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Image by Prawny from Pixabay "books as payment for review"

Why, as a book reviewer, I hate the phrase “book as payment for a review” and other sundry thoughts

I was part of a tweet exchange last night and this morning that got me thinking. Now, I hope this doesn’t feel like a subtweet (can you call it that if it’s a blog post), because I actually agree with everyone involved. But the whole thing got me thinking about why I took (and take) the position I did and why I used (and use) the language I did. It’s not always flattering (to myself or anyone else), but I’m going to be honest here; and I will go ahead and acknowledge several generalities in advance.

Here is the exchange, for the record:

 

As you can see, it’s not heated or controversial. I was quibbling about language and honestly, in retrospect, @SoManyBooks6 was probably right to call it semanticsBut, for better or worse, I do have a position I was coming from in asserting that the difference between what they and I said in our initial exchanges differ. Perhaps only enough to make it feel like it surpasses semantics, but definitely enough that I built myself a hill to die on. And this post is going to be heavily based on feelings.

Again, to be absolutely clear, I agree with the other bloggers on the larger point and @SoManyBooks6 (from So Many Books), @Undertheradarb2 (from Under The Radar SFF Books), and @BlogSpells (from Spells and Spaceships) seem like my kind of people. So, I hope no one takes this as any sort of attack on them. It 100% isn’t meant to be. It’s just that our exchange got me examining some of my own internal biases and beliefs.

Undoubtedly, @BlogSpell’s language in the second exchange, where they took issue with my word choice in the same way I previously had @SoManyBooks6’s, is better—more polite, more accurate, and even more common. What I want to address in this post is why I didn’t use it to begin with.

The short answer is that I didn’t think of it. But that’s a surface-level answer. I mean, if it’s the most common, almost industry-standard verbiage, why wasn’t it what came to mind? I’m fairly sure I could have fit it in the 280 characters, even if it would have been close.

crowd by Gerd Altmann from PixabayThe deeper answer is that after almost 8 years running this book review blog and being inundated with book review requests, the the whole scenario too often doesn’t actually feel like an equal exchange anymore.

Of course, this too requires a deeper critical look. And I don’t always come out smelling like roses. Part of the issue—the simplest—is that an exchange of this sort is between two people. An author* contacts me and requests that I read their book, I say yes, they send me the book, and I read it and post a review. This is the exchange and mutual agreement, a book for a review.

I know that at it’s heart, no matter what, each author and their request is an individual. But the truth is that this gets lost a lot of the time for me. What more often has happened** is that I open my email to 25 request, most of them not following my policies and procedures. Which means:

a) they’re asking me to review their book but weren’t willing to take the time to read my preferences,  or
b) they read them and didn’t respect them enough to abide by them.

human by Gerd Altmann from PixabayThis is annoying by itself. But it also means that by the time I’ve come to the one author who has asked me to read a book within my stated perimeters and I respond in the affirmative to their request, I’ve had to send out several ‘this doesn’t fit my stated policies and procedures’ emails first. Which opens the whole affair to feeling like it’s between me and an advancing horde, instead of me and an individual author.

Notice the feel in there again. This is about how it feels, not how it literally is. And when you feel that the majority of people requesting you read and review their book have either done so without taking even a few moments to get to know you and what you read, or have read your policies and procedures and decided to ignore them, the respectful exchange aspect gets occulded.

It starts to feel like you’re considered an openly available resource, not a person. And, in my case, that shifted me away from feeling respected and that there was anything mutual in the exchange. I suppose I could have gone any number of ways at that point. If it wasn’t a mutual exchange, what was it? Apparently, I settled on doing authors a favor. And I think I did this as a way of subconsciously protecting myself. I’d rather be doing a favor for an author than being taken advantage of by them.

Is it an accurate description of what is happening? Maybe if you squint at it in the right light. And I’ve apparently felt this way for a while.

The ‘ How to Piss off a Book Blogger: Treat Them Like an Employee‘ post, referred to in one of the tweets, is from 2013 and in it I say:

I blog about books. I do this for the sheer joy of it and part of that joy comes from doing other authors a good turn. Because make no mistake, if I review your book on request I am doing you a favour. I am passing up the opportunity to read any number other books. Books I’ve chosen because they appeal to me. Books I may, perhaps even will probably, like more than yours for just that reason. Books that sit unread because I am kind enough to take requests, your requests.

