Reviews: The Great Divide

Reviews: The Great Divide

Q. How many reviewers does it take to change a lightbulb?

A. None – their job is to stand back and critique the way you did it – and they’ll be split down the middle as to whether you did it perfectly or whether you were hopeless.

An old variation on a long-standing joke. True, however, in the sense that for every ten books on the TBR pile, there will be ten different responses – and that’s the lifeblood of book groups everywhere. For an author, it’s a constant eye-opener that their words, their story, can be received so differently. I’m part of a small online critique group, and the general consensus – when we’re feeling brave – is that while we hope for a good review, there is something worse than a bad one, and that’s indifference. (Now there’s a philosophical debate!)

Whatever the risk, authors are constantly – if with trepidation – seeking readers’ reviews for their published work. The longed-for 4 and 5* variety are affirming. They can be re-posted, repeated, shared and boasted, all helping to bump up social media visibility of a book and, with those inexplicable algorithms, encouraging sales. Three stars? Tricky, not least because their Amazon and Goodreads interpretations are very different. 

At the other end of the scale, it’s a rite of passage to get a handful of one and two stars, often without any explanatory words. Which author hasn’t stared bemused, dejected or outraged at the one-star review that simply says, ‘Terrible’, or ‘Don’t waste your money’? (Why? At least tell me why? What was terrible? Was all of it or just some of it? Why?) And that’s without the vexing ,‘The book didn’t arrive/download’, markdown. As for the two-stars, in my experience, they’re often the most amusing. Take, for example, A Blonde Bengali Wife, my non-fiction travel memoir. My favourite complaints were: ‘There was no cricket in it’; then, ‘The title made me think this would be like The Kite Runner. It wasn’t’; and finally, ‘The main character is totally unbelievable’. I laughed and laughed over that last one.

At the time of writing, my debut novel, The Almost Truth, is three weeks away from publication and it’s a period of terrifying silence in reviewing terms. I can boast shamelessly about the early endorsements – who wouldn’t be delighted and eternally, lavishly, grateful for Sophie Hannah’s front cover praise (‘A gripping and brilliantly written novel from a huge new talent’) but what about the bloggers who have the ARCs and the readers I’ve encouraged (or coerced) to pre-order. What if they hate it? Or worse, what if they just ignore it? Answers on a postcard, please.

Learning not to agonise over the odd critical review – in the face of ten good ones – is probably a writer’s lifetime endeavour. You can’t please all of the people all of the time… etc etc. One piece of advice is never to read your reviews, another is to look up the thousand-plus responses to a high profile, bestselling author’s novel and find that the book ‘everyone’ loves still has its haters.

When I’m not writing, I’m a creative writing tutor and an editor. One of the things I edit is an online local magazine, Lothian Life, and being on the reviewed side of the equation does, I hope, make me a kinder, more balanced, and certainly more aware reviewer. I’m lucky enough to review (in a very minor way) an eclectic range: food delivery, theatre productions, M&S pies, face-creams, candles…and books, lots of books. What’s not to like?

But what if I don’t like? I’m not about writing bad book reviews; I know it’s a debatable issue, but if I don’t like something, I’d rather keep quiet – or (if it might be helpful) pass on my opinion privately. If it’s all about personal taste and I know someone else who will love the thing being reviewed, I pass it on to them: I‘m not a comic book or erotic short stories reader, but I know two people who are. If the problem is more fundamental, for example, a novel poorly written or executed, I’ll pick out a good point (dig deep, there’s always one), mention in passing something that ‘doesn’t work for me’, and settle on a fairly neutral description of the story. I always appreciate that at the very least, an author has written, finished and published a whole book.

On the flip side, something I do love is being asked to review a book that’s way out of my comfort zone or area of knowledge, and finding that I’m gripped. Love the experience or hate it, that widening of experience – and the confidence in sharing your own opinion – is invaluable in both writing and in life.

Right now, I hope people will read and review (preferably favourably) The Almost Truth. But, theoretically, anyway, I’m prepared for all stars. And if I come across a reader who is enthusiastic about it but anxious about reviewing  (How? I’m not qualified; I don’t know what to say) I’ll remind them that they don’t need fancy words – they’re not the writer, nobody will be reviewing their style and sentence structure – and a simple, ‘I really enjoyed it’, are truly the only words required to make an author’s day. Oh, and if they hate it? Well, I’ll just tell the dog why the one-star reviewer is wrong, practise on her all the brilliantly clever responses I could make, but won’t. Then I’ll eat chocolate. And then I’ll carry on writing.

https://linktr.ee/annehamilton_author 

Biography 

Anne Hamilton lives in Edinburgh with her newly teenage son and even newer puppy. She balances being a single parent with a chronic neurological condition and freelance work as an editor, and in adult education. With a PhD in Creative Writing, Anne is passionate about diverse and inclusive voices in her writing. Her first book, a travel memoir titled A Blonde Bengali Wife (2010) was based on her experiences in Bangladesh. The unpublished manuscript of The Almost Truth, her debut novel (Legend Press, forthcoming) was the winner of the Irish Novel Fair, and a short story adaptation of it is included in an Edinburgh Charity anthology, The People’s City.

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The Almost Truth

An extraordinary novel based on real events. 

When Alina’s son, Fin, traces his long-absent birthfather, it’s the catalyst for decades of secrets to implode in Alina’s neatly ordered life.

With the sudden appearance of Rory, and the ever-present pull of a very different life in Bangladesh, she’s left reeling.

Three relationships, all of them built on half-truths. All Alina can truly be sure of, is that you can choose your family, you just can’t choose who they will turn out to be.

A compelling story of family, secrets, identity, and a reminder that love and life can surprise you… right until the very end.

BUY HERE

 

Tags: featured, women writers

Category: On Writing