As an avid, but general, reader—and by avid, but general, versus professional reader, I mean that in addition to being a part-time writer, holding down a full-time job (teaching reading and writing to teenagers), maintaining a rewarding marriage, keeping a house (albeit rather sporadically), watching favorite television shows and a weekly movie (important shared time with my husband), and showing up at social engagements, I still manage to read anywhere from 3-6 new books a week—it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that my life revolves around books and stories. Reading books, buying books to read, reading reviews about books, and occasionally reviewing books myself all consume significant portions of my leisure time.
Back when most new releases were reviewed by Booklist or Publishers Weekly, I depended on professional critics’ sound advice about which books and authors to read. The rise of indie publishing and the resulting boom in new releases has made it impossible for these institutions to review every book. Fortunately, with the rise of digital books, we’ve also seen an increase in general readers reviewing books on their blogs and leaving personal reviews on Goodreads, Amazon and other book seller sites.
Before I started writing and publishing my own stories, I used to regularly post personal reviews anonymously on Amazon. I found sharing my reading experiences with other readers satisfying and rewarding. I liked supporting authors whose well-crafted books provided me with many hours of especially happy reading. Since the majority of writers make paltry paychecks in exchange for their time and effort, praise in the form of a positive review seemed the appropriate way to thank for them for their exceptional work and guarantee their continued writing. I admit readily that my desire for more good books by those authors played a role in my motivation to write those reviews.
Though I already have many favorite authors (see the sidebar on my website for the list) whose books are auto-buys for me, I constantly search out new authors to read. When shopping for new books or authors, I still read other customer reviews on Amazon. Honest reader reviews still matter, even more so in the age of sock puppet reviewers and their counterparts, those aptly named trolls that seem to be more bent on destroying individual authors’ chances at finding new readers (under some apparently misguided belief they are saving the rest of us from some fate worse than death—um, thanks, but no thanks) than giving a fair review.
I appreciate the steadfast, honest reviewers for the effort and time they spend writing sometimes elegant and insightful commentary on the books I’m considering reading myself. I skim through the longer reviews, before focusing on a few of the 4-star and 2-star reviews. What I’m trying to discover, as a fellow reader and book lover, is why these readers liked or disliked a specific book, not whether they thought it was good or bad. Individual readers’ standards and expectations vary. Since a book’s description usually includes a brief plot summary and some detail about the characters, what I need are details about the reading experience itself, which only someone who has read the book can provide.
Unfortunately, I’ve noticed a rise in unhelpful reviews. Take this 1-star review on a historical romance book I was considering buying on Amazon yesterday:
“This story was ok but it wasn’t very interesting. I wish the author had made this story more interesting. I’m not sure I want to read any more of this author’s books.”
The book also had this equally unhelpful 5-star review:
“Really surprised at how good it was. Will definitely read more by this author. Loved the characters and the stories throughout.”
Neither of these reviews tells me why these readers liked or disliked the book. The vague language reveals next to nothing about the readers’ actual reading experiences. At least, not the kind of information that would help me decide whether to buy the book. The 5-star review was even confusing in regards to whether the book was one story or a collection of stories. What did I want to read in the reviews?
How about…what made the book a good or bad read for the person leaving the review? Was it the development or pacing of the story? Were the characters dull or charismatic? Did the ending work? Were there any interesting plot twists? While a reader might leave a brief review as a personal record for her own future reference, these individuals have chosen to post their critiques publicly, apparently for the consumption of other readers. It would be courteous to potential readers, not to mention the author, if they took the time to tell other shoppers exactly why they did or did not recommend the book. (Simply starring a book on Goodreads is understandable because it is primarily a system designed for recording one’s reading experiences—and sharing with readers one knows personally—rather than being a recommendation platform for millions of shoppers).
