Are you a writer?
If you are, you probably have a sensitive soul.
And sooner or later, you’ll come across a Goodreads review.
Some of them are good, though most of them are bad. Not just negative, but bad. That’s true in our case, anyway. It’s best to stay away from Goodreads until you’ve published three or five, or more books. At that point, the nasty comments don’t sting so much, and you may even feel like laughing.
But let’s get down to what it means to get a bad review on Goodreads.
Evidently, it means very little, as people continue to read your books for a million other reasons – curiosity about the story, the setting, or the characters. The fact that some Goodreads reporter feels the need to pour vitriol on the poor writer probably amounts to little more than this: they bought (or worse, they borrowed) your book, they didn’t like it, and they resent the waste of their time and/or money.
I often feel that way myself after finishing, or not finishing, a novel I have bought. But I don’t rush off to Goodreads with my unhappiness or lack of satisfaction. A crueller punishment is to set the book aside and forget about it. Sometimes, I even give the author a second chance. He or she may have written other books which are worth reading.
So who are the nasty reviewers on Goodreads?
I can only speak for myself, of course, and I only make this point because I found it instructive. This morning, while looking for something else, I came across a Goodreads reference to our first novel, Critique of Criminal Reason, which was published ten years ago in 2006. I have been a signed-up member of Goodreads for years, but I never post on the site, and simply cancel all the notifications which regularly drop into my mailbox. Critique of Criminal Reason has now amassed 97 reviews and 674 views...
Here’s the comment I read:
I have become increasingly skeptical towards books that have famous people from the past as characters, but I thought I could give this one a chance: what a waste of money...
Fair enough, I say. If you are only interested in ‘famous people from the past,’ then this novel may not have been what you were looking for. The ‘famous person’ who appeared in our first historical crime novel was the Prussian philosopher, Immanuel Kant. Maybe the reader wasn’t prepared for a Prussian philosopher. In any case, Kant dies in the first book of a series of four, and while there are fleeting references to Kant in the three later novels, he is not a major character.
Thanks for ‘giving us a chance...’
However, one chance was not enough, it seems. One of the things I like about Goodreads is that it encourages people to read. One of the things I dislike about the website is that it encourages people to judge what they have read (and, perhaps, not understood) and to make sweeping statements based on their own prejudices, i.e., ‘I have become increasingly skeptical (sic)...’ Well, I mean to say, why punish me because you have lost faith in something?
The fatal ‘One Star...’
To be honest, if I hate a book, I give it no stars. That is, I don’t even mention to my real friends that I have read it. And what are the five stars for, in any case? One for the prose, another for the story, a third for the characters, another one for snappy dialogue, and number five to say, hey, wow, I really loved that one?
The fact that an editor published the book suggests that the writing is passable, that the story is engaging, the characters are intriguing, and that, overall, the publisher was happy to lay out his hard-earned cash and invest in the novel.
If someone slags your novel, don’t get worked up about it.
The truth is, they are jealous that your publisher gave you five stars.
‘What a waste of money...’
This comment makes me chuckle. All the way to the bank, as Liberace is reputed to have said. More humbly, I wonder what the Goodreads reader would have wasted his money on, if he hadn’t wasted it on me.
This blog was prompted by a question from someone I hadn’t seen in many years: are you still writing?
The answer, of course, is yes.
I mean to say, once you become a full-time writer there’s no going back.
But there is a deeper question lurking there. What my old pal really meant was this: are you still being published?
It set me thinking about where I am, and where I want to be, and, as a result, I decided to extol the joys of being a mid-list author. Extol means to praise, as everyone knows, but I also like the idea that it might mean to be free of tolls.
A mid-list writer is a bit like one of those nags that make up a horse race. It always manages to cross the finishing-line, but it never quite makes it into the first three. The mid-list writer’s name always appears on a publisher’s list, but never at the top...
So, here are the joys:
Do you want to be a bestselling author? (Answer yes/no within 10 seconds)
Would you prefer to be a mid-list author? (Take your time, you can answer the question tomorrow, or maybe not at all).
