Hi guys! I am going to rant about something that is bit of an Achilles heel for me (on top of the writing ones I’d mentioned several blogs ago btw) and as much as I should be ashamed of it…I am not.
I HATE writing book reviews. Loathe…detest… abhor…despise…I can add more synonyms but I think you get the drift. Before I get into why and how this manifested, I apologize to those who consider themselves Book Reviewers…I am grateful for you, love you, want to hug you…but cannot make myself do what you do.
…Because if I have to be critical of what I’m reading…I’m going to end up hating it. I don’t read books to be critical. I read books to enjoy, immerse, find pleasure in (not that way you sickos xD). I don’t pay attention to minutia while I am reading. I consider myself an “experiencer” of books. I read wholly immersed, my brain awash with visions of scenes, character, emotions, actions…I can almost taste, feel, hear and see it as I read it. I laugh out loud, I cry, I yell and fling the book away when a character pisses me off, then pick it back up and apologize to it. I become one with books that has earned me many a sideways glance while reading in public places. I’m pretty sure I’m banned from my local Starbucks after cursing out loud at a particularly cruel villain in a book.
…so if I had to analyze, critique, and pick apart something that I want to hug…then it’s going to lose its magic for me. So I simply don’t. I won’t review books—unless—asked specifically by the author themselves. That is my only caveat.
…Does that mean that typos, plot holes, and cringe worthy grammar escape my eye? No. I note it, sometimes reflect on how it could be corrected, and move on. Does it interrupt my experiences? Sometimes. Do I forgive and move on, yes.