Readers prefer different things. Writing two-line reviews telling shoppers on a site like Amazon or Barnes & Noble that a book was brilliant or that it sucked ultimately means nothing to us, unless we know you personally. Some readers appreciate all romance subgenres as long as the main plot is a love story, while others are happy with mixed genres in which the romance takes a back seat to a mystery or to larger historical events. Some readers insist on chaste romances while others crave erotic stories. Reviews like those quoted above simply don’t help prospective readers determine whether the book reviewed will suit their personal preferences.
So, what specific helpful information can the individual reviewer provide to potential readers? After all, if a reader takes the time to go back to a website, log in and type the review, she might as well make it useful to other readers.
Generally, readers want to know quality details about the writer’s style (including language and description), the plot, and, especially in romance, the characters, as they are experienced by a variety of readers.
The Writer’s Style
When I read a romance—my reading drug genre of choice—I want the work to be well-written. That translates to it being well-edited with a variety of words and sentence types. I enjoy meaningful descriptive detail but I’ve hated books others have loved simply because the writer includes unnecessary details like the brand of every single clothing item worn by the characters. For me, details must be essential plot elements or included to set up a specific tone. If superfluous, they bog down the story. Others may not care because stories with excessive brand details don’t disrupt the reading experience for them. How much detail is too much detail is a personal reading preference, not necessarily commentary on good or bad writing.
Many readers are offended by the use of profanity. If a writer uses the F-bomb, it’s an aspect of her style. Personally, I don’t notice foul language, unless it’s excessive. Other readers find their reading experience ruined every time a swear word appears. In addition to profanity, a writer’s dependency on and repetition of a limited vocabulary list can be distracting for readers. If the writer repeatedly tediously describes the hero as hunky, maybe mention it to prospective readers. Some of them will be forever grateful.
Historical romance readers vary widely in their tolerances for factual inaccuracies. If the story includes a late afternoon wedding during a time period when weddings rigidly took place in the morning, a reader’s suspension of disbelief might collapse. Some can’t read books with any anachronistic language, while others wouldn’t notice if 19th century characters used obvious 21st century words like “selfie” and “truthiness.” The writing isn’t inevitably good or bad. The details and language choices of the story are part of the writer’s style. Some writers foreground the history, others foreground the love story. In the end, some readers care about authenticity, some don’t. Reviewers don’t need to universally grade these issues. They simply need to report which specific characteristics of language improved or diminished their personal reading experience.
Probably, reporting on the quality of the editing, in the age of indie-publishing, is a must though. Many new authors simply haven’t mastered basic grammar or storytelling. Frankly, most readers paying hard-earned money for a book don’t want to struggle through a text, unraveling the meaning of convoluted sentences or deciphering poor word choices. They don’t want to read ahead thinking they are in one character’s head, only to discover the writer switched point-of-view midsentence three pages back. A reviewer can enjoy a story, but still acknowledge poor editing, or conversely praise good craftsmanship while despising the selfish, unpalatable nature of the characters.
The Plot
Romance plots are loaded with common tropes: insta-love, second-chance love, trapped together love and forbidden love, just to name a few. Romance readers especially seem to each have plots they can’t resist. These stories speak to us individually on a level that might transcend other concerns. Because love’s path is both unique and archetypal, it’s natural that each reader is drawn to specific plots and repelled by others. I’m perfectly content with an insta-love story if the writer includes enough conflict between the characters on their journey to the HEA. Since I believe that chemistry is an essential part of lasting love, I accept the premise that lust frequently evolves into love. Other readers simply can’t buy into the concept of love-at-first sight.
On the other hand, I avoid second-chance stories unless I love an author’s other books. If a couple can’t overcome the odds to make a relationship work the first time, they should just move on. Apparently, I don’t have a nostalgic bone in my body, so stories that depend on the idea that “this time” things will end differently just doesn’t fit into my world view. It isn’t an issue of one story being superior to another. Telling me a second chance story is good or bad is irrelevant. Tell me specifically why you loved it over other second chance stories, and I might give it a try.
