Do you ever grow weary of internet opinions?
Take the movie Red Sparrow.
A Russian spy caper starring Jennifer Lawrence, it gored its way into theaters almost two weeks ago. Ignoring lukewarm reviews, I showed up on opening day and munched popcorn through one of the bloodiest scenes.
No, I’m not a violence whore. Special effects fascinate me. I wonder how they make severing a guy’s carotid artery with a wire look so realistic.
Overall, I enjoyed Red Sparrow, causing me to return to a constant tenet of life:
The only way to judge something is to experience it for myself.
I left the movie and devoured the entire Red Sparrow series in four days. Yes, the book was better than the movie, but isn’t that always true?
Over the course of three books, I bonded with characters created by Jason Matthews, a former CIA agent. I was shellshocked by the ending of The Kremlin’s Candidate, the final book in the trilogy.
And in typical fashion, I went to Goodreads to leave a review, only to find numerous readers leaving one star because they didn’t like the ending.
We have GOT to rethink how we rate creations.
My Goodreads review of The Kremlin’s Candidate explores my feelings on writing reviews. Enjoy.
When a book wiggles under your skin and lingers for days, it’s a sign of a good read.
My review may be lengthy, but I’ll attempt to avoid spoilers and still make my points. Multiple reviewers call the end of this book/series a letdown. As a fellow author, I don’t think Matthews had any other choice.
Series fiction is a tough write. Creators want to keep pushing ourselves to make something new. But the longer a series goes, the more readers get attached to specific characters, devices, and expectations. Conflict comes from all kinds of human interaction.
But when the writer has taken the conflict in every believable/true direction for the characters, she/he is faced with a choice: Do I keep running this increasingly tiresome gauntlet with these people, something readers will surely start to ding me for down the road?; or do I throw a grenade in what I’ve created and open up more possibilities for engaging conflict The writer must make what’s true to her/his creative vision, listen to what the characters say and do, and fulfill the requirements of the publisher.
Often today, the publisher dictates a book’s arc.
In Matthews’ case, he was forced to delay publication of this book to coincide with the launch of the movie Red Sparrow. On top of that, he was required to do cumbersome rewrites to build bits of our present news cycle into the plot, something that added unnecessary bulk to the story.
I don’t blame him. It’s tough to rewrite entire scenes and maintain a flow, especially when oftentimes the publisher is more interested in pushing a lucrative, highly anticipated book out the door to coincide with movie marketing than in doing another proof. I believe the latter happened in this case, but again, I don’t fault Matthews. So many of the things we authors get blamed for aren’t necessarily our faults. Our name’s on the cover, though, and we have to be prepared to take ownership of everything. Like the misspelling of “lectern,” which the publisher’s proofer missed.
So I’m asking a question.
If you were upset enough with the ending to give this book one star, what does that really mean? You were invested in these characters. Loved them, obviously. You stuck it out to the end, pulling for them every step of the way. You didn’t appreciate the unexpected sucker punch. In truth, neither did I, though I saw it coming from the first quarter of the book.
Again, it was really the only option.
I dragged my feet reading, because I didn’t want that answer. I was still shellshocked. The pages seeped into my dreams and disrupted my sleep. With so many books that make no impression whatsoever, that are forgotten 5 seconds after reading, why would a book with that sort of impact be deserving of 1 star just because you didn’t like the ending?
I know. I know. Don’t question reviews. People have ingrained reasons for them, moulded by years/decades/lifetimes of experiences I will never know.
But shouldn’t books that make us upset/angry/throw them against the wall be just as deserving of high marks as those that put us in a state of orgiastic glee?
The writing, coupled with reader life experience, leaked into the cracks and elicited emotion. Those books get 4 or 5 stars from me every time.
And no, I am not friends with Jason Matthews. I am not published by his publisher or any of their imprints. I don’t know his agent. If I asked him to blurb any of my books, he’d never reply. In fact, he’d probably spray his computer screen with the force of his guffaw and get back to his very lucrative work.
Check out the Red Sparrow Trilogy HERE.
Learn more about the movie Red Sparrow HERE.
3 Comments
I agree–books that generate that much emotion in us, whether positive or negative emotion, should generate more than a 1-star review. In fact, if I thought a book was only 1-star worthy, I wouldn’t bother finishing it. Who has time for that? Even 2-star ones I’ll only finish if it’s for a book club.
What I’ve noticed in reviews is that many people treat them more like a book-club discussion than a review. They’ll often pick one or two areas and go into detail about that, whereas an actual review tends to approach a novel more generally. But that’s okay. That’s what Goodreads is about–kind of like a giant book club. One person’s 5-star is another’s 1-star. I’m as baffled about it as you!
I’m probably kinder than I used to be, because I know how hard writing a book is. Having the balls to publish is worth at least 3 stars to me. I’ve given 1’s and 2’s, but not tons of either.
I agree–it’s usually at least worth a 3 for the work that went into it and the courage to put it out there.
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