Reviewing is taking up a fair bit of my time lately. I think I should probably spend more time writing my own stuff than writing about others, but I love reading, and when I find something brilliant I really want to share.
Anyway, I pride myself on integrity and honesty and all that good stuff.
But.
Yes, but.
I am not putting up reviews of books I don’t like.
I feel concerned for the author; they may be offended, they spent time writing the book, who the fuck am I to trample on their words?
And yet…
A lot of the books I recently read were proof copies. I read 9 proofs in the last few months, and of the 9 I thought that 1 was good. Not my kind of book, but good. I expect it to do well and I will be glad when it does. The other 8 were varying degrees of not good. From disappointing to utterly shite. Now they are appearing in the bookshop, being reviewed in the papers and online. I am feeling a wee bit disgruntled actually. There is definitely a jealousy thing going on. A “this crap is published whilst I struggle” feeling.
I read a review on a respected blog yesterday that said one was ‘a cracker’. I found it trite, obvious, dull. I was going to post a reply to that effect, but then the publisher posted, said how pleased they were with it, how hopeful they were for its success. I’d be wrong to damn it, not that I think loads of people listen to me, but…
What if that was my book? What if finally I finished my novel, and it was published, and someone influential said it was ace, and then someone else said, no, actually I though it was caca? How would I feel?
So. What do you think? Is it best just to keep my mouth shut?