Why I don't review books anymore

I fell in love with reading in fourth grade and ever since, I haven't really stopped. I read almost every day. It's rare for me to go more than two days without picking up a book.

My favorite past time became my super power. The more books I got my hands on, the faster I read. Faster and faster and faster, until one day in sixth grade, Shawn, a kid I thought was my friend, accused me of pretending to read. 

"What?" I asked him, my expression bemused.  It was recess and the sun was out. No one was near the baseball field, and I was sitting on a patch of grass right near third base, the perfect place to read without being disturbed.  

"You're not really reading all those books. No one can read that fast," he stated matter-of-factly. 

At the time, I hadn't wanted to argue with him. The recess bell was going to ring soon and I had to finish the chapter before going back inside. I shrugged, unsure of why he was angry. "Okay, if you say so." Then I went back to reading my book. 

He stomped away and it took me almost ten years to figure out that he was jealous.

Something similar happened recently that stopped me from reviewing books online. 

Honestly, I didn't even realizing what I was doing was reviewing. I would read a book and post a pic on FB with a small blurb about my impressions of the story. I've been doing it for years. It was more to share my excitement with my friends really. There's just something about stumbling on a good book and wanting to shout it to the rooftops. You want everyone to feel what you felt. 

Now most of the books I talk about were good. I'm pretty picky about selecting books with strong recommendations. But from time to time, I'd have a bad string of bad luck book duds. 

I was having a week where that was happening. It was like book after book kept falling short. And that's bad because if you know about the high you can get from reading good book, it's frustrating, sorta like working hard for a mind orgasm that just slips away.

Anyways, I wrote about my disappointment on my FB feed. 

The next day, I had an acquaintance send me the following to me:

Hi: just wanted to give you something to think about.

If you can't say something nice about someone's writing don't say anything at all--unless you are being paid for your opinion.

Making negative comments like you have against published authors could come back to bite you when you are published.

Food for thought. 

I was horrified. Sick with it. 

So, I started to go through my feed to begin deleting all my past book review comments. 

But as I was deleting, I read some. 

"The protagonist was weak. Really should have had a clearer motivation to do what she did." 

"Ugh. It was so promising but the story went off the rails after the bedroom scene. All the sexual tension just disappeared."

"I don't care if he looks good, this hero was a jerk. I can't believe half of the things he said to her."

Hold the phone.

These comments weren't mean. Not like some reviews on Amazon and Goodreads, and I've read some that were brutal, attacking the author themselves. Even I've winced at how cutting and destructive those comments could be, asking out loud, "Don't they realize these are actual people reading these?" 

But this was not that. At least, I didn't think so. 

It was an opinion on their work. On my FB page. Set on Friends only privacy setting. Was I such menace for expressing my thoughts on social media with such a small audience? I wasn't out in Amazon or Goodreads blasting them and ruining their real bottom line: money. They'd already gotten my money. And my precious time. In return, shouldn't I get to have an opinion about their work?

Yes, my comments were negative, but they weren't directed at the published authors themselves. I'm very much a "do no harm" kinda person. I mean, you won't like everybody and that's okay, but the least you can do is not harm them. That's always been my philosophy through life: Be kind and move on.

My objective wasn't to demean or shame. I wasn't destroying people, spewing vitriol at the person who dared to try and accomplish the arduous task of writing a book.

It takes guts and vulnerability to let out your book into the public. The man in the arena is someone who needs to be applauded. I get that. But authors are not ordained gods. Readers are not slaves. I took the time and money to read through their book. Wasn't I allowed my opinion?

I was trying to learn what NOT to do in the pursuit of excellence. Who wants to be a writer with a weak protagonist, a sagging Act 2, and an unsatisfying ending of a story?  No, my critique was directed solely at the work I read. And wasn't that a distinction that needed to be made?

Why was this not allowed? Because I was an author myself? Does that take away my right to comment on anything I read? Fear of retaliation in the future?

Is that really the kind of system I should bow down to? 

Were my opinions worthless because I wasn't being paid?  Was money necessary for my voice to count?

Who were these fragile authors who would be miffed at what one woman thought of their work? Were they obsessively checking reviews on their screens so they could feel validated? Were their egos so hungry to be fed? Were they writing down names, waiting for the day they could get their revenge when I was ready to show my work?

And so meanwhile, while I'm still struggling to break through, I should shut up? Forever?

I don't know these answers. I thought I did but it's been a year since this happened, and I haven't really reviewed anything. Oh, I'll post a pic of the book's front cover, but that's about it.

I guess that's an answer of sorts. 

I get annoyed thinking about it from time to time. I don't like anything that stiffles my voice. But maybe it is better to shut up and not say anything.

I don't know. I think I'd rather just go back to reading.