Without even thinking about it, a favor is how I characterized the author-blogger exchange in the tweet last night. And I think that says a lot about how book bloggers start to feel devalued over time. (Of course, I can only speak for myself, but I do believe that the number of bloggers who have closed their blogs or simply stopped taking requests speaks to me not being the only one to feel at least some of this.)

I also think it’s important to take a moment here to acknowledge that I’m absolutely not talking about every author and every exchange I’ve had on this blog. I have met some marvelous people and have read some wonderful books. I wouldn’t keep blogging if the good didn’t outweigh the bad. Plus, I’ll obviously never know how many authors DID read the P&P, realized that I didn’t read their book’s genre (or whatever aspect disqualified them), and rightly chose not to request a review from me. I appreciate every one of them. I love reading, books, and authors. So, it seems counterintuitive to appreciate an author NOT contacting me. But I don’t enjoy every genre and I appreciate those who respect that and my time.

Unfortunately, those that annoy you, or the sheer volume of those that do, is what tends to stick in one’s mind over the long run, especially if it’s a repeated issue. I know if I go back and read some of the posts similar to this one, that I’ve written in the past; the ones where I complain about this or that aspect of accepting book review requests (and there are an embarrassingly large number of them), I’d probably realize the issues are comparatively minor. But even small things start to chafe after repeated exposure. We’re left with a book review blogger who forgets not to center herself, who forgets that the exchange between herself and an author is supposed to be singular, and a mutually beneficial one.

boss by Gerd Altmann from PixabayTo bring this all back around to the original tweet, this is also why I have such a hard time with the rather innocuous phrasing “ebook as payment.” I am neither an employee nor a contractor, both of whom receive a “payment” and are therefore subordinate to whomever is paying them, for the period of the exchange. It comes down to the power differential. If you’ve been paid for a service by someone, you are subject to their whims. While this might be a mutual exchange—a good for a service—it is not an equal one. “The client is always right.” “I hired you, so…” It gives the payer the right to make demands of the payee, and the payee is expected to acquiese. Nothing in the book-in-exchange-for-a-review should leave room for demands. And as a blogger who already feels undervalued, that takes on a whole new and problematic aspect.

It starts to feel like all those authors, who already didn’t respect me enough to acknowledge that I’m not open to receiving requests from every author who feels entitled to email me, only need send a book—a payment—to excuse their own boorish behavior. And more importantly, as per good customer service, the reviewer should smile and accept it. We’ve been paid, after all.

As I said above, I feel like this is more than semantics, though I acknowledge that it likely isn’t. Was it a debate worth having on twitter with a virtual stranger? Of course not. But I always find it worth a deep dive into my own thought processes. It’s too easy to let things settle into unacknowledged biases and then have them creep up at inopportune times.

If you want a TL;DR version, the main points I’d like people to take away from this (beyond my ramblings about myself) are:

  • A book in exchange for a review is not a payment. It is simply what enable the blogger to read and review your book. @SoManyBooks6’s initial point about not expecting bloggers to buy your book is spot on. I consider a review request that expects me to purchase the book an advertisement, not a valid review request.
  • Bloggers do not appreciate when their stated preferences are ignored. The response will never (at least in my case) be, “Oh, I said I didn’t like this kind of book, but I’m so glad they messaged me. I’ll make an exception.” Never. It will be annoyance.
  • Authors’ attitudes toward bloggers’ (and this includes if you do or don’t respect our stated reading preferences) absolutely effect our willingness to continue accepting book review requests. I’ve found that over time I judge authors en masse, which means your bad behavior negatively effects everyone.
  • We KNOW when you have made no effort and over time that drives us way from blogging. Again, you’re ruining it for everyone.
  • Because of the above 4 points, I’ve apparently become overly sensitive to some otherwise innocent phraseology and due to a simple tweet thread I had reason to stop, examine and acknowledge this.

I realize that I’ve written on this sort of thing before and it makes me sound bitter and hateful. Especially since, as I noted in the footnote below, I’m not currently getting the flood of review requests I once did. But I do honestly process thing better when I write them out. So, some of it absolutely is for my own benefit. The tweet thread really did make me stop and go, “Why did I phrase it that way, exactly?” It’s not that I was unaware, I wrote a ranty blog post about it in 2013, after all. But it’s amazing how long you can go without thinking about something and that’s how sneaking biases can slip in.

But I also think every blog post out in the wild that a review-requesting author might stumble across that reminds them not to treat their bloggers as disposable, blank -late commodities is important. We have reading preferences, feelings, and preferred processes that should be taken into account. We don’t work for you. Hopefully, we work with you.


