Rants and Raves: Things In Books That Float My Boat

This is a feature that appears sporadically on the blog, whenever I have a bookish issue I need to rant or rave about. Feel free to comment with your thoughts!

 Earlier this week I blogged about things in books I'm just not that jazzed about. Now, it's time to talk about things in books that float my boat.

(Again, this is partly inspired by my recent paring-down of my Goodreads to-read list, and also by Small Review's similar posts Talk to the Hand and Give Me That Book!)

These are all things that hit the right notes for me, for whatever reason:

- Victorian/Regency era. I don't know that I really need to explain this, do I? The formalities. The balls. The perceived social slights. I drink it all up.

Gratuitous P&P picture.

- Anything with a psychological element, especially if it's used in an interesting way with the storyline. Caveat: mental health issues MUST be portrayed accurately. Otherwise this will backfire badly and probably cause me to get more aggravated than if there had never been any psychological element at all.

- Gothic anything, pretty much. Depends how much it falls on the side of horror (usually a NO for me) versus suspense/mystery/thriller (YES). Double points if it's a historical Gothic setting (not just a general sort of Gothic atmosphere in a modern-day setting).

- Historical fantasy/pseudo-historical fantasy. By the latter I mean, the story takes place in a world that FEELS like it's a medieval fantasy or whatever, but it's not actually set in the real world. Or maybe it is but you don't know because that isn't made clear. Whatever, as long as there are heroes and heroines off on quests, and princesses doing princess-y things, and maybe a meddling sorcerer or two, I'm happy.

- Witty banter and unresolved sexual tension. Hey, if it was good enough for Jane Austen, it's good enough for everybody.

"The Look," for everyone's appreciation.

- Star-crossed lovers/forbidden romance. Because if the couple isn't bickering (see above), then the conflict has to come from *somewhere*, so we must rely on external forces to part them! And nothing makes you want to root more for a couple to get together than if everyone else is trying to separate them.

- Non-human beings slowly getting in touch with their "human"/emotional side. I probably haven't read all that many books where this has happened, but I do like it when it does! Examples that spring to mind are Isabel in Mistwood by Leah Cypess, and Wanderer in The Host by Stephenie Meyer.

- Twins and clones. Twins because they can switch places and fool people, or have a special "twin connection" of some sort (which needs to be written well, mind you), and clones because they are a creepier version of twins. (Although clone stories are only interesting if the clone has a distinct personality; if it's just used as some sort of plot device in a sci-fi story and the clones are like robots, I'm out.)

- Fairy tale retellings. Love 'em. I prefer ones that are set in a historical/fantasy setting, however – I'm a little more iffy on modernized or sci-fi-ed fairy tales.

What elements/premises/tropes in books float your boat? Do you share any on my list?

Rants & Raves: Things In Books I'm Just Not That Jazzed About

This is a feature that appears sporadically on the blog, whenever I have a bookish issue I need to rant or rave about. Feel free to comment with your thoughts!

The other day I finished going through my Goodreads TBR list and paring it down. It had gotten to over 2200 books and I'd seen another blogger (I think Jamie from The Perpetual Page-turner, perhaps?) saying that they'd been weeding out books they're not likely to read from their list, so I figured I'd do the same. (I am now down to below 1850 books, so I am feeling good about it! Even though that is still a massive amount of books, lol.)

Anyway, during this process, I've noted certain elements or aspects of books that make me go, "Ehhhhh I'm probably NOT going to like that" so I've compiled some of them in this blog post. (Don't worry, there are others that make me go, "oh YES I'm keeping this on the list, how have I not read it already?!", and they'll be catalogued in another post!).

This was also inspired by Small Review's similar posts Give Me That Book! (which I happened to stumble across recently and got me thinking, 'I should do a post like that too...') and Talk to the Hand.

So without further ado, here are things in books that will make me raise an eyebrow and think twice about adding to my TBR list...

- Trolls. I just... they're gross? Usually? Sorry, troll fans. Maybe point me to a book where they aren't portrayed as ugly, hulking, clumsy beasts who like to gnaw on unsavoury things. (Same thing with zombies, really, unless they are portrayed in a very un-gross way. Also not a fan of demons or goblins. I get creeped out easily, okay? :P)

- Cheating. This one depends a lot on the situation and how it's written, but as a general rule, I am not a fan of characters cheating on their boyfriends/girlfriends/spouses/what-have-you (I don't condone cheating in real life, so I am not thrilled to read about it in my books. It will definitely lower most characters in my opinion.) Similarly, I'm also not big on characters who lead on two (or more) people at the same time.

