on bad reviews
Dec. 4th, 2009 01:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coraaOne of the things that I have learned -- something I know that several of you already know -- is that sometimes a bad review can serve as more of a recommendation than a good review.
Bad reviews of books are often more entertaining to read, of course. Although the food porn elements of Ratatouille were why I went to see it, and a big part of why I loved it, my favorite line was one of the nasty critic, Anton Ego, who said toward the end, "We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read." It's true. I just finished reading Roger Ebert's Your Movie Sucks, and was entertained from start to finish, because watching him skewer bad movies with wit and grace is a delight. But often, too, a negative review will tell you more about a book than a positive one -- and sometimes that means that, quite against the intention of the negative reviewer, the negative review makes me want to read the book.
I've taken to reading the one-star reviews of books I'm considering first. Not because I'm an inherently negative person, I don't think, but because they often cut to the heart of the matter more quickly than the good or mediocre reviews. Not always in line with the reviewer's intention, either.
Of course, sometimes a negative review serves its intended purpose. I've been spared several dreadful books because I read reviews that noted that the author had a one-dimensional and misogynistic view of women and that showed in his female characters. I've been spared other dreadful books for more prosaic but still important reasons: if too many people think the characters are wooden and the prose clunks like a beat-up jalopy, I can probably give it a pass. True, negative reviews aren't always accurate, but if more than one or two people say the same thing, and it's something that's important to me... well, my time is finite.
But sometimes a bad review makes me hit "Order Now with One Click" faster than a good review ever could.
For instance. A while ago, I was considering buying a book, and I took a look at the one-star reviews. One of them ran along the lines of, "This book contains a homosexual relationship, and it's portrayed as positive and healthy! The characters even kiss! HOW PERVERSE!" That was enough to make me order the book, as it happens. (I think it was probably something by Lynn Flewelling, actually.)
Another example: often, middle-grade and YA books will have horrified parent reviews that say something like, "This book contains one swear word and mentions sex in a neutral and non-explicit way! PASS THE SMELLING SALTS." For one thing, to be honest with you, I find this hilarious, and it adds a moment of extra amusement to my book purchasing process, which is not a bad thing. But for another thing... well, I don't think that a swear word and a mention of sex makes a book a good book, but if that's the worst you can say about the book, well.
Most recently, after I read Harriet the Spy and The Long Secret, and made a sad face at discovering that Sport was out of print, I went poking around and found Nobody's Family Is Going To Change, also by Fitzhugh. I knew I'd read it, but I couldn't remember much about it -- I only read it once, and it was a long time ago. So I read the blurb and then I read the one-star review, which was an angry screed about how terrible this book was for portraying a father figure as less than perfect, for approving of children having aspirations that their parents didn't like, for approving of children having initiative and agency. It ended with a bluntly didactic note to children that they should ignore this book and realize that their parents know best and always, always have the best in mind for them.
It made me remember the book vividly, let me tell you, and once I remembered it I ordered it. Although I did wish there was some way that I could order a copy and send it to Mr./Ms. Your Parents Always Know Best And You Must Obey Them Unquestioningly's kid, if they have a kid.
Incidentally, this is part of why, if I don't like a book, I will say so in the review, and I will say why. Because if I make up platitudes about a book I don't like -- or don't review it at all -- then nobody gets any benefit; it's pap. But if I say, "This was a Middle-Aged, Middle-Class, Modern White Person With Ennui Contemplating An Affair book, and I am bored absolutely beyond tears by those," well, some people love those books. Some people eat them up, and go back for more. And that's fine; I don't expect everyone to share my tastes. And people who do love that stuff now know that such-and-such book is that type of book, and they can go order it, and good for them.
(There are other reasons I review the way I do, but I'll save those for another post.)
Bad reviews of books are often more entertaining to read, of course. Although the food porn elements of Ratatouille were why I went to see it, and a big part of why I loved it, my favorite line was one of the nasty critic, Anton Ego, who said toward the end, "We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read." It's true. I just finished reading Roger Ebert's Your Movie Sucks, and was entertained from start to finish, because watching him skewer bad movies with wit and grace is a delight. But often, too, a negative review will tell you more about a book than a positive one -- and sometimes that means that, quite against the intention of the negative reviewer, the negative review makes me want to read the book.
I've taken to reading the one-star reviews of books I'm considering first. Not because I'm an inherently negative person, I don't think, but because they often cut to the heart of the matter more quickly than the good or mediocre reviews. Not always in line with the reviewer's intention, either.
Of course, sometimes a negative review serves its intended purpose. I've been spared several dreadful books because I read reviews that noted that the author had a one-dimensional and misogynistic view of women and that showed in his female characters. I've been spared other dreadful books for more prosaic but still important reasons: if too many people think the characters are wooden and the prose clunks like a beat-up jalopy, I can probably give it a pass. True, negative reviews aren't always accurate, but if more than one or two people say the same thing, and it's something that's important to me... well, my time is finite.
But sometimes a bad review makes me hit "Order Now with One Click" faster than a good review ever could.
For instance. A while ago, I was considering buying a book, and I took a look at the one-star reviews. One of them ran along the lines of, "This book contains a homosexual relationship, and it's portrayed as positive and healthy! The characters even kiss! HOW PERVERSE!" That was enough to make me order the book, as it happens. (I think it was probably something by Lynn Flewelling, actually.)
Another example: often, middle-grade and YA books will have horrified parent reviews that say something like, "This book contains one swear word and mentions sex in a neutral and non-explicit way! PASS THE SMELLING SALTS." For one thing, to be honest with you, I find this hilarious, and it adds a moment of extra amusement to my book purchasing process, which is not a bad thing. But for another thing... well, I don't think that a swear word and a mention of sex makes a book a good book, but if that's the worst you can say about the book, well.
Most recently, after I read Harriet the Spy and The Long Secret, and made a sad face at discovering that Sport was out of print, I went poking around and found Nobody's Family Is Going To Change, also by Fitzhugh. I knew I'd read it, but I couldn't remember much about it -- I only read it once, and it was a long time ago. So I read the blurb and then I read the one-star review, which was an angry screed about how terrible this book was for portraying a father figure as less than perfect, for approving of children having aspirations that their parents didn't like, for approving of children having initiative and agency. It ended with a bluntly didactic note to children that they should ignore this book and realize that their parents know best and always, always have the best in mind for them.
It made me remember the book vividly, let me tell you, and once I remembered it I ordered it. Although I did wish there was some way that I could order a copy and send it to Mr./Ms. Your Parents Always Know Best And You Must Obey Them Unquestioningly's kid, if they have a kid.
Incidentally, this is part of why, if I don't like a book, I will say so in the review, and I will say why. Because if I make up platitudes about a book I don't like -- or don't review it at all -- then nobody gets any benefit; it's pap. But if I say, "This was a Middle-Aged, Middle-Class, Modern White Person With Ennui Contemplating An Affair book, and I am bored absolutely beyond tears by those," well, some people love those books. Some people eat them up, and go back for more. And that's fine; I don't expect everyone to share my tastes. And people who do love that stuff now know that such-and-such book is that type of book, and they can go order it, and good for them.
(There are other reasons I review the way I do, but I'll save those for another post.)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 11:23 pm (UTC)