*I’m going to use author, but acknowledge it could be an author, a publisher, a PR manager, a personal assistant, etc.

**I use the past tense here because I currently have what I’ll accept for review locked pretty tightly and I’m not currently getting a lot of requests. But this hasn’t always been the case. (I actually have some really unflattering and probably controversial thoughts on why this reduction in requests has been successful this time, where it hasn’t in the past. But I’m not going to address them here.)

Why I Write Reviews

Why *I* Review Books

Before I get the list of reasons I write reviews of almost all the books I read let me give you a little background about why I decided to write this post today. I’ll also acknowledge up front that I’m well aware that the fact that, no matter how much I say I love authors, the fact that I I complain quite so regularly about the book requests I get makes me seem bitchy and extra sensitive. My only real excuse is that something might not bother you (or me) generally, but once you’ve encountered it the four thousandth time you get pretty persnickety about it. You’re welcome to just think I’m a bitch though.

So, this all came up today when I got a book review request. There wasn’t anything really horrifying about it except that it was thin on the particular details I’d use to decide if I actually want to read the book or not. I’m not going to quote it directly, I’m not trying to shame the author AT ALL. But the author basically only gave me the title, release date, blurb, an Amazon link, and the fact that it’s a “Fantasy story of approximately 43,000 words, set in medieval times.” And while that might seem like enough, I like a cover image and there was no mention of what format was being offered for review. I’m currently only open to physical books, and many books aren’t available in physical formats these days, so this needs to be explicitly stated. (This one, for example, has no physical edition listed on Amazon, so it likely doesn’t meet my stated policies.)

But more than that, what I discovered when I when I followed the Amazon link is that the book is book four in a series. So, I politely wrote the author back and declined the review request, stating that I wasn’t prepared to read a fourth book without having read the previous books, nor was I in a position to commit to reading four books (even short ones). More honestly, I’m not going to accept four books from an unknown author, who’s writing I might not like. Even more honestly, I’m gun-shy of male fantasy authors and I’m not going to accept four fantasy books, written by a man, that I might find no relatable female characters in. One I might chance, but not four.

The author wrote me back, saying “Just to let you know, the XXX are a loosely connected series. I have tried to make it so that you can read them out of order without it being an issue.  That said, XXX is the first one in the series where it might be useful to the reader to know what happened in the previous book, XXX“.

And here is where this story becomes relevant to this post. I glanced up at my husband and said, “Why wasn’t all of that pertinent information in the first email? Why make me ask for it?” Of course, I had to then explain what I was talking about. And my husband reasonably responded by reminding me that I’d just recently written a whole post about a bad book review request and here I was raising an eyebrow at another one. Why keep my review requests open at all? I’m accepting very many. Why keep reviewing at all?

To be clear, this wasn’t a bad request on the magnitude of the one I wrote about last week. It was just one that probably didn’t really fit my stated preferences (again, no physical format apparently available) and lacking important information. But the Marital Unit’s question got me thinking, both about why I keep my request queue open and why I review at all. Then I went and took a shower, which meant I had 15 uninterrupted minutes to think on my answer.

So, I decided to work it out on paper (or the blog) while I drink one more cup of tea, before going downstairs to listen to an audio book and fold about four hundred loads of clean laundry.

The first question can be answered easily. I keep my review requests open because I know authors have a numerical dependency on reviews. Good or bad they need numbers, they need reviews. But it’s also extremely hard to find reviewers for indie and self-published books. So, I enjoy the thought of being helpful in this particular regard.

It’s true that I’m not accepting very many these days. But that is largely because I’ve told myself I’m only going to accept physical copies of books I’m truly interested in. I’ve tried many different methods of accepting requests over the years and the end results always seems to be feast or famine. I’m either being flooded with irrelevant requests or lock it down so tight they trickle in (and still only a fraction of that trickle are truly meet my stated preferences and requirements). I’m fairly locked down right now.

The question of why I review in general is much more multi-layered, though perhaps not more complicated.

