Confession: I’ve resisted joining Goodreads for the longest time. While I’ve long used–and appreciated!–the site to get information about books and read non-editorial reviews, I didn’t want an author account.* The main reason why? The stars.
To clarify, I don’t think there is anything wrong with rating and reviewing books, and I certainly don’t judge anyone who does. Ratings can be a very useful tool for readers, and even authors! My problem is that Ipersonallycan’t figure out a way to use the stars that seems fair to me as a reader as well as fair to the rest of the people on the site.
The thing is, the star rating system (on Goodreads, Amazon, or any site that encourages quantitative ratings of books) doesn’t use a standardized metric. Each individual on the site has to come up with their own, unique rating system–and they might vary their method depending on the book, their mood, or changing tastes. That’s how you get one-star reviews ofJane Eyreand five-star reviews of critically-trashed commercial fiction. Some people rate based on personal opinion. Some based on quality of the writing, despite whether or not they enjoyed the work. Others rate on whether their expectations (based on category, genre, etc.) were met. (To be honest, that’s probably the method that makes the most sense to me. Otherwise I would feel weird about giving five stars to both a lauded classic and a beach read, you know? They weren’t intended to be the same type of work or reading experience–and that’s okay.)
If a reader wants an apple but gets an orange, is that 1 star for not being the desired apple? Or however many stars the book deserves as an orange? Because that orange book was never intended to satisfy apple cravings, anyway.
(Now I want some fruit.)
A solution, of course, is writing a review that explains the rationale behind the stars. But some people–like me–don’t want to review. And for that reason, I’m shelving books aplenty on Goodreads, but I won’t be rating them. It doesn’t seem fair to assign a quantitative measure without explaining how I got there. I really value Goodreads as a reference and a community, and I’m excited to become more active there, but for now I think I’ll keep a blank slate of stars.
Are you on Goodreads? How do you approach reviews and stars?
One of the many fun things about being part of OneFour KidLit is getting to interview debut 2013 authors about their great new books. Tomorrow, my interview with Laura Golden, author of Every Day After, will be up on the OneFour blog. But I couldn’t wait until then to post about this historical MG gem. Here’s a little about the book, from Goodreads:
Trouble has rained down
on Lizzie Hawkins. Her daddy has deserted the family, her mama is
silent with sadness, and the bank is after their house. Daddy
always said Lizzie was born to succeed, but right now she can’t even
hold on to her top grades or her best friend, Ben. Bratty newcomer Erin
Sawyer has weaseled both away from Lizzie, but Erin won’t be satisfied
until Lizzie is out of her hair for good, packed off straight to the
nearest orphanage.
Still, Lizzie refuses to lose what’s left of
her family. With the bank deadline fast approaching, Erin causing strife
at every turn, and Mama and Ben slipping away from her, Lizzie finds
comfort writing in her journal and looking at Daddy’s face in the
heirloom locket he left her. She’s keeping her head high and holding
onto hope that Daddy returns on her twelfth birthday. Still, she can’t
help wondering: Why did Daddy have to leave? And can I save us if he
doesn’t come home?
Times may be tough in Bittersweet, Alabama,
but the unsinkable Lizzie Hawkins will inspire readers with her
resilience and determination.
Laura kindly lent an ARC to me so I could read Every Day After in advance of our interview–although I plan to buy a copy once it hits shelves, because this is one of those marvelous MG books that will be an instant classic. The character development is rich, the setting is so real that you start to feel like you have GooGoo Clusters stuck in your teeth (a candy that Lizzie longs for in the book), and the themes and message are timeless. It really struck me, while reading, how relevant a story about a young girl staying strong in the face of economic troubles is today. Lizzie’s determination and strength are a model to anyone, of any age, who is struggling.
But this is also a great MG story about community, friendship, and finding yourself, one with plenty of sweet humor. I highly recommend that tomorrow, you pick up a copy of Every Day After.
To see what other marvelous middle-grade books readers and writers are blogging about today, check out Shannon Whitney Messenger’s blog for the MMGM links!
A question I get asked a lot is why I write MG. The shortest answer is: I like it. For a slightly longer but still not comprehensive answer, check out the Mad for MG feature at the OneFour Kid Lit blog today, in which all of us ’14-debut MG writers talk about why we’ve found a home in this category. Also, we have pictures. (Spoiler alert: Mine is not from when I was a middle-grader. I swear that’s not to spare myself from having photographic evidence of my awkward phase on the Internet, but just because I am old enough that all middle-school pictures of me are in albums and not on my computer.)
This rambling post is one I’d been meaning to write for a while, and then I read Katy Upperman’s fabulous post On Insanity last week,* which made me want to post it even more. One of the hardest things about being a writer is quashing the impulse to compare your trajectory with everyone else’s. Or what you think everyone else’s is. And on social media, we typically see mostly the big milestones that people reach: finishing a draft, getting an agent, winning a contest, selling a book. There’s a constant chanting of good news and big news for other people through blogs and Twitter and Tumblr. Well, yay! That is awesome. Good news for one is sort of good news for all, because it means that our industry is thriving and authors are creating and readers are buying. But the steady stream of “NEWS!” also presents an illusion, one that things are happening faster, or easier, or more frequently for other people.
The thing that I’m feeling all compare-y about lately is speed, or the lack thereof (in terms of how quickly I can finish a project). The more I tune into Twitter, the more I start to think that everyone else is writing perfect first drafts in four weeks, and still blogging, tweeting, and tumblring regularly. Meanwhile I am revising . . . and revising . . . and revising the same old WIPs. Which has been driving me slightly nuts. Honestly, I am kind of a slow writer, and I’m not a full-time one. That’s right–I know that the limitations on my writing speed are understandable–it’s not like I’m slow because I keep choosing to binge-watch Nashville instead of revise a chapter.** I get that I should feel good about myself for the solid progress I am making, at a pace that works for me. The fact that I’m steadily working and meeting actual deadlines is what’s important, right? Sure. But when I dip into my Twitter feed and the blogosphere, I kind of lose that perspective. I find myself thinking, You’re doing it wrong,slowpoke.
Writing’s not easy, and everyone’s struggling with something. Comparison is an unnecessary problem, but a difficult one to fix. Is the solution to avoid social media? I don’t think so: It can be a great, beneficial, stimulating, supportive place. If there’s a solution, I think it’s to remind ourselves that there is no right way to do this–write, tell stories, create. Or, if there is a “right” way, it is whichever way is working for you. Slow and steady can win the race. So can fast and frenzied. I love this post from The Kindness Project on making time, and this line stuck with me: “Kindness, like most things, starts with yourself.” Letting go of the need to compare–that’s also an act of kindness toward yourself.
From now on, I’ll ask myself: Are you doing what works for you, right now (while still keeping yourself accountable)?
Great. Then you’re not doing it wrong.
*Uh, at the beginning of May, actually. See? I am slow (and that’s . . . okay). **Not that there is anything wrong with binge-watching TV once in a while, or specifically watching Nashville, which is a delightful show. Please do not tell me what happened in the finale because I haven’t watched it yet. 🙂