Friday, October 1, 2010
It would seem not all reviews are great. I’m stunned—stunned, I tell you—that this guy thinks my writing is just OK. I’m mean, sure. I don’t expect everyone to have great taste. Budweiser remains America’s number one beer and Ke$ha is still on the charts. Not every reviewer can smell greatness like fried dough on a hot summer night. But OK? Sharing an elevator is OK. Finding a penny is OK.
The review is intriguing, though, because the writer is surprised to have liked the book. That part amazes me. If somebody spends years writing a novel, and a publisher spends thousands editing, creating cover art, printing, binding, shipping and promoting the thing, shouldn’t the surprise come when the novel ain’t that good? That happens to me all the time. There’s all kind of stuff on bookstore shelves that should never have made it out of .doc format. What I can’t quite figure out is why someone expects a book to be so-so, picks it up, reads it and can’t believe the activity ended as worthwhile.
Eh. I’m glad Don found me interesting. I’ll take it. It’s better than he never found me at all.
Critical Mass Cinco de Mayo review
Posted by Michael J. Martineck at 1:52 PM