- Circuses. Clowns kinda freak me out and seeing poor animals forced to do tricks is not my idea of a fun time. Circuses always seem like they have a great capacity to go really WRONG.

I genuinely don't get why anybody LIKES clowns.

- Talking animals. These are hit-and-miss for me, but here's a detailed post explaining it.

- Nasty, mean-spirited, backstabbing characters who have no redeeming qualities and do not learn their lesson. Wuthering Heights, I'm looking at you. Also, the Luxe series. And Vicious.

- Really "zany" characters who are just TOO out there, and make a point of being quirky because they want to prove how different and special and unique they are. Believe me, if there was a convention for all the quirky/zany/"unique" YA characters, they'd realize really fast how many of them there actually are. (The blogosphere seems to be divided on these sorts of characters — half of it appears to love them, the quirkier the better, and the other half... doesn't. I usually fall into that latter half, particularly with contemporary books where there are just one or two zany characters, while everybody else is "appallingly" ordinary.)

- Superpowers/superheroes. I was never into Superman/Spiderman/Batman/whatever-else-there-is growing up (either the comics or the movies), so this sort of premise just doesn't tend to appeal to me. I don't read books for non-stop action-y fight scenes, and I feel like that is what most of these books would be.

- Computer hackers and virtual realities. Start talking code and you will see my eyes glaze over. Geeky discussions of technology hurt my brain. I can't visualize what's going on and I get really bored.

What are some elements in books that will make you go "uh, nope, not reading THAT"? Are any of them on my list?

Stay tuned for the next post, where I talk about some things in books that get my hearty stamp of approval! 

Rants & Raves: The Value of (Thoughtful) Negative Reviews

This is a feature that appears sporadically on the blog, whenever I have a bookish issue I need to rant or rave about. Feel free to comment with your thoughts!

This post was inspired by the amusing video put together by The Midnight Garden, which featured various YA authors reading excerpts of negative reviews of their books. To all those authors, I say kudos for having the guts to do that!

While making me smile, the video also got me thinking about why, as a reader and blogger, I often appreciate reading negative reviews. I feel like everyone gets so up in arms about negative reviews that it's something I shouldn't be admitting — but hey, it's true.

I find them useful, quite frankly, in the following two areas:

In Evaluating Book Blogs

When I'm perusing a book blog that's new to me and deciding whether or not I want to follow, one of the first things I do is look at their review archive, of course. I tend to click on reviews of books that I've read, to see how our perspectives compare without spoiling myself for a book I haven't read.

(Sidenote: book bloggers, if you do not have an easy-to-browse list of your reviews, please consider making one! It is so much more user-friendly than trying to slog through a backlog of blog posts.)

And when I'm skimming these reviews, I'm looking primarily for two things:

1.) Is the review written in an articulate manner, and has the reviewer given the book critical thought? (Spelling and grammar also make a difference.)

I don't want to see something like:

OMG <insert title here> was like THE best book ever!! I wanted to be BFFs with Molly and I <3 Dave so hard!!!!!1111 *swoon* I COULD NOT PUT IT DOWN. This is DEFINATELY a book that everyone will LUV.

A review like that will make me die a little inside, and then I will leave the blog in search of something that does not hurt my brain.

2.) Has the blogger written some negative reviews?

These don't have to be books that I gave a low rating to. In fact, they can even be books that I was impressed with and enjoyed (although, depending on how fiercely I love the book and how well they defend their negative rating, that could potentially impact how likely I am to follow.) What I really just want to see is — are they capable of examining a book and finding flaws in it, and then following that, are they gutsy enough to post it on their blog?

Authors find reading negative reviews about their books tough, but it's important to remember — it's difficult, too, for reviewers to post them, especially if the review is of a book that everyone else seems to have loved.

In Ordering Books 

Besides helping me to evaluate book blogs, negative reviews can also be mightily useful in, of course, influencing my book-ordering decisions. I like to know whether or not I'll be wasting my time on a book. Generally, I tend to steer clear of books that get an overwhelming number of negative reviews on Goodreads, but a few negative reviews does not necessarily mean the book is bad, or even that it won't work for me.

