Unless you write in secret and never show anyone your
stories, sooner or later someone will give you feedback. It could be a relative
or classmate, or the editor of the school literary magazine. Or friend with
whom you’ve swapped fanfic. What you want to hear, of course, is that they
loved it. And chances are that’s what they’ll say, either because they’d love
anything you wrote or they’re so impressed that anyone they know wrote
anything, or they have no idea how to evaluate a piece of writing. If your
friends are still in high school, they might have a passing acquaintance with
writing book reports, but that’s not helpful in critiquing a manuscript.
I think this stage in the development of writers, readers,
and reviewers is just fine. We all start out with boundless enthusiasm and
undeveloped critical ability. When a writer is just starting out, praise and
encouragement are a whole lot more helpful than disapproval. Case in point: the
story of the Wranglers and the Stranglers (attributed to Arthur Gordon in A Touch of Wonder). Various versions run
something like this:
A group of male college students with literary talent formed a club. They met regularly to read and critique each other's work. These men were merciless with one another. They dissected the most minute literary expression into a hundred pieces. They were heartless, tough, even mean, in their criticism. They were so relentless in their criticism that their group became known as “The Stranglers.”
Not to be outdone, the women of literary talent in the university were determined to start a club of their own, one comparable to the Stranglers. They called themselves the "Wranglers." They, too, read their works to one another. But there was one great difference: the feedback was positive. Sometimes there was almost no criticism at all. Every effort, even the most feeble one, was encouraged.
Twenty years later of all the bright young men in the Stranglers, not one had made a significant literary accomplishment of any kind. From the Wranglers had come six or more successful writers, some of national renown such as Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, who wrote The Yearling.
Talent between the two? Probably the same. Level of education? Not much difference. But the Stranglers strangled, while the Wranglers were determined to give each other a lift. The Stranglers promoted an atmosphere of contention and self-doubt. The Wranglers highlighted the best, not the worst.
That’s what we need to get started: kindness and
encouragement. Eventually, however, most of us encounter situations in which we
benefit from critical feedback in order to overcome our own creative blind
spots. And once we’ve started publishing, whether with a traditional publisher
or self-publishing, we enter a new realm: our work being reviewed.
A review is not a book report, nor is it a manuscript
critique. It could include formal literary analysis of the academic sort, or it
could be more casual and personalized to the reviewer. It could appear in a
small home town newspaper, a literary journal, a genre magazine like Locus, or online, either in the reviewer’s
blog, GoodReads, LibraryThing, or a book-selling site. Chances are the reviewer
will be a stranger, someone who knows of you only through the words on the
page.
Some writers – a small fraction, I suspect – possess the
self-discipline to avoid reviews. Most of us can’t resist. We want to know how
much the reviewer praised our literary offspring. It’s wonderful when we get a
thoroughly positive review, but devastating when a reviewer says caustic,
negative things. It’s even worse when it’s clear the reviewer has either not
understood what the text said or obviously never read it. (This happened to me
with a book that had not yet been released, and only the editor and I had
copies of the file.) Reviewers can also have personal agendas in eviscerating a
book. I call these “revenge reviews.”
What is an author to do in the face of a negative review?
First, find a safe place to let your feelings settle. Don’t
pretend it didn’t hurt when it did. The goal is let go of that upset so that
you can move forward with the next project, but most of us need a moment or
twelve to allow the adrenalin to drain away and to regain our composure.
Sympathetic fellow writers can help, but not ones who tell you to get over it
before you actually are over it. Let’s face it: having our precious literary
offspring shredded hurts.
Second, decide whether there might be something of value to
you in the review. You can’t do this while you’re upset, but you might be able
to do it once you’re calm. The reviewer might have an axe to grind, but they also
might see things you missed. Remember, you view the story through the lens of
your intention, your dream for the story, but the reviewer sees only the words
on the page. They might catch places where, even with the best editing in the world,
the words fall short in capturing the story that played out between your ears. You
might conclude, after consideration, that the reviewer was either careless or
biased or just didn’t get what you were doing. It’s fine if you never way to
read that negative review again. But it should be a conscious decision.
What shouldn’t you
do?
Respond, either publicly or privately. Just. Don’t. Do. It.
No matter how hard you want to give that #$%^&* reviewer
a piece of your mind, refrain. Even if there’s a crucial piece of information
they missed, refrain. Even if they gave the book a terrible review because the
book-seller shipped it a day late, refrain. Even if It’s Just Not Fair What They Said, refrain.
Writers often become reviewers (although not all reviewers
are writers). I’m among them. I try to review all the ARCs I receive, and I
also review for NetGalley. Not too long ago, I reviewed a book by an author
unfamiliar to me. In my typical style, I began with how much I loved the
premise and how well certain elements were handled. But I encountered problems
having to do with larger issues, in this case, the moral and ethical implications
of certain aspects of the story. I ended by saying that other readers might
feel differently. I appreciate it, though, when a review sparks a discussion of
issues, cultural or political or, in this case, ethical. As usual, I linked to
my blog review on various social media sites and, also as usual, I tagged the
author’s name and book title. The author was Not Amused and shot back a
complaint that I had posted a “mediocre review” and how offensive it was to tag
them with multiple posts.
So what should a reviewer do?
Much the same thing as a writer. Refrain from public
response.
However, it seemed to me that this was an opening for
discussing reviews from the reviewer’s as well as the author’s perspective. I waited,
then scrubbed off anything like an identifier, and posted:
Note to authors: when someone posts a thoughtful, mixed review, it is not professional behavior to whine publicly to the reviewer. A "mediocre review" may in fact be just the thing that gets a reader to pick up the book and become a devoted fan.
As I’d hoped, this led to a discussion on several social
media sites about reviews. Perhaps I erred in being too specific in quoting the
phrase, “mediocre review.” As far as I know, no one connected my post with the original
complaint. That does not justify what may have been overstepping the “Do Not
Respond” rule. Unprofessional public behavior on the part of the author being
reviewed does not justify unprofessional behavior on the part of the reviewer.
We’re all a work in progress.
Various sequelae: I will be reviewing the author’s next
book. The author took down the complaints on social media. Much good discussion
engaged a number of readers. This post arose from those conversations, and
will, I hope, furnish food for continued thought about our public discourse on
literature.
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