When Reviews Fail Authors
Much Ado about – Wow, uh, really?
Okay, so bear with me here… I’m mentally rambling on an concept that I want to chew on. Tangents will abound. My sincere apologies if you aren’t quite in the mood for it. Don’t say you haven’t been warned …
So I know people are entitled to their opinions. I know that those comments and feelings that they have on any topic is part of the game. I get that. Having spent a great portion of my life on the stage and having to deal with people’s opinions of the work on offer at the time is part of the gig that I signed on for.
But in this information age I think that it carries far more weight that it’s worth really.
And before anyone grouses out there about my going off on a tangent (you were warned, after all) we all best remember that trolling is a very real thing and can be very detrimental (if not outright scary) when it comes knocking at your door.
The problem is that everyone who isn’t a content creator thinks that their opinion trumps all who came before or after. And sometimes, shockingly enough, touted as being more profound than the creator who did the, uh, ya know: creating!
And I get that we want some sort of feedback as a creator. It is part of the cycle, isn’t it?
But then I read several reviews (and, to be clear, they aren’t all regarding novels, either) where the “review” is little more than a synopsis or a book report of what happened. If we all wanted to know that why would we read the book or see the movie or whatever?
I’ve always said I want an honest review of the work – with all of it’s blemishes and beauty marks as they may be. I am not afraid of criticism – as long as it is warranted. Haters who just love to bash something or do the equivalent of a “drive-by” assassination of the work simply for their own personal aggrandizement or back patting, is rather pathetic and will get an instant cold shoulder from me.
BUT, if you have a specific gripe or take on an element of the work that didn’t work for you – yay you! Doesn’t mean I have to buy into it as its creator – after all it is still my baby. My creation, my world.
So why the rant? Why the extolling and waxing prosaic on trolls, wanna be reviewers, and general haters?
Because I am sort of over the whole “what do you think about it.” At least on a personal level. I think Gore Vidal said it best when it came to the style of a writer:
“Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not giving a damn.” ― Gore Vidal
Great words. I’ve taken them to heart really. But then again, Vidal pretty much has been a beacon of intellect for me – it’s where I ground myself as a creator. So for me, as an author, I am really not so wrapped up in what others think to the point where it could cause me grief (especially if it appears they have an axe to grind with my work or are just generally mean spirited – that sort of muck rises to the top like floaters in the ocean from a broken sewage main).
What I do sort of grouse about is the terrible language that seems to permeate most of those reviews. In one I saw someone wrote that they didn’t like the vocabulary used (when it was clear that they meant dialog – I won’t cite the actual work out of kindness to its “author”). And they went so far as to confuse dialog with inner-monologue. These aren’t esoteric terms, people. And I re-read it several times to make sure that it was dialog that was the intended meaning. It was. But they used vocabulary – why?
Alas, sadly, that wasn’t the only instance.
In a very real way I sort of see the logic of why in traditional publishing they had that whole gatekeeping to qualify for publishing. Agents and inquiry letters were involved. There was a certain symmetry to it. And a real effort had to be made by an author to be heard. Now, not so much. They were there to ensure that the work was of, at the very least, a certain degree of quality. Experts who knew of proper story construct and characterizations.
Now, with the way things are anyone can (and often do) publish their works and are clearly in it for the adoration they think they so richly deserve. Most of the self-pubbed stuff out there is shit – poorly written, constructed and edited (Jesus, are there ever some crap-assed editors out there). And I am not saying this because I’m a Bitter Betty and want adoration coming my way. It’d be nice but it is NOT a requirement on my part. I will write either way. Why? Because I like what I am doing with it. I like putting worlds together, having characters grapple with it all. I love fleshing out their idiosyncrasies and foibles that have them blunder spectacularly to whip up the inherent drama (as a great opera singer friend of mine once said whilst we were backstage waiting to go on: no one ever comes to a happy opera – meaning: drama drives all).
And even in comedy, there has to be a small sliver of pathos or drama to create those peaks and valleys that allow us that a-ha moment of enlightenment that tickles both our funny bone and our intellect.
But for the most part, I think most reviewers voice an opinion to see their own name in print somewhere. Oddly enough, I actually read reviews. Not because I am envious of some other author being lauded upon to the point that brown-nosing is involved. Or as SJD Peterson once told me:
“…to the point where they are blowing so much sunshine up my backside that I get a sunburn from it.”
