Is a positive book review an endorsement?
[Last week, book endorsements came up in a discussion thread on Goodreads, the best social media site for readers and writers. That little exchange motivated this blog post. Comments are always accepted.]
Product endorsements are as common as eyes on a potato. If you ever did any “live experiments” in grade school general science “labs,” you know those eyes can sprout. Mark Watney knows that a good dose of fertilizer helps, but the sprouts will come even in sugar water (maybe even tap water if it’s not from Flint, Michigan). For product endorsements, it’s a mixed bag whether those sprouts mean something positive or negative, although they meant survival for Watney (and a place to put bodily waste).
I tend to ignore books with endorsements written by famous authors. NYC’s publishing industry is a lot like Hollywood’s movie industry—it’s incestuous. I don’t know whether it’s old authors (old movie wonks for Hollywood) wanting some kind of young and adoring disciples, or whether it’s some mistaken perception that only they can discern new talent (what about the readers or moviegoers?), but I’m always suspicious about this. I once reviewed a thriller that was just OK—it was set in Boston, and I wasn’t too happy that the author got some of the “local color” wrong, for example. The author’s next book was endorsed by someone (Patterson or Preston probably—whoever it was, I remember I wasn’t a fan)—I never read any more of that author’s books!
In Latin America, it’s called “la palanca,” which can be translated as leverage or influence. There and here it usually goes far beyond simple references for a job application, getting an appointment to see someone for a business deal, or completing an application to attend college. From the receiver’s point of view, it’s a way of eliminating competition; from the giver’s point of view, it’s often a way of currying favor—scratch my butt and I’ll scratch yours. In the worst cases, it’s a way to get around equal opportunity laws, what few there are.
I’ll never do an endorsement for that reason. In my previous life in academia, I wrote letters of recommendation for my students. They usually didn’t say much more than I knew the student, s/he was a good student, and s/he deserved some consideration as a person who had proven her/his work ethic and creativity. I suppose that’s “la palanca,” but those kind of endorsements (references) are largely a formality. No harm caused; no major advantage received.
In my second career, an R&D day-job, I often interviewed job applicants. I’d check off that they had a resumé and the required number of references and then begin the real conversation by waving those sheets at the applicant and saying, “This is what you’ve done in the past. What are you going to do for us in the future?” That either made them feel very nervous, or feel happy they’d gone beyond all that formalistic nonsense to where they could actually demonstrate some ambition and intelligent thought (those were the ones who often got the job).
I should correct myself: I will do an endorsement and am happy to do so when no one has asked for it. That’s the best kind of endorsement. For example, on my website page “Join the Conversation,” I endorse Hanna Hats of Donegal. No one asked me to do that, least of all Hanna Hats who don’t know me from Michael Collins, but I was happy to do so—they make great hats that are stylish and keep my balding crown warm in the winter (good for exuberant AC in the summer too). In that sense, a book review can be an endorsement if it’s unsolicited. But I doubt that those endorsements on the back covers of print books are unsolicited. Most of them suffer all the negatives I mentioned above plus the added one that says that particular “famous author” is too damn lazy to write a review.
But reviews aren’t just product endorsements, although Amazon treats them that way. They’re satisfied with just the star-rating because they can calculate their averages, but they cover their you-know-what by saying they must be more than so many words (but less than so many too). Many reviewers (?) stick with that minimum, their reviews not much more than “atta-girl” or “atta-boy” or “this sucks!” Those are endorsements, whether negative or positive, but they aren’t good book reviews. A good book review doesn’t have to be an MFA critique assignment where you pull the book apart and make a complete literary analysis, treating all fiction components including the psychological reasons why the villain is doing his dastardly deeds. A good review only has to list what the reader/reviewer liked or disliked and why (presumably the reviewer read the book—I had one who didn’t, so I add the word “reader”), simply and succinctly in plain English so other readers and the author can understand what s/he’s talking about.
For some reason, that’s hard, if you measure results by the reviews on Amazon—they follow Sturgeon’s Law quite well. It’s become so bad that I don’t use reviews to select my own reading, although I try to check them occasionally for my own books. I’ll take anything I can get, but readers want information and authors want to learn from their reviews about likes and dislikes. Especially at the beginning of a writing career, reviews can provide useful information to authors. And good ones can help readers make their buying decisions. But what are some of the things that constitute a good review?
Titles? I had one reviewer take one of my titles a wee bit too literally. He stated that he considered it deceptive. While a bit absurd, that comment had information content—for readers, in that they wouldn’t have any chance of misinterpretation if they read the review, and for me, as more data to show title selections are very important (I select them carefully, but obviously the title I come up with doesn’t work for some people).
Plot? Is it complex or straightforward? Does the mystery have some nice twists? Does the thriller keep moving forward at a heady pace? It isn’t enough to say “I liked (or disliked) this plot.” That’s no more than a vote on American Idol, a statement with zero information. You might as well be hitting a Facebook “Like” button (is there a “Dislike” button now?). But you don’t have to embellish very much. “I disliked this plot because I couldn’t follow where the author was taking me and it didn’t make sense.” Or, “I liked this plot because it seemed so real and not contrived.” Whatever. A few more words will do wonders for readers and authors alike.
Characters? “I just couldn’t relate to the protagonist.” That statement has a wee bit of information, but saying why adds more. “I just couldn’t relate to the protagonist because no real human being acts this way.” Assuming the protagonist is not an ET (I already used that idea in a novella, by the way), this adds more information.
There are many other story elements you can comment on: settings, dialogue, use of body language, and so forth. And you don’t need to consider them all, only what strikes you as notable. In one or two short paragraphs—don’t treat this like a high school English book review where Mrs. Harridan requires so many words or pages—you can convey useful information to readers and the author. If you’re really ambitious, you can even comment on…
Editing? Most readers realize that books are software, and everyone knows there’s always another software bug. As a reader, I generally work through copy editing errors if I like the above elements, especially the plot. (Some readers are ready to send the author to the electric chair, though.) Content editing errors represent higher hurdles to jump over. “The author changed the pursued car from red to blue in the middle of the car chase.” “The lady bank robber changed from brunette to blond while following the manager to the safe.” Those statements have real information content and possibly indicate the author doesn’t pay attention to details (and makes a good argument for having beta-readers). “Women didn’t have those kind of shoes in 1860.” “An X pistol doesn’t use Y bullets.” Same idea. Or simply, “I would have spread all that extensive back story into multiple flashbacks during quiet interludes between battles.” While the latter is a more erudite comment and possibly a major error in content editing (but also possibly a stylistic question), it’s already clear that the reader/reviewer didn’t like it without even saying so.
Writing reviews for Mrs. Harridan probably wasn’t any fun for you, but writing book reviews for the books you read can be rewarding and useful for readers and authors. Unsolicited reviews can be the most fun—no one’s putting you on the spot. In my case, I feel like it’s bringing some good karma my way by giving something back to the community of readers and writers. Not enough of that comes back my way (my books don’t have enough reviews), but what the hell? We volunteer for a lot of things out of the goodness of our heart and don’t expect anything in return, so why not with book reviews?
About those free complimentary copies? They’re usually associated with solicited reviews, one way or the other (a reviewer wants to review a particular book, or an author wants a reviewer to review her/his book). The industry standard phrase, “a free book in exchange for an HONEST review,” should always be understood, with emphasis on “honest.” (You can review any of my books for free in that sense.) That word “honest” is key. Book endorsements seem to hedge on that. Half the time one wonders if the endorser, that “famous author,” has even read the endorsee’s book. And that, my friends, is why a GOOD, POSITIVE review is NOT a product endorsement—it’s much, much more.
In libris libertas….
