Rant: Paid book reviews

A friend of mine has a book releasing soon, and she made the decision to pay two-hundred dollars for a single review from someone who is, apparently, a respected NY book reviewer (I've never heard of him, but trust she's done her research).

He also offers a marketing package and uses his own review to promo the book. This was a red flag to me. If he's taking money for the marketing component, then how can you trust the review to be honest?

The other option is to use one of the companies where you pay a fee and the book is provided to random readers for a set number of reviews. If it were me, I would choose the latter, to be sure the reviews are honest.

Now for the question, which I hope will be appropriate for your blog:
What is your opinion of this practice?(1)
Do you suggest this to your authors (2a), or recommend against it? (2b)

Writing, publishing, and marketing books is a tangled road for most of us authors. Thanks for providing a road map.

1. This practice is a vile and morally bankrupt way to make money. It caters to writers' anxiety and lack of knowledge about how book publicity works.

2a. No

2b. Yes. In fact, it's stronger than recommend against. I'd insist that any client of mine NOT do it because it tarnishes every other legitimate review you might get.

You can't buy reviews worth getting.

You can't buy reviews from someone who actually IS a respected book reviewer.  Apparently you can buy them from someone who claims to be.

Paid reviews are done by shills, not book reviewers. They won't tell you that. I just did.

If your friend hasn't coughed up  the money yet ask if her research included googling the "reviewer's" name and his reviews appear on any site OTHER than his own.  A "respected" reviewer gets quoted. (That's the whole purpose of reviews!)

If you want to test that theory, here are some respected reviewers: Ron Charles of the Washington Post. Oline Cogdill. Lesa Holstine.

There are LOTS of others.

If you want an easier test: do you recognize any of the books he's reviewed? Shills often find their targets among people who don't have access to the trade reviewers, or legit book reviewers.

The purpose of a book review is not to get a review. It's to use that review to get attention from readers. Readers pay attention to people they know. Unless this shill has real name recognition (which he doesn't because YOU have never heard of him) a review of any kind, let alone a paid one, isn't worth anything.


Here's the rule: Don't pay for reviews.

It's very tempting to think "what can it hurt" and that's exactly what these flim-flam artists are counting on. They KNOW you want to sell books, and they know how to write a pitch that hits every anxiety you've got about your book being published.

It requires a lot of confidence to turn away from this kind of beguiling sales pitch. Be confident your book will find readers the old fashioned way: people who read it and talk about it.

You'll find those folks on book reviewing blogs; on Goodreads; on Twitter. You'll find them from working your mailing list and doing events.  It won't be easy. It certainly won't feel anywhere as certain as a "review from a respected NY book reviewer" but what it will be is real.

Query Question: Can reviewing books hurt my chances with an agent

One issue that keeps me up at night—aside from school, plot holes, and oh-my-god-did-my-skirt-go-with-my-top-today—is whether being a Goodreads reviewer will affect my chances of being picked up by an agent. I NEVER bash an author in negative reviews, but I do have never-reading shelves for writers that I perceive to be rude to reviewers/bloggers (e.g. Kathleen Hale). What if an agent comes across a negative review of her client's book and decides not to rep me? Should I stop reviewing altogether?

well, no, but you're right to be thinking about this. 
I've mentioned this before but it bears repeating: trash one of my client's books and we're done.


Now by "trash" I do NOT mean a well-thought out, well-written review that points out plot holes, or unbelievable characters, or lack of tension.  Those are legitimate things to criticize about a book. I may not agree with your opinion, but I'm not going to add you to my fecal roster for writing them.


Where the line gets murky is exactly what you mentioned: never-reading shelves. Or "Authors I don't like" shelves. Or "Rude authors" shelves. Or "Authors who have spouses who should just shut the hell up" shelves.


Here  you're not talking about the book. You're talking about your perceptions of an author's behaviour. You'll want to be VERY careful about that because as we all know from the Justine Sacco Twitter fiasco, things get taken out of context, or someone doesn't pick up on irony, things go viral, and soon bear no resemblance to reality. You don't want to be on the wrong side of that. 


I think writing about books is an excellent way to hone your writing skills and get practice in how to talk about books. Stay on the right side of the professional line, avoid temptation to label any author with "will never read" and you'll be fine.

If you want to see what a good review that has some well-made points about one of my clients, here's our very own Colin Smith writing about Crashers by Dana Haynes. Colin is not a client, but he's a regular blog reader. Sadly, he was banished to The Great Pit of Carkoon last week, but I think he was rescued and returned.  He was NOT banished for this review.

"Ferrell’s eye-catching debut" yowza!

Not only is this a good review in Kirkus, it's one of the more artfully written trade reviews I've seen. I've left in unedited so you can see the whole thing.

He’s an accident-prone amnesiac, the lead, but his inability to feel pain brings him celebrity; Ferrell’s eye-catching debut is a mordant take on contemporary culture.

Out of the sandstorm he stumbles, this skinny young man with the bleeding head wound, into some circus tents near the Texas highway. There’s no sign of a wreck; what happened is a mystery, for the guy has lost his memory.

“I’m numb,” he says. No pain for Numb, his new name, and some gain for Mr. Tilly, sleazy owner of this bankrupt circus; Numb becomes their star attraction, hammering nails into himself. Next step: some time in the lion’s cage. The one person concerned for his welfare is Mal, the fire-eating machete juggler.

Numb survives, with deep claw marks in his thigh, and he and Mal travel to New York, where Mal has Numb continue his lucrative act. Mal is variously friend, exploiter and rival; that last role leads to his spectacular demise.

Soon Numb acquires a savvy talent agent who hooks him up (“cross-promotion”) with the Japanese Hiko, a hot downtown sculptor. She’s blind; doing his casts, she’s fascinated by his scarred skin texture. They become lovers (Hiko’s initiative); Numb moves in with her. The buzz grows. Hiko has a splashy opening; Numb does TV commercials and is on Dave.


Though it lacks the exhilarating strangeness of the circus, this world of surfaces is a perfect fit for a freak without a past; that past becomes irrelevant as Numb’s actions define his character. While drawn to danger, he’s basically passive, and stupidly self-destructive, cheating on Hiko with a beautiful model he’s been warned will use and discard him. Only near the end, in Los Angeles, where he’s set to star in his life story (“a reality formula”), does he rebel against his handlers and the sleaze they’re peddling.

Even though Ferrell’s exploration of identity comes up short, that’s a small blemish on this artfully barbed entertainment.

Avery Cates is not a nice man

When you get an email with the subject line: You & Your Talented Client, the Sadist, it's not a surprise that the pursed-lip, squinty-eyed, Church Lady acolyte spam filter says "not so fast, bucko."

I've learned to comb through the contents every once in a while, and boy am I glad I did, cause here's one of the most interesting posts about Jeff Somers and The Digital Plague that I've seen in a while.

Dawn Metcalf is a writer herself so it's interesting to see what she has to say about first person POV and sympathetic/redeemable characters.

I particularly liked what she said here: "I can empathize with Avery Cates (even though I’d never want to meet an Avery Cates!) but it’s not because I can sympathize with him; it’s because in the pages of Somers’ book, I am Avery Cates."