Ratings and Reviews
We can no longer just experience things: we have to share that experience. More than that, we have to rate and review that experience, that purchase, that service. Browsing online for a new computer? Give feedback on how easy it was to find on the website. Bought a new computer? Rate it. Called customer service because the new computer won’t work? Make sure you rate that poor rep five stars for doing a thankless job. I’m aware that I sound old, but I miss the days when you could visit the dentist without having to fill in a detailed questionnaire about the whole experience.
You can tell I don’t like rating things. Even though I do look at the reviews of hotels and attractions when I travel, experience has shown that those reviews often mean bugger all. My favourites (by which I mean those I am most judgemental of) are hotel reviews that complain about towels not being changed every day, and TVs with no English channels. Look, I could rant and rave about the privilege of even being able to travel, but I’ll spare you the pain. If I have a particularly good experience somewhere, I will leave a positive review, especially if it’s a small business (here’s an example!). Unfortunately we now live in a world where small businesses need feedback just so they can beat the various algorithms they’re fighting against, and I want to help them out if I can.
But what about books?
Rating what you read
Surprise, surprise, I don’t like rating books. I don’t use Goodreads, and I never rate or review books I buy online. My reasoning is simple: how can you possibly judge one book against another? Different genres, different styles, and not to mention different times of life. The books I consider fantastic now are not necessarily the books I loved as a twenty-year-old. When I read, I bring my lifetime with me, and my own personal view of the world. You simply can’t condense that down into five stars. I also strongly believe in challenging yourself when it comes to reading, and not basing your book purchases purely on what others have said.
I’m not naïve: of course I do understand that rating books is a way for people to express their opinions in a simple and effective manner. I get that it works for some people. I do enjoy giving and receiving book opinions, just not in a star-related way. I re-joined Instagram earlier this year in order to connect with other writers and readers and to see what they are thinking about the books they read. My favourite posts are by those who just talk about the books they like and dislike, without any thought to how many people will engage with the post, or whether or not they’re posting an ‘unpopular’ opinion. But there’s definitely pressure in the Bookstagram world to be positive, and to post in quick, punchy, snappy ways. In this context is makes sense to give a book a star rating. But I think we lose something in these brief interactions. Basically, we lose depth. And depth in writing doesn’t fit in with the world of TikTok and Instagram.
The good ol’ days. Image by balesphotography on Unsplash
Newspapers and the Good Ol’ Days
Growing up, reading the newspaper (specifically, The Age) was a big part of my life and my development as a writer and reader. I’d sit at the kitchen table and read the paper over breakfast, getting worked up about injustices and complaining about the world to my dad. When I left home, I’d still buy the paper, usually on Saturdays, when it was bursting with writing. I can see myself walking to the milk bar and gathering up the various sections of the Saturday Age, then hauling them home and spending the day reading. It is genuinely one of the things I miss the most in our digital world.
Newspapers used to have arts sections that were full of reviews. Back then, when you published a book, if you got a review in the paper it was a big deal. In many ways the so-called democratisation of the internet does mean that there is more space for the promotion of books that would have once been ignored by the ‘gatekeepers’ of publishing. In all aspects of art, whether it was books, film, dance, stage, whatever, artists were often at the mercy of a particular reviewer. Careers could be made or broken based on the whims of one person.
I don’t want to go back to that world. I think breaking down these walls and removing the gatekeepers from many aspects of the art world is generally a positive thing. That said, I think we’ve lost something at the same time. We’ve lost the skills that those reviewers had: the ability to analyse an artwork, to write and talk about it in an erudite way.
Supporting longform reviews
Earlier this year I subscribed to both Griffith Review and Australian Book Review. I did this because I believe that, as a writer, you ought to support the organisations that support you, if you have the means to do so. I chose these publications specifically because I love reviews. I love longform writing in general, and the quality of the writing in these publications is exceptional. You’d think that because I have a degree in literature I’d be able to write about books, but it’s not the case. Yes, I can write an academic essay with my eyes shut and standing on my head, but I can’t write about a book in the way that real, experienced, knowledgeable reviewers can.
Good reading. Image by Tess Corbel.
I get so much pleasure from reading people’s thoughts about art. That’s what it really comes down to. And the fact of the matter is that when those people know their field, and can examine an artwork in depth, then it’s a beautiful thing. I don’t want to lose that, and I hope that our world will always have space for it, even if the age of print is well and truly over. I encourage others to read in depth about art, too. It’s worth it. Take it from old crankypants here. And make sure you give me five stars.