This is where the "thoughtful" part of it comes in. The negative reviews have to be written in such a way that I can figure out whether or not the book's flaws would irritate me. Sometimes what one reviewer hates another loves, or at the very least can put up with. Other times, the flaws are deal breakers. So a negative review that just says...

OMG I HATE THIS BOOK SO MUCH. Why did <insert author name> ever write such a piece of ****? Why is she writing at all? I threw this book so hard against the wall there is now a dent in my wall!!!!!

...is as useless to me as the previous example. I need to know why the book did not work for the reviewer (if possible, without spoilers). Personal attacks on the author are, needless to say, entirely uncalled-for. One should always be able to review a book critically without resorting to nasty, slanderous remarks.

As a reader and blogger, then, negative reviews are really a good deal more helpful to me than positive reviews. Sure, it's nice to read about how much someone loved a book, and yes, glowing reviews can get me excited about it...but I like to go into the reading experience with at least one eye open. Is this book going to be so stereotypical and cliched I will be groaning 10 pages in? Is it riddled with typos? Does it have a protagonist that is "too stupid to live"?

Basically, I want to know if a book will tick my "red flag" checkboxes. If so, it will probably drop down my need-to-have list. And if not, well, then I'll be able to discover its awesome attributes all on my own.

Rants & Raves: Yes, I *Am* Stingy With My 5-Star Ratings

This is a feature that appears sporadically on the blog, whenever I have a bookish issue I need to rant or rave about. Feel free to comment with your thoughts!

*Note: this post was inspired/influenced by any number of discussions other bloggers have had about ratings, and in particular Steph Su Reads's posts here and here.

You may have noticed I don't give 5-star ratings very often. In fact, it is quite a rare occurrence for me. But I know some authors find 3 or 3.5 star reviews disappointing, so I thought I'd explain my thought processes regarding ratings.

To start with: I may not hand out 5 stars like they're going out of style, but I am even less generous with 1-star ratings. In fact, I've never given a book just 1 star on this blog. I think I'd have to be actively appalled/offended/disgusted/horrified by its content in order for that to happen. Usually I can find some redeeming quality in a book, even if overall I didn't enjoy it, and that will bump up the rating.

I guess I see the distribution of book quality kind of like a normal distribution.

You're bound to get a few pretty crummy, poorly written books, on the low end — say, 2 and 2.5 stars in my rating system.

Ones that make me look like this.

You're bound to get a few absolutely fantastic, blew-me-away books on the high end — 4.5 and 5 stars.

Ones that make me look like this.

And then you've got the majority of the books in-between: not bad, but not the best book you've ever read. Those are the 3 and 3.5 and 4-star books.

Bloggers differ in how they approach rating a book. Some people are fine with giving a 5-star rating even if they found several aspects to criticize. Some might only give 5 stars to books that have the "re-readability factor." Personally, for me to give 5 stars to a book, it has to wow me. Maybe it's tackled an issue in a completely original way. Perhaps it's a stand-out example of a story within a certain sub-genre. Maybe there is absolutely nothing I can think of that would improve the novel.

Because let's face it: if I went around giving 5 stars to loads of books, the 5-star rating would quickly lose its impact. It wouldn't be that extra star beyond the (still very good) 4-star rating. And I think I would soon start having trouble distinguishing between what qualifies as a 4-star read vs. a 5-star one.

5 Stars: Outstanding! Buy it!

Not every book stands out enough to be "outstanding".

Interestingly, for me a 5-star rating does not always correspond to a belongs-on-my-favourites-shelf book. Sometimes, but not inevitably. I think there are likely plenty of books I consider my favourites that would get 4 or 4.5 stars, and perhaps even a few books I would "objectively" give 5 stars that aren't among my favourites. So just because I give a book 4 stars doesn't mean I didn't truly enjoy it! It just means there wasn't that "it factor" (for lack of a better term) to elevate it to 5 stars.

I'd also like to point out that books I gave (or would have given) 5 stars when I first started this blog are not necessarily ones I would now give the same rating. I was a lot less particular and critical a reader back in 2010! This doesn't mean I don't still love those books. I just suspect that were I to read them again, examining them critically, I'd probably catch sight of more flaws or areas that could be improved.