Yeah, I get that. There are those reviews where the audience member is simply enthralled with the idea that they are in some way interacting with the author on a personal level and need to praise them to ensure their being counted amongst the author’s favorites. And to a small degree, in some instances, that is sort of true (in a slightly, tilt-your-head-like-the-RCA-Victor-Dog sort of way). I mean it is no different than someone gushing over their celebrity crush or admiration for say, Benedict Cumberbatch’s latest work. I may applaud his performance, I may swoon over his choices as a fellow thespian – I may even be so lucky to have half-a-minute to converse with Cumberbatch himself and tell him so. Does that mean my opinion should be elevated because of this? No. I may have interacted with him but in no way does it mean I take whatever he created and say it has anything to do with me (other than a shared experience).
But with books, I dunno. I mean, they are a bit more intimate because it is just you, the reader, and the author who is imparting their imaginary (in the works of fiction) worlds to you. So in a very real way it is an audience of one. I get why so many readers feel a kinship with their favorite writers. But that line does get blurred by them an awful lot.
And let’s be honest here. Most of what is out there isn’t written for longevity in the populace. It isn’t written for posterity sake. It’s fluff – pure and simple. Most of it is written from the firm belief that “this one will crack through and become a big time best-seller.” It’s all about the sale, isn’t it?
The majority of them don’t make it. In fact, most never will. I read somewhere that like the world economy, the author spectrum is that 5% of authors make nearly all of the money made in books while the other 95% scramble for monetary crumbs. Oh there’ll be those fleeting books who find an audience several years or decades later (some even finding their “mass” audience and adoration after its author has long departed this mortal coil).
But it doesn’t mean that the reader has any real claim on the work at all. They may invest themselves in the work, they may even draw analogies from it and liken the experiences of their beloved characters to their own mundane existence, but they are never really a part of the work. Not to my mind, at any rate.
Take my latest, Angels of Mercy. Marco, Elliot and the rest of the ensemble cast have no knowledge of the reader’s part in the story (even if Elliot feigns breaking the fourth wall and addressing the reader directly – yeah, okay, that might’ve been a bad example on my part). They will continue to tell their tale the same way every time the book is opened and someone reads it’s opening line:
“My day at the Q went pretty much like any other day.”
Elliot will always begin the story this way. He won’t alter it for the reader because the reader may be in a particular mood. Those words will be the exact same thing each time the book is opened and read. Period.
Yet, as a reader, those same words can mean a great deal of things given the kind of day they are having. The reader does imbue a part of themselves into it on their part. So I get the connection to the work. But to my mind, and way of thinking, it doesn’t (or shouldn’t) change the dynamic of the work. Unless, of course, that the work was created with the sole intention of selling like hot-cakes. Then we’re talking a sell-out sort of arrangement and not a work that was created because its creator was artistically inspired to create something from a whole lot of nothing.
I get why audiences exist. I get that they will have a takeaway from the experience. But what I grouse about is that there are some pretty fucking stupid people out there who don’t have the life experience (some are born, live and die in the same patch of land they’ve been on their whole lives – how myopic can you get? I mean even a poor man can start walking one direction and be somewhere totally foreign to them within a day), they don’t stretch the meaning of their existence to grow and see what life truly has to offer. In most cases, they just have a general languishing apathy toward anything that would remotely give new meaning to their existence – save for the random book or movie they might experience.
Unfortunately, those are usually the same individuals who feel compelled to write about works as if they have something to offer in the conversation. I come to this conclusion because of people I’ve talked with who are avid readers but purposely do NOT review the books they read. Why? Because they either don’t have the time or the inclination to share their ideas with anyone else. They are in it (reading) for their own personal gain or pleasure from it.
So what are we left with? Book report reviews (seriously, I saw one that made a feeble attempt at a real review by writing a small and concise synopsis of the work before their actual review – thankfully they did their best to avoid spoilers for any blog/review readers who might happen upon the piece). Yet when they moved on from that brief book report, the actual review consisted primarily of expounding upon the synopsis they just wrote- thereby completely negating why they wrote the synopsis in the first place, leaving the last few sentences as bread crumbs on actually reviewing the work at all.
What are my author pal’s takeaways from it? “We don’t read them unless they’re great.”