Let me tell you a story that didn’t happen.
I repeat: this story did not happen.
Maybe it’s all for the best that it didn’t happen, but it could have happened...
Perugia has a population of 150, 000 people.
It has two universities, one of which caters specifically for foreigners.
Ten years ago, there were 35,000 students in Perugia, though the number has been falling steadily to the present 20,000 estimate.
It’s a pleasant town with a lively cultural scene. There’s plenty to do, lots of trendy places to meet. Everywhere you hear foreign voices, which strikes a strange note in a region like Umbria which is so essentially Italian. The main drag, Corso Vannucci, is crowded with young people. They sit in the bars and cafes, and on the stone steps of the cathedral, or Palazzo dei Priori which houses a fine collection of Umbrian and Renaissance art, keeping an eye on the talent. Perugia makes you think of every university town you’ve ever been to – students study some, and socialize some more. Life is one long party, and sometimes they drink. Or get high. Getting high is higher on the agenda these days, but having a drink or three helps.
Let’s just say there are a lot of pushers in Perugia.
And where there are pushers, there are customers.
So, one day – and this is a story that really did happen – an Italian boy, an American girl, an adopted boy who came originally from the Ivory Coast, and an English girl were thrown together in Perugia by the forces of fate, and the outcome was that the English girl was raped and murdered. The other three students were imprisoned and tried, and, after ‘great trials and tribulations,’ two of them were eventually found not guilty and they were released.
The boy from the Ivory Coast, Rudy Guede, remained in prison because he confessed to being present (and DNA evidence tied him to the scene of the crime). He was high that night, he said, his memory of events was uncertain. He may have been advised to confess by his lawyers. By doing so, he was given a shortened sentence. Last month, nine years into his sixteen-year sentence, Rudy was granted a 36-hour parole from prison, where his behaviour has been described as exemplary. On the 26th June, he walked out of prison, intending to buy, as I read this morning, a ‘chessboard, a bottle of perfume and a pomegranate’ before he goes back to serve the remainder of his sentence.
Rudy’s statement was odd – a pomegranate?
His sentence was even odder. He was found guilty of murder and sexual violence in ‘the company of others.’ Who the ‘others’ may be has never been determined, but that’s the Italian justice system. Rudy is serving time for a crime committed in his presence by others who have never been identified...
By a strange coincidence, the other boy in the case, the Italian who was declared innocent after five trials (having been found guilty the first time), was spotted in the centre of Perugia the other day. He was in Corso Vannucci, mingling with the students, Italian and foreign, in the company of The Pills, a group of comedians who run a Facebook page. The Pills wanted to take a ‘selfie’ with Raffaele Sollecito in the town where he was convicted, and then absolved, of the murder of an English girl named Meredith Kercher.
I imagined Rudy Guede walking out of jail to buy that pomegranate, and meeting Raffaele Sollecito...
What would have happened in this story that didn’t happen?
In dreams, the pomegranate symbolizes a rift between rationality and imprudent behaviour.
“Older voters got their way,” she complains after the Brexit vote. Then she quotes a naïve comment from the Financial Times website: “The younger generation has lost the right to live and work in 27 countries. We will never know the full extent of lost opportunities, friendships, marriages and experiences we will be denied. Freedom of movement was taken away (?) by our parents, uncles and grandparents in a parting blow to a generation that was already drowning in the debts of its predecessors.”
This is sentimental claptrap.
There is no generational conspiracy to deprive the young of anything.
Indeed, rather than belittling the democratic lessons that might be learnt from the results of the Brexit referendum, Ms. Cosslett, siding with the deluded “us,” as she identifies herself and others, preaches a bland moral: take no notice, kids, you were right.
The truth is that the older generation have been contributing to European funding for 40 years. EC money comes out of the taxpayers’ pocket. The older generation has been paying for the Erasmus programmes, the foreign research and study exchange programmes, the costs of university tuition, the travel, lodging and accommodation expenses. That money could have been spent on the poor, the underprivileged, the unemployed. Instead, we’ve been financing a redundant European parliament in Brussels and its monthly weekend break in Strasburg (at a cost of only €7 million per trip) for far too long. That money could have been used to combat social injustice, instead of being frittered away by a band of complacent Eurocrats.