The Goose Girl and Crown Duel are a couple that might fall into this category...although it's impossible to tell, since I suspect my view of them will be forever tinted with nostalgic affection!

In conclusion: 5 stars is not my default rating. Authors, your book has to earn it. And because I do read so critically, I keep that 5-star rating in reserve for the ones that strike me as the most exceptional. Kind of like giving out the "class valedictorian" award. So if your book's gotten a 3 or 3.5 or 4-star rating from me, there's no need to worry — you may not be that one kid in the class getting the elusive 100%, but you're still bringing home good grades.

Rants & Raves: Lose the Epilogue, Please.

This is a feature that appears sporadically on the blog, whenever I have a bookish issue I need to rant or rave about. Feel free to comment with your thoughts!

Epilogues are tricky to write well, but so, so easy to butcher. There's a fine line the epilogue walks between giving the reader necessary closure, and going overboard. In the hands of a novice writer, an epilogue can turn from a potentially powerful way to end a story, to something that will make the reader groan as they flip the last page.

I have unfortunately read altogether too many cringe-worthy epilogues, and given that, I'd like to suggest that nine times out of ten, you probably don't need an epilogue at all.

To decide if your epilogue needs to get axed, you might want to consider some of the following questions:

1.) What purpose is your epilogue serving?

Is it:

a) Wish fulfillment for the reader? As in, giving the reader just what you think they want to hear.

If this is the case, I'd recommend taking a step back and considering what feels right for the story and characters, not the reading audience. You don't need to make everything all HEA just because you think that's what readers will want. Chances are, if you do that, it will come off forced and unbelievable and you will actually end up giving readers precisely what they don't want: a bad taste in their mouth as they finish your book.

b) To tie up all the loose ends? Since there just wasn't enough story to do that in...

If you picked this response...you might need to head back to the drawing board and re-think some of your plotlines! An epilogue for this reason should be a flashing neon sign to the writer: MIND THE GAPS, POOR PLOTTING HERE. You shouldn't need to tack on an epilogue to a story in order to explain something critical to the reader. 

c) Because all the best books have epilogues?

Nope. Your book will not necessarily be any less wonderful if it doesn't have an epilogue. In fact, it might very well be better. Don't stick an epilogue in there just because you think it's some sort of requirement.

d) Because you can't bear to leave the characters and that world?

I can totally understand loving your characters and the world you've created, and by all means, go ahead and write down all that you're imagining their future will hold — just don't put it in the final manuscript. There is such a thing as too much information; I find the best epilogues give the reader a glimpse at the future without going into all the details.

 2.) Could the story end without an epilogue? Why or why not?

If the chapter before the epilogue feels like it ends kind of abruptly, and you think having an epilogue will smooth that over...is there a way you could write the previous chapter to remedy this? Is the story really ending in the right place, or do you need another "real" chapter or two?

Consider the scope of your story. Is it a standalone novel or the final book of a trilogy? If it's wrapping up a long series, an epilogue might be more justified, but even then, be cautious: remember the horror of the epilogue in the last Harry Potter novel. Even J.K. Rowling doesn't always get it right.

 3.) Would anything essential really be missing if you were to cut the epilogue?

This is a tricky question. I'd argue that if there is anything really important happening plot-wise in the epilogue, you may be on the wrong track. Epilogues are for winding books up, not introducing major plot points.

However, if your epilogue doesn't convey anything essential...seriously, why bother having it? It should be there for a (good) reason.

Epilogues can be useful in the right circumstances. One that springs to mind for me is the epilogue of Mockingjay. I know it received its fair share of criticism, but much of that book was quite dark and the epilogue balances that by providing some much-needed hope. But if your epilogue really isn't more than icing on the cake, don't be scared to axe it.

Sometimes, less is indeed more — and your book might pack a much more powerful punch if you let the reader create their own epilogue. 

Rants & Raves: You LIED to Me?

This is a feature that appears sporadically on the blog, whenever I have a bookish issue I need to rant or rave about. Feel free to comment with your thoughts!

Suppose I was telling you a story. Suppose I said,

"Once upon a time, there lived a young girl with hair black as coal, skin white as snow, and lips red as apples. She lived with a wicked step-mother who happened to be queen of all the land, and one day the step-mother discovered that her step-daughter had surpassed her in beauty. So the step-mother sent her huntsman to rip out the young girl's heart. But instead the huntsman let her go, and the young girl ran away and stumbled onto a small dwelling where there lived seven vertically-challenged men." 

