Some reviewers suffer from a phenomenal delusion. They think that their liking or disliking a novel determines the quality of the book. Likewise, the buyers don’t care if the reviewer liked it. What the buyer seems to like is the sheer number of reviews. That’s all. Well, that and, hopefully, they like the stars awarded to be higher than four.
The rest depends on the genre.
People who like action, mark down books offering a gentle relationship that matures slowly to a final conflagration.
People who like sex, mark down every book that is not sufficiently explicit to sate their frustrations.
People with dull lives look for escapes into fables of fantasy that give them a momentary escape from the dullness of their lives.
And then there are the egomaniacs who think that their opinions matter. The vast majority of people never read reviews. As mentioned, they look at the numbers. The more the merrier… No matter how insipid.
And then there are the most pathetic reviewers who, while quite unable to write an original word, take it upon themselves to criticize all writers who do not conform to their egocentric idea of what a book should be. Had the great writers of the past listened to their hackneyed platitudes, literature would never have introduced a new, original thought.
My thanks to those few who dared.
Like Franz Kafka.
And then, there are the saddest of them all who are only amused by killing, sadism, rape, and other demeaning traits of the lowest human species. Unless the writer spills blood on every page, unless women are mistreated, unless torture is described in minute detail, the book will get one or, at best, two stars. They call such books “slow”. I call such reviewers “perverts”.
And yet, we writers, need them.
No, not the perverts, nor the sexually frustrated spinsters, nor the dullest of the dull escapists, afraid to live their own lives to the full.
We need people who prefer literature to the reflection of banal writing on hundreds of TV channels. It is for them that we write. It is their opinion we long for.
So when all’s said and done, there are just two reasons for writing a review. One—to give pleasure and/or gratitude to the writer. And two—to try to destroy the book, or at least to diminish the writers’ usually, quite dismal incomes.
If you really suffer from delusions, please, read my book: Delusions—Pragmatic Realism. Delusions abound not just among reviewers but among the scientists and religionists who indulge in fundamentalism.
Creation ALWAYS means bringing something new to the phenomenal reality.
And originality is not appreciated by many. Hence, I write for the few, and to them, I shall remain forever grateful. Their reviews not only give me great pleasure but inspire me to keep writing. Such are many!
Thank you.
Thanks to all of you.
You know who you are.
No comments:
Post a Comment