Yeah I get that. It’s a lot of hard (and often very lonely) work that goes into them. Appreciation is nice if just for the – “wow, you really did that, didn’t you” sort of thing and not necessarily because it has any real entertaining value to it. Purely an appreciation of the mechanics and effort involved. And that’s a very good thing to feel from others – just an acknowledgment of the accomplishment of finishing it.
That’s great! Well done, you!
Fabulous words to hear, indeed. But the rest of it? Eh, not so much. Then there’s the added issue of authors who have padded reviews. Works that are reviewed by readers who just laud the work when it’s only been out for a day or so. Wow, uh, really? I mean when I released Angels of Mercy – Volume One: Elliot, one other author had 7 reviews ON THE SAME DAY OF RELEASE?! How in the fuck is that possible? I mean I know there are beta readers but seriously, this author writes a “book” every couple of weeks. I’ve read one of them – not much to get worked up over. Very thin plot, weakly drawn characters (despite how many fans were gushing about the powerful writing involved).
Seriously, is the bar that fucking low, now?
Perhaps that’s why the life-experienced deprived individual has a voice now. Because the works themselves are not very meaty to begin with. And the brevity of the works… what’s up with that? I can’t be bothered with a short novel. I know some love them. I am not of their lot. Not by a bloody long shot. Hell, I wrote HO’M,O – Henry O’Malley, Omega (a.k.a. – The Shrill of Sparrows (thanks Amazon for that clusterfuck of titles)) as a short novel and it KILLED me to be so damned curtailed in the writing. While I don’t think the story suffered from weakness in the prose because of this, it isn’t what I would’ve originally done. But it was a NaNoWriMo story so I knew it was going to be short as it was written in a month as part of the NaNoWriMo challenge.
But yeah, maybe the rise in mediocre reviews is because there is a lower standard of the works that are out there. I don’t know. I do know that by and large, I am somewhat disinclined to just buy a work because it’s on the cheap and got a boat load of 5 star reviews. Though I am just as guilty of playing the 5 star game. And it rankles me that I do. I struggle with it constantly. But I hired a mainstream promo group and they’re all about the self-promotion as my part in the game – I paid good money for it so I gotta be “all in.“ I bargained for that when I hired them so yeah, guilty as charged on that score. Actually, if it’s on the cheap that is usually a BIG red flag for me. Not saying it has to be worthy of competing with a bracelet from Tiffany’s where price is concerned, but a 99¢ priced novel or novella isn’t going to make me want to buy it on price alone. I played that game early on with my e-reader and have a ton of books I’ve tossed aside as unworthy of my attention.
Instead I’ll read crap-assed review after crap-assed review until I find one that I think is well written and THEY will be my barometer of whether it will interest me or not. In most cases I am simply disappointed that 95-98% of the reviews out there hold very little resemblance to an actual in-depth review that takes a serious look at the work at hand.
And that’s a real shame. I maintain that I will always trade thinly written 5 star reviews for a single gay or questioning boy who decides what I wrote spoke to him and his world – that I made that sort of connection to someone else, who like me, was desperate for a voice to say – You’re okay kid. Things are gonna be okay, somehow. Confirmation that my world, as imaginary as it might be, gave him a bright beacon of light to find a way in his own. That review may not be the best written, but if I can get a strong sense that it’s written with heart and deeply felt? Yeah, that’ll get my vote every time. I look for those reviews. I may write for me. But I also write for that guy and it’s those reviews that matter to me most.
Until next time …
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Author’s sidebar (to provide some context): So I’ve not been blogging as much as I should the past couple of weeks. Life fully inserted itself and pulled focus as it is wont to do from time to time. I had finals in school (yeah, this gay dad put his daughter through college before he ever got around to finishing his own schooling – guess I’m a good father that way), work was a bitch (isn’t that why it’s called work and not play? And on top of all of that I was busy trying to get my first novel to a publisher. Anywho, long story/short – I was busy. But that didn’t mean for a single second that I didn’t have things roiling around in my head just itchin’ to be hurled onto this here digital paper, right?
