Hi, guys!! I hope you’re all having a great weekend! 💫
Today, I’m here with an issue that has cost me many sleepless nights in the past, and still does—mostly figuratively speaking, of course (I
may have a fondness for hyperboles)—but also literally*.
*Yes, I sometimes spend the time during which I unsuccessfully try to fall asleep thinking about my book ratings, and go on to compare books (which I gave the same ratings) in my mind—a thought process that can sometimes spiral into me finding myself on the path of a slow descent into madness.
But I digress.
The issue I want to address are book ratings—more specifically, how mine seem to suggest that I hate books*.
I think every one of us has been in a position in which we doubt ourselves as to our judgement, rating, and opinion of a book. At least, I hope that I’m not the only one who has.
Sometimes, because we think we’re being too critical, and sometimes, because we think we’re not being critical enough. Though, granted, the latter scenario is hardly ever a source of affliction for me—a fact that will make perfect sense to you, if you know my average rating of books.
Most of the time, because we seem to be in a minority with our opinion, but also, because we love reading other book bloggers’ and reviewers’ posts about books, and they can at times make us re-think our stance on them. (Again, I hope this doesn’t only happen to me.)
As I’ve established, I mostly find myself in the first situation—the one, in which I ask myself “am I, maybe, … too critical?”—and especially these past few days, I’ve been second-guessing myself more and more, because I’ve been reading a lot of books that pretty much all of my friends, and the majority of readers, have loved, and gushed about.
Let me present to you the latest one; They Both Die at the End, written by Adam Silvera.
Even before I started reading this book, I couldn’t help but notice the many four- and five-star ratings, and proclamations such as “this is the best book I’ve ever read”, and “this is a masterpiece” (I’m only slightly paraphrasing here), and an average rating—as of today—of 4.15 on Goodreads, with a total of 25,596 ratings. That’s extremely high, in case I haven’t stressed this point enough.
And, once again, I didn’t love it. Like so many other universally well-loved books before it.
Far from it, actually.
Which can mean only two things:
1. ) I simply hate books, or
2.) I’m a very critical reader.
Personally, I identify much more with the latter assertion, because obviously, I love books. I mean, I created a blog dedicated to books! (And if you still don’t believe me, here are some books that I love with my entire heart and soul:)
“Then why do you mostly give out two star ratings, and always seem to find something to criticize about the books you read?” I can hear you collectively scream at me (in the most loving way, of course).
To be honest, I don’t have a satisfying answer to that question. [Cues the soundtrack of me singing “I will never be satisfied” in my most Angelica-like voice. 🎶]
What I do know, however, is that my book ratings don’t have anything to do with whether or not I love books. I may enjoy, or even love, fewer books compared to the average reader, but that doesn’t change the fact that I love reading—and that I most definitely do not hate books.
[Insert GIF of me letting out a sigh of relief.]
(As opposed to one in which I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding … 😉)
Do you ever doubt your judgement of books?
Are you usually in the minority or the majority, when it comes to bookish opinions?
Do you ever feel like you’re too critical, or not critical enough?
[Please tell me that I’m not alone in my exasperation, when it comes to rating books??]
(Do any of you wish Goodreads would introduce ½ ratings as well?)