And then I asked you to tell me what fairy tale this was.

Well, naturally, you'd respond, "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves," right?

And then suppose I went, "Hah! I lied. This isn't about a young girl with hair black as coal who finds herself keeping house for seven small men. No! It's actually about a young girl with hair bright as gold, who finds herself falling asleep in a house belonging to three bears. Fooled you!"

You'd be a little annoyed, wouldn't you? You might say, "That wasn't a fair guessing-game, you gave me all the wrong information! That doesn't count! You cheated."

Yeah, you'd be right. I totally cheated. And that's how I feel every time an author pulls a similar stunt with the narrative of their story.

This is one reason unreliable narrators are so difficult to pull off. Because to the reader, it feels like a deception, perhaps even a betrayal. Readers take what they're told at face value most of the time. I've heard it described kind of like an unwritten contract between the reader and the storyteller: you're going to tell me something fantastical, and I'm going to go along with it. You can't immerse yourself in the story if you're questioning the truth of every word on the page.

So when all of a sudden, the writer informs you that, Whoops! Actually that's not at all what happened, it can feel as though your trust in them has been violated. You think to yourself, "Well if they lied to me before, what's to say they won't do it again? How much of what they're telling me is the truth, and how much is just more lies?"

And really, that's no way to go about reading a story.

I find unreliable narrators particularly odious when they are used in mysteries. Because in mysteries, the whole point is for the reader to try to solve it, to piece together the puzzle before the characters do. And how can you possibly do that if the narrator is withholding information from you (or worse, giving you false information)? Say you're told that the protagonist is going to be interrogating a suspect and you know this will lead to a very important clue...and then the protagonist doesn't mention the outcome of this interrogation. All they'll say is, "I'd learned something that took my breath away. And now I knew where to place the blame." You'd be a little ticked off, wouldn't you?

The way I see it, this is just not playing fair. It's sort of a quick-and-dirty method of stringing the reader along so that when the big reveal happens, they'll be surprised.

Well, OF COURSE they'll be surprised. You didn't give them enough information to have them be anything other than surprised! (And annoyed, frustrated, and just about ready to throw in the towel, but I digress.) I'd say this is a very poor use of the unreliable narrator technique. It's a way to cover up sloppy mystery writing, and frankly, it's a bit of an insult to a reader's intelligence. Good mysteries are difficult to guess because the clues are so clever or well-hidden, not because you've flat-out lied to the reader or conveniently "forgotten" to mention something.

A distinction should certainly be drawn between playing on a reader's assumptions — which is perfectly acceptable, and indeed can be a very crafty way of fooling the reader — and outright lying to them (either by giving false information or by omission). And there are certain circumstances where unreliable narration can be used to good effect. It may be very important in revealing something about a character's personality or mental health (for instance, in All You Never Wanted by Adele Griffin or Holding On To Zoe by George Ella Lyon.)

But using it as a plot device to keep the reader turning the pages? In my opinion, it's a cheap trick.

Rely on your writing talent to create a diverting, suspenseful, twisty read. Don't rely on a technique that will only try the reader's patience. You might just find that they run out of it before they finish the book.

In which case, your "big reveal" will all be for nothing, anyway. Meanwhile, your reader will be reacting like this:



Tell me truthfully, now: is that really what you want?

 

Rants & Raves: Walking the Fine Line of Retellings

This is a feature that appears sporadically on the blog, whenever I have a bookish issue I need to rant or rave about. Feel free to comment with your thoughts!
 
You might be interested to check out this guest post at A Backwards Story by Leah Cypess, which may in part have inspired this post of mine. This guest post at The Book Rat by Marissa Meyer and this blog post by Zoë Marriott also take a look at retelling fairy tales. Also, if you'd like a list of YA retellings, Resugo at Resugo's Bookish Paradise is compiling one here.

I usually have the same reaction whenever I see that someone's written a YA retelling of a classic story. First, I go: "Oh, cool! ______ set in high school/the 1950s/China/the future! That's such a creative idea." This is then quickly followed by: "Oh no! A retelling of ______! There are SO MANY THINGS that could go wrong."