“There’s no point going into my own feelings,” Ms. Cosslett says. “I made that mistake after the general election and was mocked by right-wingers... If you are young and experiencing feelings of fury and heartbreak about the result, you are justified in doing so... This is one of those momentous turning points in our personal timelines; if you’re pissed off, you are right to be.”
This is riding the bucking bronco of rampant populism.
Why were Cosslett, the Guardian and the young not ‘pissed off’ before?
If the young want to influence policy, change the future, alter the balance, they can do one of two things: a) work within the political framework to change and improve it, or b) they can write silly blog articles for The Guardian.
I didn’t vote.
I’m a British citizen, but I’ve lived in Italy for the last 36 years.
I don’t feel sufficiently informed to vote regarding the British dilemma: Stay or Leave?
That’s why I have waited until this moment before expressing an opinion.
Everyone who has the right and the desire to vote will have done so.
Now the votes are being counted, and we’re all on the edge of our seats awaiting the outcome.
I would have voted to leave the European Community.
The murder of Jo Cox brought emotions into play which ought not to have influenced the way a nation approaches such an important referendum.
On such a serious and complex matter?
A referendum represents a failure of government, an avoidance of responsibility. Jo Cox may have fuelled some of the violent emotions which contributed to her death while canvassing for people to vote as she would have liked them to vote. Certainly, she fuelled the emotions of millions of people by her untimely death. But while her murder is tragic, its impact on the core question adds nothing to what we did, or didn’t know.
The vote is not for or against Jo Cox and the opinions she held dear.
The question is Europe, the future of Europe, the unity of Europe.
Does Europe exist as a community, as a union of confederate nations?
I believe that it does not.
Walls and barricades are going up all over Europe in defence of borders, and in defiance of the Schengen agreement. The lack of a unified European response to the question of immigration, an incapacity to assist genuine refugees, is a major political and social failure which will impact on the nature of every country inside the European ‘curtain’ in the coming years.
The abandonment of Greece, the heartless destruction of the Greek people, would have seemed appalling to Lord Byron, but now it’s the norm. The payment of Turkey to accommodate Syrian war refugees is cowardly and unsatisfactory.
The German government encouraged the flow – remember Merkel’s decision to ‘welcome a million (well-educated) Syrian refugees’ without consulting her European partners? Then, she changed her mind. That shift of policy pushed France, Austria, the Balkan states, and Britain to turn their backs on misery.
Is this political unity? Is this a caring community? Is this Europe?
Refugees won’t disappear. They have to go somewhere.
Indeed, the Mediterranean basin seems destined to become a dumping ground for the unloved and the unwanted. A two-tier European system? It exists already. Italy is overrun with so-called ‘boat people’ from Africa – the ‘rejects’ no European country wants – whose only resource is to beg, or labour under the burning sun picking plums or tomatoes for €1 a day.
Europe has created slavery, and turned its back on the problem.
At a political level, Europe has also failed to guarantee democracy.
Millions of lives were lost in the fight against totalitarianism seventy years ago, yet right-wing extremism is growing fast in Europe – in France, Poland, Austria, Germany and Britain. Italy – once a Fascist state – has been ruled by a Europe-approved oligarchy since 2011, when elected premier, Silvio Berlusconi, was rejected by the European Commission. It all began with The Economist (July 30th, 2003 – Is This Man Fit To Rule Italy?), and ended with a complicit smile for the tv camera between Merkel and Nicolas Sarkosy.
Five years later, there is still no sign of an Italian election on the horizon.
Europe doesn’t need elections.
A council of experts – non-elected yes-men – dictates the financial and political ‘road map’ (God save us from these mumbo-jumbo Anglicisms!) which the chosen representatives of each country must follow if they wish to keep their seats in Berlaymont, the home of the European Commission...
I could go on for hours, but will stop here.
I hope that Britain votes to leave the EC.
I hope that other countries will hasten to follow the British example.