but to no avail… it had the key words in it which would put it to the top of a search list on the topic (in the days before SOE etc).
I myself have been extremely critical about a few books. My anger at shoddy research and checking has shown through on occasion, my disappointment at reading yet another common retelling of an event with no new insights, my frustration at publishers/editors not being aware of how knowledge on a topic has moved on and thus promote basic introductions as breakthroughs and new knowledge. Should I not have written in this way? I recently read that there’s a tacit academic protocol that if you can’t be nice about a book, then don’t say anything. I’m not sure that’s the right approach… the number of people I’ve had thank me (not in/on public forums) for expressing my views has been incredible. The emotion aside, the reasons expressed are what have been valued. This is especially important for people new to a topic – how else do you know what to trust or not? I’m not saying trust my view as right – it’s a caution when using the text. And as hard as I can be reviewing other’s work, I have done the same with my own, using the opportunity to show how easy slip-ups can be. Authors reviewing their own work is frowned upon – why? It’s another way to engage with one’s readership. What I have written in this section mainly applies to non-fiction reviewing. However, I’ve seen a number of fiction authors or reviewers say that if a reviewer can’t give a positive review, don’t review the book. This makes no sense when one considers reviews are subjective. Not liking a book and saying why can be very helpful. I’m not advocating personal attacks – the review is about the content, flow, structure and storyline. In this day and age of self-publishing, balanced critical reviews can be most helpful to writers developing their style (and book layout).
Reviews are a sensitive topic. We all like to be praised. But is that the sole role of a review? I think not. Reviews are there to inform and guide potential purchasers and, where necessary, offer some insights for improvement and consideration to inform future writing.
[Image courtesy of https://unsplash.com/photos/black-and-white-typewriter-on-white-table–fRAIQHKcc0]
