Book reviews are the cod liver oil of the writing world. Writers need them, and they can do an awful lot of good, but they can also leave an incredibly nasty taste in the mouth.
You can’t switch on the Internet these days without seeing an author giving out about book reviews and how unfair/mean/reprehensible/soul-destroying they are. There is always a writer whinging somewhere about the tears they shed over a nasty review, how personal it was, and why so-and-so was out to destroy them.
Now, for some writers of the thinner skinned variety, this might mean a review which says something unforgiveable such as “I didn’t like this book“. For others, it might take a little more venom. Such as an anonymous review which says “I would have used this book for toilet paper, but my soft under bits would have rejected it too.”
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