How well a writer plots out the narrative makes for helpful commentary. Does the storyline ring tried and true or telegraphed and clichéd from page one? Is the conflict and tension carefully paced or does it drag out? Are there delight-inducing twists or unrealistic turns? While the blurb on the book’s cover or in the bookseller’s description may hint at the plot, it doesn’t tell readers how well the story flows or develops. Only individuals who have read the book can tell us that they stayed up all night reading compulsively, or that it took a self-enforced six weeks of torturous reading to finish the book, or that it was a DNF.
In romance, the explicitness of sex scenes as well as the level of violence can be useful details to include in a review. For example, I prefer sex scenes that are integral to the development of the relationship, but I skim scenes that seem excessive or gratuitous, and while I will read romances without sex scenes, I usually end up wishing they’d had at least one so I could experience that moment of physical intimacy between the hero and heroine. Some readers read romance primarily for the sex scenes. At the other end of the spectrum, a reader might prefer sex to be off-page or to occur only after the couple has married. When I read a review complaining about the “dirty” sex scenes, frankly, I’m intrigued, rather than turned off. Aspects of a novel that didn’t work for that reader, might be exactly what works for me.
I’ve read my share of BDSM books. I can’t make it through stories in which the masochism is hardcore. The scene in 50 Shades when the hero beats the heroine with the belt and she was not enjoying it–in fact it crossed the line into actual, unacceptable abuse for me–wrecked my reading enjoyment completely. But in some of Cherise Sinclair’s books, I have learned to appreciated the fine line between pain and pleasure as delivered by her heroes in those hot sex scenes. General reviewers on Amazon that clarify the level of violence in the books they reviewed have helped me avoid buying some books I’d ultimately have hated on many occasions.
The Characters
Like so many other readers, I despise a heroine who is TSTL. Romance readers want to see characters develop over the course of the story, moving from unsure or wrong about relationships to knowing how to love someone, but if it takes too long for the character to get a clue, we can become annoyed.
Romances about women discovering their own power and value are often rewarding reads. I know some readers who compulsively consume stories in which the hero is essential at helping the heroine overcome her insecurities. Unfortunately, the message that “it takes a man to make a woman feel happy and whole” grates on my nerves. Irrationally, I admit to being quite happy reading stories in which the reverse is true, in which the heroine helps the hero develop confidence on some emotional level. Crazy, I know, but true.
Insecurity about one’s body is such a universal experience for women, that I can accept female characters initially having this insecurity, and it appears frequently in the contemporary novels I read and enjoy; that insecurity just can’t dominate the heroine’s thoughts all through the book. Sometimes this problem results from a writer’s style choices. Give me a story about a curvy heroine whose voluptuous body drives the attractive hero mad with lust and I’m on-aboard. Give me a story about an overweight, cellulite-riddled, insecure heroine whose body drives a six-foot tall, six-pack abs, blue-eyed, dark-haired, aristocratic-nosed hero crazy with lust, and I’ve disembarked and gotten on another train. In the real world where I live, these matches between the extraordinarily beautiful and the dumpy plain don’t happen.
Romance readers have preferences regarding a variety of heroes too, naturally. While the alpha male is a favorite at the moment, many readers have had their fill of over-bearing men or have always preferred stories about the nice guy next door. Most men in the world aren’t A-type alphas (and most women are not stunning, beautiful model types). Romances about regular people reinforce the idea that love happens even to those who don’t meet society’s idea of physical perfection. How many billionaire-falls-for-plain-jane stories can still qualify as a 5-star read? Not too many for me, but if it’s your crack-equivalent archetype story, the number might be unlimited.
In the end, unless a reviewer has established herself as a professional, experienced, highly respected book critic, the most helpful feedback she can provide to other readers is an honest recounting of her personal reading experience in which she highlights the specific qualities of a book that either worked or failed for her. Posting a review that labels a book as good or bad without evidence demonstrating what makes it so is, at its core, a valueless enterprise for most potential readers.