  1. I write reviews because I enjoy it. I enjoy the distillation of my thought on a book and reading experience, and the sense of conclusion writing a review gives that reading experience. It’s wholly about me. I enjoy it.
  2. I write reviews because I am a bit of a list-maker and collector. I really like to see the number of books read and reviewed pile up. I love that end of year tally. It’s wholly about me. I enjoy it.
  3. I write reviews because it creates a record that I can go back and reference if I’ve forgotten the details of a book (or if I’ve read the book at all). It’s wholly about me. I enjoy the help.
  4. I write reviews because it enables me to compare reviews with my book-friends and prompts interesting book-discussions. It’s all about me. I enjoy it.
  5. I write reviews because I know other readers find them helpful (reviews in general, not necessarily mine) and I like to be helpful. It’s mostly about me. I enjoy it.
  6. I write reviews because I know authors need them and I like to help. It’s mostly about me. I enjoy it.

I do not, however, write reviews to help authors become better writers. I actually really hate this particular point in the ‘why you should review books’ debate. I don’t consider myself in a position to teach authors. I can often recognize flat out poor writing (which is usually due to a lack of editor, rather than an actual lack of skill) and I might call that out, but beyond that, I don’t consider helping authors be better authors in my wheelhouse. I like to be helpful, but I get to decide what I’m helpful about. And that doesn’t make the list.

I also don’t write reviews so that I can get free books. Lord knows I have no shortage of books already. A copy of a book is expected to facilitate my ability to read and review said book, but the receipt of a free book (especially an ebook) is in no way a reason for me to review.

I don’t write reviews to make myself look smart. I don’t write reviews to be purposefully cruel or bully authors. (I’ve been accused of this.) I don’t write reviews because I’m on an ego trip or have any axe to grind. I don’t write reviews to further any political, social, or personal agenda.

I write reviews because I enjoy writing them. That’s really what it comes down to. Everything else is bonus.

How about you; do you write reviews? If so, why? And if not, why not?

nightmare-by TheDigitalArtist:7177 from pixaby

Bitchy Reviewer Being Bitchy…Again

I’m going to have a little rant /slash/ in-the-reviewer’s-head session here. Earlier today I received a book review request (I’m using the term request loosely, there is no actual request anywhere in the email) which I found presumptuous and arrogant. And since I’ve received some variation of this sort of request several times before, I was “all aflutter with not-again-annoyance” (to quote myself).

The first thing I did after receiving the email request was roll my eyes, but the next was to send this tweet out.

Soon after I sent out the tweet, I had poster’s remorse. I figured it wouldn’t actually irritate someone who hadn’t received so many arrogant requests before and, therefore, wasn’t quite so primed to find red flags in it. Thus this post. I’m going to break down why this particular post raised my eyebrow.

Just in case the image above doesn’t generate, I’ll quote the email I received below, though I’m redacting the author’s name and the title of the book. My point isn’t to shame them personally, but to show why (from my perspective) this request will never entice me to read their book. And hopefully prevent others making the same mistake.

Dear Sadie,

I have chosen to send you the first chapters of my book called XXX after reading on Amazon your review of  The Alchemist.

XXX is not just a spiritual or fictional book; it is much more than that. It is one of the most concise and informative books you have ever read. In the glossary, there is a wide range of information and website links for your spiritual awakening. This book will definitely change the way you see the world and yourself, and it can save your life and the people you love.

This is NOT a new marketing strategy. The COVID-19 pandemic is speeding things up, so I’m willing to send you the book for free if I have to.

I recommend that you read the first chapters as soon as possible. You will find a PDF file attached to this email.

Namaste,

I’m just going to start at the top and move line-by-line from there.

I have no issue with the greeting. In fact, they personalized it. No, Dear Reviewer here. So, good start.

My problem starts with “I have chosen to…” This attempts to set the tone of the exchange. They chose me. I should be grateful. This first sentence attempts to place me in a subordinate position. Because when one is grateful they go out of their way to be as helpful as possible in return.

My next issue is with “after reading on Amazon your review of  The Alchemist.” Here’s what I said about The Alchemist.

the alchemist review

It’s hardly a raving review that would suggest I’m looking for similar reads. Perhaps the author of the review request meant, ‘since you didn’t particularly care for The Alchemist you’ll like my book that is different because…’ But as they didn’t say that, I can only go with the guess that they hit up all the reviewers of The Alchemist that had open email addresses. Yes, I feel chosen and important. 🙄

Moving on to “XXX is not just a spiritual or fictional book.” I know some people may not see spiritual and religious as the same. But I think it’s fair, when speaking of book genres, that they fall in the same broad category and my policies state I “would prefer no YA or religious books, please.” It’s even in red….purple….pink…ish so it stands out.

policies screenshot

But even if you read that sentence and didn’t think it included spiritual books, the book pointedly isn’t Science Fiction, Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance or an LGBTQ+ title. Thus, my policies already tell this author I don’t really want to read their book. I rather suspect this author didn’t bother reading the policies though.