This is because, although I appreciate that writers come up with plenty of fresh new spins on classic stories, at heart I am a purist. There is a reason that the book is a classic, after all. So part of me thinks, "Well, if it was done so well the first time that it's on its billionth printing...why do you feel you need to tell it again?"

But then another part of me argues back, "But classic retellings are a great way to introduce kids to classic literature! Then maybe then they'll actually want to pick up Pride & Prejudice/Jane Eyre/Much Ado About Nothing/what-have-you!"

This last point, however, is only true if the retelling is done WELL. If it's done badly, you may have turned the kid off that classic for a long, long time. Which, let's hope, is never the author's intention. (If the classic sucks in the first place, like Wuthering Heights, that's a whole different story. Apologies to any die-hard Wuthering Heights fans out there, but I am Team Jane Eyre all the way.)

The only way to enjoy Wuthering Heights: through a comic. Check out some other scenes at Hark! A Vagrant.

In one way, discerning the quality of a classic retelling is just like for any other story. Are the characters well-developed? Does the plot move along at a decent pace? Is there emotional and/or physical tension? If relevant, is the world-building strong? If the answer to all of these questions is a big fat NO, then I'd say not only do you not have a well-written retelling on your hands, but you don't even have a well-written story on your hands. Head on back to the drawing board.

But in another way, a retelling is a whole new can of worms. Because you're not creating something from nothing. You're changing a story that's already been told. You're moving it to a new time period, or a new setting, or altering the characters' ages or ethnicities, or maybe you're even giving it a different ending or interpreting a major event in a fresh way. The change you make has to be significant enough that it makes the retelling its own story. Otherwise, there is no point to it. Readers might as well just pick up the classic.

However, it can't be so different that you can no longer claim it is a retelling. If the only similarity between your story and the original is the characters' names, then no, you haven't written a retelling. You've written a totally different book, so change the names, stop pitching it as a retelling, and let it stand on its own two feet.

You don't want your retelling to be like the movie adaptation of Ella Enchanted, do you? No. I didn't think so.

To determine if you've written a retelling that is neither too close nor too far from the original, you might want to ask yourself the following questions:

- If the characters' names were changed to ones not remotely resembling the original names, would  the story still be recognizable? Could a reader point to various events or personalities and go, "This is a retelling of The Wizard of Oz/Alice in Wonderland/Tess of the d'Urbervilles!"
- What is the twist that my retelling has? Is it a change in setting, ending, character, plot point?
- If I could pitch the retelling as "Name of original book meets ______," what would it be?
- If I had a chance to sit down with the original author, and I told him/her all about your retelling, what would their response be? Would they approve? Or would they keel over in shock and horror?

"You added zombies to my novel? I am most SERIOUSLY displeased."

- What are the themes in my story? (Identifying themes is always a good idea anyway.) What are the themes in the original? How similar are they? Are there any that conflict? I'd say retellings generally should be similar thematically to the original, as that's a major part of what ties the two stories together, despite all the modifications you've made.
- In what ways does my story bring something completely new to the table? Why is this element or aspect important enough to warrant retelling the story?
- Once someone has finished reading my story, will there be any point to them reading the classic? (If not, then you've likely followed the original too closely. There should always be good reason for still reading the classic!)

No matter what the story, books aren't written in a vacuum. Authors, even those who aren't trying to write retellings, are still influenced by other authors' works. Sometimes this is unconscious, sometimes this is conscious. Sometimes it's just happy accident that two authors come up with really similar ideas all on their own.

So if you think about it, if you're writing a retelling, you've got an edge. The story you're doing over has already been written, read, and is likely well-known. (In many cases the author's dead, too.) You know your book is going to be influenced by another. And what you get to do is take the best aspects of the classic, and the best part of your own imagination — and build something new on a tried-and-true foundation.

Rants & Raves: Embrace Your Inner Expert!

This is a feature that appears sporadically on the blog, whenever I have a bookish issue I need to rant or rave about. Feel free to comment with your thoughts!

We've all seen how a negative review can sometimes spark an outraged reaction on the part of the author, who retaliates publicly on the blog, catalyzing a whirlwind of response in the comments thread and a good deal of drama.

