A Question of Rating
I've been thinking a bit about the purpose and meaning of rating a book. What information does it give a reader? What information do I intend for it to give a reader? The answer to the latter is simple--it should tell a person reading a review how much I enjoyed this book relative to other books. But enjoyment is such a complex of things, that even such a simple concept becomes fuddled. Let's take for example The Sun Also Rises and a book I reviewed here today Broccoli and Other Tales of Love and Food. Let's say that I gave both of these books a 4-star rating. What would that indicate? It would suggest that I "enjoyed" both books a great deal and would consider recommending them to readers. But to say that I enjoyed them both begs the question. I enjoyed The Sun Also Rises in a very different way than I enjoyed Broccoli. While more than a toss-off light read, Broccoli did not demand from me or engage me in the way that The Sun Also Rises did. I did not have to use a tremendous amount of critical acumen or my semi-developed reader's brain to make my way through Broccoli. On the other hand, Hemingway's book was surprisingly demanding for being so easy to read. So, what does a 4 in each case mean. It is a subjective way of saying that in books of a similar class I enjoyed each of these to a level of 4. So comparing Hemingway to Virginia Woolf, James Joyce, or William Faulkner, I found that he was not so enjoyable as they were, but nevertheless, a really good and satisfying read. Likewise for Broccoli.
Another important point about rating--until people start paying me and giving me books to review here, it is unlikely that I'm going to waste my time reviewing or discussing a book that I would give a 3 or below to. In fact, many books that merit a 4 are not likely to receive any more discussion than a listing in the side column that indicates that I've read them. That isn't to say that they aren't worth reading, but that having read them, I found nothing worthwhile to add to them--I had neither insights nor critical comments that would add anything to the simple rating given.
So, I have talked myself into understanding that my rating system has no real utility or meaning. What is it then, that I can indicate in a short-hand that would be helpful to a reader. I know when I read reviews in other places one of the things I want to know is where does this fall in the literary world? With modern books it's hard to say, but is the writer positioning themselves as canon-worthy, are they in the position of delivering serviceable serious fiction as entertainment, are they purveyors of light fiction? Where does the author fall in the ranks of the eternal? Tomorrow's remaindered bestseller, or tops on the next century's required for college lists? Also a subjective measure and evaluation. But as I dig up more and more books to read, I find I have less and less time for those that promise light entertainment. There is certainly no problem with light entertainment, I enjoy such books. But my enjoyment of them pales with the triumph of reading The Golden Bowl or Absalom, Absalom!
Perhaps then, as an abstract system of indicating enjoyment, it is sufficient to indicate a few stars and let it be--leave it to the reader to discern what those stars mean and whether the system is efficient for them. But caveat lector: there is perhaps no system more pervasively shaped by its errors and subjectivity than my rating system. Tread carefully and gauge your reactions against my own and see how compatible we are as readers--then you'll know if my rating system can help you. Or perhaps more precisely, how my rating system can help. Perhaps in the halls of eternal we are BBF, but in light reads we're double zero--at least then you'll know. He likes it, it's light--stay away. He likes it, it's heavy, maybe I should take a look.
Another important point about rating--until people start paying me and giving me books to review here, it is unlikely that I'm going to waste my time reviewing or discussing a book that I would give a 3 or below to. In fact, many books that merit a 4 are not likely to receive any more discussion than a listing in the side column that indicates that I've read them. That isn't to say that they aren't worth reading, but that having read them, I found nothing worthwhile to add to them--I had neither insights nor critical comments that would add anything to the simple rating given.
So, I have talked myself into understanding that my rating system has no real utility or meaning. What is it then, that I can indicate in a short-hand that would be helpful to a reader. I know when I read reviews in other places one of the things I want to know is where does this fall in the literary world? With modern books it's hard to say, but is the writer positioning themselves as canon-worthy, are they in the position of delivering serviceable serious fiction as entertainment, are they purveyors of light fiction? Where does the author fall in the ranks of the eternal? Tomorrow's remaindered bestseller, or tops on the next century's required for college lists? Also a subjective measure and evaluation. But as I dig up more and more books to read, I find I have less and less time for those that promise light entertainment. There is certainly no problem with light entertainment, I enjoy such books. But my enjoyment of them pales with the triumph of reading The Golden Bowl or Absalom, Absalom!
Perhaps then, as an abstract system of indicating enjoyment, it is sufficient to indicate a few stars and let it be--leave it to the reader to discern what those stars mean and whether the system is efficient for them. But caveat lector: there is perhaps no system more pervasively shaped by its errors and subjectivity than my rating system. Tread carefully and gauge your reactions against my own and see how compatible we are as readers--then you'll know if my rating system can help you. Or perhaps more precisely, how my rating system can help. Perhaps in the halls of eternal we are BBF, but in light reads we're double zero--at least then you'll know. He likes it, it's light--stay away. He likes it, it's heavy, maybe I should take a look.
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