(Let me just say, the next line you’re about to read isn’t describing my book.)
“Mangled and defaced, full of Inconsistencies, Contradictions, and Blunders.”
How’s that for a review (and for crazy capitalisation)?
What’s it for? And when was it written?
The reviewer was author and literary critic Charlotte Lenox, writing in the eighteenth century about Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing—which happens to be my favourite Shakespearian play (though I haven’t yet seen Love’s Labour’s Lost so I could be speaking too soon).
Want to hear another random classic review? See if you can pick the reviewer and book being reviewed.
“What do I find? An accurate daguerreotyped portrait of a common-place face; a carefully-fenced, highly cultivated garden with neat borders and delicate flowers – but no glance of a bright vivid physiognomy – no open country – no fresh air – no blue hill – no bonny beck. I should hardly like to live with her ladies and gentlemen in their elegant but confined houses.”
The reviewer was Charlotte Brontë and she was reviewing Pride and Prejudice.
What’s the point of all this?
I’m currently in the process of approaching reviewers to rate and review Be All My Futures Remembered. And I am incredibly grateful for every honest review I receive. (If you’d like to provide a review, then contact me for a copy of the book.) I really appreciate the generosity of people who take the time to put into words their thoughts on the books they read and share those thoughts with other potential readers (such as this lovely review that came in this week).
Screen capture from Goodreads.com
Having said that, just asking people to review my books plays with my head, but nothing plays with my head more than reading a review, whether it’s glowing or scathing or anywhere in between.
The reason? I should really let Creativity answer that, though I’m nervous to hand over to her as she’s not the most tactful of voices.
I can be tactful. Or am I thinking of tacky? The one where you sprout groan-worthy jokes? Or is more to do with fashion sense? Who knows! I rarely do dictionaries unless I’m swatting flies or randomly finding words I don’t know. My current favourite is zygodactyl, and I still can’t remember what it means, but doesn’t it look fun to say?
Where was I?
Yes, firstly: mangoes.
Do you like mangoes?
Turns out it’s not universal. Who knew? You haven’t lived until you’ve witnessed someone describe mangoes as awful, slimy, and hairy with a smell that just never goes away. And then what? Does it change the way you feel about mangoes?
Usually if you love something you continue to love it even if you see a mango hater’s point of view (I concede the slimy description, though mango slime is heavenly in my opinion).
But what happens when you go to make a dessert for a huge group of people, and you’d normally make mango cheesecake (because who doesn’t like cheesecake)? Do you change it to sticky date cheesecake to appease the one or two mango haters in the room?
And what happens when the one person who isn’t a fan of dates comes up and gives you feedback?
And then the person who doesn’t like passion fruit and coco puffs responds to your next offering? And the pattern goes on…
What’s the problem? Your offerings are not to everyone’ taste.
And really, reviews are mostly, if not completely, about the reviewer’s taste.
And the more you get caught up in trying to take into account other people’s tastes, the more you lose track of your own taste, which is what made you appeal to other readers who love your work. The more you try to make your creative output work for “everyone” the more you’ll guarantee it won’t work for anyone.
Yes, as paradoxical as it sounds, the more you try to please everyone, the less you’ll please those who love your work.
So, if you know you’re going to a mango hater’s place for dinner, don’t bring the mango, white chocolate, and tequila tart (I’ve just made that up, much kitchen testing must ensue!). But when you’re in your own home or out to dinner with others, bring out your mango favourites and not only thoroughly enjoy but also bring enjoyment to others. Don’t allow other people’s tastes to change the things that you love and that bring happiness to others.
There! Was that tacky enough?
Circling back to the subject of Pride and Prejudice again, contrast Charlotte Brontë’s feelings on the book with Jane Austen’s thoughts on her character Elizabeth Bennet which she shared in a letter:
“I must confess that I think her as delightful a creature as ever appeared in print, and how I shall be able to tolerate those who do not like her I do not know…”
Austen’s joy in her creation is a beautiful thing to see and it gave me such a thrill when I came across it. She loved what she was doing and she loved her characters—a love that has continued in her readers down through the centuries. Thankfully she never came across Brontë’s feelings mentioned above, their lives only overlapping by a year. But Brontë’s opinion has done nothing to dampen the admiration and adoration of many, many readers since. Brontë’s opinion was her expressing her taste, which she had every right to.
Tastes vary, and that’s okay. That’s exactly how tastes work. What matters is finding the inner strength to continue creating from your own taste even when you know it won’t appeal to everyone who picks up your book.
And ultimately, reviews aren’t for the writer. They’re for readers. In fact, a good review can play with a writer’s head as much as a bad review.
But what do you do if you have seen the review and now you’ve got negative words floating around in your head? That sounds like a good topic for another post.
In the meantime, what’s something you love that you know other people don’t agree with?