What I Learn by Reviewing Other People's Books
I miss being the book reviewer for Sci-Fi Magazine. It's been almost a year since the publication unceremoniously shut down, and while there are lots of things about that that make me sad, losing that position is one of them. Not just because of the position (though saying "I write the book review column for Sci-Fi Magazine" did impress people and that was fun). But because I had a platform to introduce people to more than just big-name genre titles by well-known authors. I went out of my way to share lesser-known works that absolutely deserved eyeballs, and I was happy for a chance to do that on a broad scale.
But I also got a lot out of it. And while I was initially going to give up writing book reviews now that I had only my blog to share them on, I didn't want to lose that learning experience. If anything, with the extended creative block I've been enduring, I need that more than ever. And while the results aren't showing yet, the learning experiences are stacking up.
If you are a writer or want to be a writer, I recommend learning to write reviews. Even if you don't share them. Because the more you engage with other people's writing on a critical level, the more your own writing will improve.
A long time ago, I was told that if a certain behavior in someone really annoys you to an illogical extreme, there are good odds that you dislike that same behavior in yourself and are recognizing it subconsciously. While I don't believe this is an absolutely infallible rule, it does hold some merit. And I absolutely take it into account when something bugs me about a book I'm reading.
In fairness, sometimes a book just has errors. I've read a good number of books with little to no proofreading, stilted dialogue, characters' motivations spelled out for the reader as though the author thinks we're incapable of critical thought... those things stick out. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about more subtle, common, even forgivable errors. It drives me mad when an ending is rushed, when an intriguing piece of story isn't given ample time to stretch, when there's plenty of occasion for the author to motivate a character in a certain direction but relies on narrative causality anyway... and when I go back and read my own work, I notice that those are my own most common shortcomings.
Whenever I see something in a book that bugs me that much, and it's not structural or academic, I make a note of it. Then I go and look through my own past work to see if I can spot the same issue in my own writing. And yeah. I can. Quite a bit. And while it's fair to mention those things in my review of the book I've read, it's also a high sign for me to push myself to improve there.
The review process is also a never-ending crash course in learning the difference between what's bad vs. what's not to my tastes (and, inversely, what's good vs. what is to my tastes). This was something I had to learn quickly in my book review position.
One of the first books I reviewed was the exact kind of story I'm personally weary of—both thematically and in terms of overexposure of a trope—but my weariness of it does not influence the quality of the story. The question is never "Did Kara like this book," unless someone specifically asks me for my personal opinion. The question is, "Would someone who's trying to decide whether to pick this book up like it?" And someone who would be intrigued by the cover, the title, and the dust jacket blurb would definitely have liked it. Because they would specifically be seeking out the tropes I was tired of. There were some things to critique about the book in terms of pacing and realizing its own goals (which I'll get to in a bit), but my own personal feelings didn't apply.
Similarly, me liking a piece of media isn't the same as it being objectively good. I enjoy some real trash once in a while and I have no problem admitting it. We all have things we excuse because it's our vibe. And sometimes I read a book that's so my jam that I personally can ignore its structural shortcomings. But that doesn't mean they aren't there, and that doesn't mean that every reader is willing to be that much of an apologist for things they enjoy.
I briefly mentioned the issue of whether or not a book achieves the goals it sets out for itself, and that's another thing I've had to bear in mind. What is a story's goal, and does it get there? As with separating my taste from the objective quality of a book, I also have to separate a story's goal from what I'd like the story's goal to be.
For example, I read a book (which will go unnamed as I reviewed it for a specific publication and didn't review it that highly) which put all its eggs in one basket to the point of seemingly establishing a very clear theme. Then, with its final chapter, it seemed to lean into another that worked directly counter to what it had been building to the whole time—and not in a subversive way. Then there was an author's note carefully explaining that yes, the first theme was the intent... but if you need an author's note to explain the entire point of your book to the reader, something is up.
Occasionally, a book's goalposts are pretty bad, and that does need to be accounted for, too. I'm pretty sure I once read and reviewed someone's breakup book (again, will not be giving title or author). The author's goals were clearly to establish that humans will always be bad, women are all the same, and he'd be happier living alone in the forest with a loaded gun. He absolutely pitched straight through his own goalposts with confidence and not a shred of irony. This was one of the rare situations where meeting the book on its own terms just didn't feel right. And you will encounter that sometimes, and it's fair to call that out when you do. That requires the critical thinking to know when a book doesn't see eye-to-eye with you and when the author is just a mess.
With all that said, this has made me think much more about my own goals with every story... even if a story is meant to be a tie-in or a fun one-off or not particularly deep. What do I want to leave the reader with? How do I want them to feel as they go about their day? If I have characters who think and act counter to my own values (which is gonna happen all the time if there's ever going to be conflict and stakes), am I still managing to get my own feelings out there? I look back at stories like The Tale of Sir Hedwyn which, while fun to write and an interesting character piece, betrayed a level of hopelessness that I don't really vibe with. Everything else I've written for the City of the Saved line so far is a direct answer to that first story: attempting to inject hope back into the setting. The horrors persist, but so do we.
Again, this never has to be particularly deep thought, but it's fair to ask where you're leading the reader and what you're leaving them with. Hope? Fear? Curiosity? What will their day be like after they put down your book? The more I ask that, the more I find myself wanting to codify an answer for even the smallest writing projects.
At the end of all this, I want to remind people that rating and reviewing books—on Amazon, GoodReads, and so on—is one of the best ways to help an author. Especially an indie author. And reviewing books is one of the best ways to help you learn to engage with your own writing and the writing of others. It's certainly doing it for me... hopefully to a point that there will be movement soon on projects.
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