The author may have a legitimate concern, but all too often it seems that he or she thinks that they know best when it comes to their book. "How could you claim it was scary/boring/unevenly paced/demeaning to women?" they might ask. "That's not the book I wrote!"

It's understandable if the reviewer is cowed by this reaction. Authors' comments can be surprisingly inflammatory and defensive when it comes to their own writing, and the blogger might start thinking, "Did I get this wrong? Am I the only one who thought this? After all, So-and-So did write the book...I guess she should know..."

Why yes, that WAS a Twilight reference! Nicely spotted.

WRONG. Yes, she wrote the book. And yes, if we're talking about factual accuracies here, then the author may well be in the right. It's kind of hard to dispute that a character has bronze-coloured hair or smouldering golden eyes when it says so multiple times in the story.

But when we're talking about what this book made you think and feel, then the author has absolutely no right to criticize your viewpoint. "That's not the book I wrote!" he claims, incensed. Perhaps not, but it is the book YOU read —and that's perfectly fine.

We are all experts somewhere in the process of creating a reading experience. Writers are the experts when it comes to the words they pen. Editors are the experts at manipulating those words. Publishers are the experts at packaging up those words and selling them.

And readers? We're the experts at reading those words.

^^ this is you.

No one knows better what the reading experience was like for you than you do. No one else knows what parts made you laugh, what scenes had you tensed up, what you wish had been written differently, what you couldn't understand at all. No one else knows the characters you loathed and the ones you loved. YOU are the expert on that.

So don't ever let anyone — an author, a blogger, the bookstore clerk, or even yourself — make you feel like less of an expert than you really are. Without readers, after all, there'd be no point to writing a book.

A perfectly legitimate question that this reader has every right to ask.

Rants & Raves: Yes, Self-Published Author, You DO Need An Editor!

This is a feature that appears sporadically on the blog, whenever I have a bookish issue I need to rant or rave about. Feel free to comment with your thoughts!

There are differences of opinion among book bloggers as to the value of self-published novels. Some specifically note in their review policy that they do not accept self-published books for review. Others, like myself, are wary but do not rule them out entirely. And I'm sure there are some bloggers out there who swear by them!

Personally, I'd like to suggest the following: there is nothing inherently bad about self-published novels. Just because the book is not under the label of a traditional publisher does not mean unequivocally that the book is of any lesser quality. It doesn't necessarily mean that the book "wasn't good enough" to be accepted by a standard publishing house. Sure, it may have a rather unsightly cover, but we all know that covers do not translate to the material within. And traditional publishers have been known to come out with some cover eyesores as well.

Like really awkward kissing covers.

Or the re-designed Nightshade series covers. (Seriously, what were they thinking?)

But books that go through traditional publishers come with one decided advantage:

THEY HAVE BEEN EDITED.  

As in, they have gone through several readings by another pair of eyes, looking at the story from a structural perspective, looking at the story line-by-line stylistically, and then finally copyediting for consistency and proofreading for errors.

I don't pretend to have loads of editing expertise, but I've taken enough courses and read enough books to know how essential this is in making a story readable. Authors are too close to their material to objectively see where the plot holes lie or the world-building falls apart. Sure, there are ways to achieve a better distance from your story (if you're interested in the process of self-editing, you might want to check out Susan Bell's The Artful Edit: On the Practice of Editing Yourself), but the best way, in my opinion? Get someone else to look it over.

Of course, it can be argued that some self-published novels do very well, commercially speaking. There seem to be other readers out there who don't mind the grammatical errors and substantive inconsistencies that drive me crazy. Perhaps there are two different breeds of readers: those who can shrug off the errors and whiz through books that read like the first draft of a manuscript...and those who can't.

Honestly, I'm not sure I can really understand the perspective of a self-published author who does not bother to get someone else to edit their work. Do you truly believe your story is the best it can possibly be when you're the only person to have set eyes on it? Do you only care about the money that's coming in, not the quality of your book? I can understand where financially there might be an issue, but if you can't afford an editor, at least try to get writer friends or beta-readers to point out the problems. Because you can be J. K. Rowling and your work will STILL need to be edited.

It's nothing that should be taken personally. Writing is a craft. So is editing. An editor can only do so much with the writing they are given — and a writer can only accomplish so much without an editor. It's a symbiotic relationship that, when it works smoothly, results in something greater than the sum of its parts: a truly worthwhile story.