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Last week a young friend, Euan, who reviews books for a prestigious literary journal, told me he felt ‘gagged' into giving a book a decent review because the author worked for the magazine. He said there is a lot of ‘you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours' in the world of book reviewing, and in this sense it's a ‘closed shop.' I've often wondered if Anna Karenina would receive a decent review these days, chortled the Countess du Ruel, if Tolstoy wasn't networking the ‘in' crowd. The ‘in crowd' means the darlings of The Spectator, The Week, and the broadsheet supplements. The Daily Telegraph and the Evening Standard are very important.

I like to think that reviewers are unbiased academics, journalists, philosophers, booksellers, teachers, etc, who are widely read. Also, one hopes that a lot of thought goes into matching the book to the reviewer. However, I understand that in this cost-cutting world, there is a crisis on the book pages, and literary editors are being slashed and book pages reduced. The emphasis is on who will write the review for nothing or next to. Far too often it seems that authors and book reviewers belong to an exclusive clique, and if you don't belong you have little hope of being reviewed.
However, at the other end of the spectrum is the recent furore over the New York Times review by Caleb Crain of Alain de Botton's new book, The Pleasure and Sorrows of Work. De Botton, an author and philosopher, is not accustomed to being bad mouthed in print. He lost his temper during a posting on Crain's blog, Steamboats Are Ruining Everything. His response went like this: ‘I genuinely hope that you will find yourself on the receiving end of such a daft review sometimes very soon....You have now killed my book in the US, etc.' He finishes, ‘I will hate you till the day I die and wish you nothing but ill will in every career move you make.' Wow! Hell hath no fury like a writer scorned!
Apparently, the book has received mixed reviews in Britain, with Naomi Wolf writing in The Times that she was ‘ready to hurl it across the room' after 40 pages.
Reviews are not there to sell books. They should inform, amuse and provide objective criticism. Book pages should not be marketing tools. Reviews are very important to the author, whether or not they sell his books. However, there's no denying we're influenced by the books that receive attention. I read the Literary Review from cover to cover, and I find I am influenced by these opinions. A real stinker will put me off, and a well thought out recommendation will inspire me to buy.
Recently, I read a review of Stefan Zweig's Beware of Pity. I might have missed out in reading this masterpiece otherwise. I am extremely grateful to the LR for introducing this author. The LR seems genuinely interested in promoting quality literature. Zweig's been dead since the 40s, so there's no need to scratch his back.
At least the Alain de Botton affair is more interesting than the ‘in crowd' praise. There's genuine emotion in the review and the response, and certainly no flattery intended. This is a relief from the Richard and Judy and Ophra Wimprey book promotion and sales pitch. At least some reviewers are willing to call a spade a spade.

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