We’ll just touch briefly on the assumptions about my education involved in the statement “It is one of the most concise and informative books you have ever read.” How do they presume to know what I may or may not have read? I’m a woman with two Masters degrees (and as an aside, a BSc that includes a minor in religious studies) and runs a book review blog. I’ve read quite a lot.

Next, “This book will definitely change the way you see the world and yourself,” This is either pointless hyperbole or a truly bold statement that again presumes to know an awful lot about me personally. And I simply don’t even know what to make of the claim “and it can save your life and the people you love.

This is NOT a new marketing strategy.” Then what is it? It’s certainly a marketing strategy. Is it an old marketing strategy dressed up as something different?

The COVID-19 pandemic is speeding things up...” What things, and how is Covid-19 speeding them up in any way that relates to me as a reviewer or the author’s decision to email me, pertinent?

… so I’m willing to send you the book for free if I have to.” Did you expect not to? Did you expect to request (demand) not only a review, but a purchase as well? Sending a copy of the book is a normal and expected part of the review request process. But I feel like the author included this line to emphasize how dire this mysterious situation is. Again, trying to control and manipulate the exchange, or at least my reaction to it.

I recommend that you read the first chapters as soon as possible.” This is where I really bristled. I did not ask for this author’s recommendation. In fact, I consider this a direct order from a person who should instead be humbly requesting I read the first chapter of their book at my convenience. And that’s assuming they aren’t asking if I’d be willing to read the first chapter of their book. That is a markedly different tone to what is presented. It presumes to have the authority to instruct me and the right to make demands of my time. It’s so certain of itself it has even included the chapter in question.

Then, after speaking to me as a questionably educated subordinate it signs off with Namaste, a sign of respect. Talk about a hollow misappropriation of the term!

Here’s the thing though. I can pick this email apart line-by-line, but it’s not the line-by-line sentences that are the problem. It’s the overall tone and what it tells me as a reader and reviewer. I’ve been doing this for seven years, I’ve learned a few things. Here’s what I can guess about this author already. And I’m pretty confident about it too.

I would normally say they’re almost certainly male (which leads me to wonder if they’d have employed the same domineering tone if they’d been writing to a male reviewer). But Google tells me the author’s name is generally female (and if it’s a man writing under a woman’s pen name I’d never know). Regardless, they are used to a certain amount of entitled pandering.  The book is almost certainly self-published and has probably never been seen by a professional editor. And here’s the real kicker. The author will almost certainly not deal well with criticism. If I give this book anything less than a 4-star rating I will probably deal with grief over it.

I’ll give as an example here the time I gave a someone’s book a 2.5 star rating and equivalent review. Then, TWO YEARS later was informed by a concerned by-stander that the author was having an explicit rape scene critiqued in a writers group and bragging about how he’d written it to avenge the reviewer who panned his book. This is the sort of vibe I get from this review requesta person who won’t take rejection well and then won’t want to let it go.

But Sadie, how could you possibly know that, you might ask. Well, I don’t know. But that is the impression the ‘request’ gives me and it’s backed by a fair amount of anecdotal evidence. Anyone who sends me a request that over-blown and pompous is obviously used to getting their own way, not being contradicted, and will assume they don’t need the help normal people do. After all, they don’t have to follow the social niceties. Not even when requesting a review of a book about spiritual awakenings.

At least that’s what I think the book is about. The email doesn’t actually give me any real concrete information about the subject of the book. After all, I’m not supposed to be deciding to read it because of any interest in the subject, but instead because the author is so impassioned, impressive, and told me to. In that regard, I’m not even supposed to be deciding to read it. I’m just supposed to do it. You’d think someone writing about some variant of spirituality would be a little more socially aware. But, oh well.

All in all, no, I won’t be reading this book. I wouldn’t be regardless of how the request was worded. It’s not within the stated genres I read and, since I can’t find a whiff of it online (Amazon, Goodreads, etc), probably not available in physical form, the only format I’m currently open to, per my policies.

So, while I admit I’ve written this in part simply for my own amusement, I think it’s also a point authors and publishers (or whomever is making a book review request) might take on board. Tone matters, manners matter. Words are not just words, they tell stories and give impressions. And that is as true outside the confines of your book cover as inside. This author burned a bridge pretty badly here. How many times have you (or I) inadvertently done the same?