So here’s what I’ve been mentally riffing on in the back of my mind…
…whilst dealing with work, school, life and the book: traditional character re-imaginings. Now, normally, I am split on this topic. There are some icons in literature and movies/TV that I think are completely sacred. This is why I will NEVER watch Elementary (Watson as a woman = ludicrous). That was simply someone who was too lazy to finally play up and pursue the last step in the Sherlock/Watson bromance and actually make them (male) lovers and so, made it mainstream palpable by throwing a female into the mix. Uh uh, nothin’ doin’ there. So Sherlock’s sacred. As is James Bond – I wouldn’t make him gay for the world. He’s far too much of a romantic fuck-up to wish that on my fellow fey brethren. Now, Benedict and Martin’s Sherlock (set in modern day London)? Sign me the fuck up!
I could wax nostalgic over many such literary and media laden icons like these. But my thoughts were running rampant on a different sacred ground that I was just itching to see go GAY! Disney Villains.
I’d like to point out that I was totally smitten with a certain artist over at Deviantart.com by the name of Sakamichan who has some amazing artwork over there. There is a particular vein where the Disney princesses and villains have been reimagined as their Fae Boy counterparts. This got my creative juices flowing.
First up – Ursula vs. Urs
This could go in so many ways that the original Hans Christian Andersen tale didn’t. I could see Urs actually having the hots for Prince Eric and finding a means to torment Ariel that would take on a whole new meaning. That waifish little fish woulda had a tougher time with a studly and horny gay boy on her finned backside that’s for sure. But if we add a whole other gay boy layer of icing to this lovefest cake? What if Ariel were a merboy instead of that insipid carrot topped girl?
Next up: Cruella DeVille vs. Cruel DeVil
Now we’re getting to the meat of the matter – and I ain’t talking dog meat, neither! This gay fashionista would have added an intense sexual tension if he wasn’t only interested with the puppies but what if he was interested in wrestling a Roger Radcliffe who had dallied with his more prevalent bisexual past while in college. Perhaps Roger is bored with domestic life and Cruel finds the repressed and domestically whipped Roger irresistible? Hell, maybe the dogs are just the trip wire to snag what Cruel is really after? Some man on man action with said repressed husband? That sort of action might’ve made the puppies blush!
Okay, I know. This whole blog entry is rather silly. I get that. That’s where I am mentally after an exhausting round of school finals, work crap and a novel submission. But I have one more musing to propose and it’s a doozy –
The Grand Finale – Maleficent vs. MALEficent…
Now we’re cooking with gas…!
This whole thing would need a complete re-write. I see it as two brother’s dueling for the heart of one simple gay prince who doesn’t have a hope of finding the kind of love he truly wants. He’s probably a waifish man-child. A geek amongst princes – you know the type? Can’t swing a sword if he hired a knight to do it for him sort of gay boy? A King’s worst nightmare?
Only his father wouldn’t berate him. He’d love his shy but lovable little princeling. Now the real story would be about the battle between Prince Philip and Maleficent. In MY version the boys would’ve been half-brothers with Maleficent being the product of an illicit affair between his father and a comely witch. Maleficent would be that son. So as not to eschew him entirely he introduces Maleficent to his half-brother hoping that the two of them would grow close. And for a while they do. Until in their early teens they fight for the affection of a common but ruggedly handsome stable boy. When it seems the stable boy prefers the romantic overtures of Philip over the wanton sexual come-ons of Maleficent, Maleficent pulls a terrible stunt that costs the young stable boy his life. In grief Maleficent accuses Philip for the boy’s death and vows that one day he will visit a terrible curse upon his one true love.
The rest can sort of play out along those lines – with perhaps a replay of the same sort of love triangle between Maleficent and Philip over this new boy. Will the brother’s ever learn or are they doomed to repeat the mistakes of their past? Kitchy, I grant you – but isn’t that the very nature of fairy tales. Faery Tales like you’ve never imagined.
And here’s a twisted take on this whole re-imagining – what if Philip and Maleficent were trying to correct the mistakes of their past? Maybe behind closed doors Maleficent is into painting toe-nails and soft-pillows and chatting about fashion and romance literature. And what if Prince Philip was a total leather daddy now and wanted nothing more than to bend waifish Anatoli (which means East or Sunrise (Dawn) in Russian)? But, I dunno… I think I like Maleficent being the dominatrix-esque leather daddy, don’t you? Either way, you have to admit it would be a far cry from either the Grimm Brother’s take or even the Disney remake.
…or perhaps, like me, they’ve been the musings of your gay boy dreams?