I’m going to be very careful here not to slam those who do review books.  I admire many of them.  They read constantly and have a wide enough repertoire to give them a grand perspective on books.

But the contents of a book review is about more than reading.  It’s about the reviewer’s personal history and how it relates to the story.  It’s about her mood at the time of the reading.  If the book review is an assignment she didn’t want, her review reflects it.  Likewise, if the author of the book-to-be-reviewed is a good friend.  And if the book reviewer is a writer herself and is reviewing the competition?  Oh boy.  There’s an invitation for partisanship.

I’m guilty of all of the above.  Whether I like a book or not has to do with my own personal history, my mood at the time of the reading, and yes, whether or not the author is a competitor or a friend.

This is reality.  I’m trying to be honest here.

Which is why I call what I do “recommendations” rather than “reviews.”  I’m not an expert in literature; I don’t put myself up to be the judge of what’s good and what isn’t.  I simply know what I like.  And I can pass on those titles to you.  As for disclosure, didn’t I tell you right off the bat, in recommending Low Pressure last week, that Sandra Brown is a friend?

In the last few months I’ve read some books that I don’t like, some that I truly hate.  And I’ve blogged about them.  Only you’ll never read those blogs, because I won’t ever post them.  I don’t want to trash other writers any more than I want them to trash me back.

So.  If you want negative reviews, you’ll have to look elsewhere.  I’m taking the high road, and feeling better for it.