23/01/2026

Wishing Upon a Star: How To Interpret a Bad Review

I recently noticed that I had obtained my first bad review from one AlexN in October last year, who granted a single star. The individual also commented, “Unnecessarily wordy which made it a slog to get through.” While I wonder about the mentality of a person prepared to give a worst possible score over a stylistic disagreement, I must thank AlexN for finally providing the impetus to write about how a published writer may interpret the star ratings granted by their readers.

The five-star rating system is well known. It provides the first five positive natural numbers of which any can be selected to evaluate the quality of a product or service. On some parts of its website, Goodreads provides vernacular interpretations of each rating; 1 means ‘did not like it’, 2 means ‘it was ok’, 3 means ‘liked it’, 4 means ‘really liked it’, and 5 means ‘it was amazing’. We can clearly see that the rating giver is assumed to be making a statement about their subjective experience of the thing or experience they paid for (or otherwise obtained).

The evaluative tool is designed to collect data from a large number of purchasers, from which the mean can be calculated and shown to future shoppers. If the central tendency of the set of star ratings is not enough, you can usually click a link to see how many reviewers selected each of the five ratings as well as any qualitative feedback, such as AlexN’s above.

In general, however, one searches for a desired thing, several items fitting the search criteria are shown, and the mean star rating for each is shown. Despite what we know to be the source of this datum, it is all too easy - in my opinion - to read the number as an objective measure of the quality of the thing for sale. One can feel positively squeamish about purchasing an item despite costing several currency units less if we find that its mean rating is, say, 0.6 stars less than that of the more expensive item. Why? Because, in something like Goodreads’ parlance, it’s ‘not as good’. Yet consider the case of my debut novel Glassworld: Out of the Darkness, which had obtained an average score of 4.8 with five reviews, and this dropped 0.6 stars to 4.2 as the result of a single low score.

Returning to the data, it is quite surprising to discover that a process can begin with an enquiry along the lines of ‘What did you think of this?’ and somehow transform the response into a number which appears to represent ‘This is how good this is’. I suppose the idea is that all opinions are basically equal, and that an objective composite or meta-opinion can be created using basic arithmetic. (Though, I should add that A****n modifies the value of a star rating based on how recent it was or how ‘trustworthy’ the online store considers the rating to be, so the above arithmetic was not duplicated exactly online.)

However, I don’t think this is defensible in the case of a book.

Perhaps, in the case of distinct manufactured goods whose actual conditions can vary based on the quality of their individual components and the expertise used to assemble them, store them and carry them to their destinations, the reviewer makes something more like an objective assessment of the product. In that case, analysing the ratings and their distribution may give us useful information about the probability that our purchase would arrive intact.

But a book, aside from any issues with the production quality or manner of carriage, is not like this. In the vast majority of cases, there is no discernible difference between my 2004 copy of Alice Walker’s The Color Purple and yours. Therefore, any difference in our evaluation of that work cannot be objective, or else we would both simply give it five stars to show that it had been printed, bound and delivered using effective methods, or less if otherwise.

Indeed, it may be because multi-department online shops feature electronic and mechanical goods alongside printed works using the same review system that we are so easily confused by their meaning. In any case, I wish to present my own system for understanding the user-provided feedback in such cases where production quality is probably not what is being evaluated. This may be of use to writers or purchasers of books.

I suggest that, instead of considering a star-rating to be either a subjective or objective review of the book, that it be the reader’s subjective review of themselves, specifically where they lie within the natural audience of the work. Thus, with apologies to Goodreads, 5 means ‘I am at the centre of the intended audience for this work’, 4 means ‘I am well within the intended audience for this work’, 3 means ‘I am on the border of the intended audience for this work’, 2 means ‘I am outside the intended audience for this work’ and 1 means ‘I am well outside the intended audience for this work’. I believe this is a reasonable interpretation because the quality of the text itself cannot change from one reader to the next, but the readers themselves can vary wildly in literacy, expectations, hermeneutics, interests, reading history, and so on.

The immediate value of this interpretation is that none of the ratings speak directly about the quality of the text, so none of them are directly critical of it. What they do is collectively build up an image of how well the book is reaching its intended audience and whether it is being promoted beyond that audience or not. This immediately creates some interesting results. For example, under the objective result system, a score of 5.0 is a perfect score. Under the reader-self-evaluation system, it implies that the book has had very little reach beyond precisely the kind of person the writer or marketing department had in mind for it. Whereas a spread of scores that encompasses some 5s, plenty of 4s, lots of 3s, some 2s and a handful of 1s suggests that the book has enjoyed a healthy reception across a diverse audience.

It should be noted that the score is retrospective upon (presumably) finishing the book. A reader who initially doubted the book might not be for them but were ultimately charmed by it might give it a 4 or even a 5-star rating, and vice versa; a reader who thought they loved that kind of thing but were ultimately disappointed might give it a lower score. Unfortunately or otherwise, the system will not speak of such conversions as readers do not say what score they think they will give the book before reading it.

In conclusion, my book, which now enjoys four 5-star reviews, one 4-star review and one 1-star review, has until now been struggling to emerge from the very heart of its audience, but has at last met someone from outside the warm appreciation of that beloved group. This is all well and good for Glassworld. The novel was written to change hearts and minds, and it may well be that readers like AlexN, who “slog” through my book but nevertheless do finish it, are precisely the unconverted to whom I most wish to preach.

So, one star reviews? Bring ‘em on! The more, the better!

Talking About Yourself in the Third Person

I was asked a question recently, which I paraphrase here, "Why is it easier for Sam to modify their behaviour when they say 'Sam doesn't do that sort of thing?'" Here is my answer:

I suppose you mean it is easier than if you had made the equivalent statement in the first person as well as if you hadn't made the statement at all.

If so, we should consider the difference between Sam saying to themselves, 'I don't eat a whole packet of biscuits in one go' and their saying, 'Sam doesn't eat a whole packet of biscuits in one go'.

I can't help seeing an externalisation of will taking place akin to the Feng Shui practice of imagining a royal dragon as your guest and trying to make your home appealing to them. Jo might be prepared to live in a dark, squalid, cluttered home but not be able to assume that such an honoured and noble invitee would wish to enter a home in such a state. Even so, it is Jo who makes the judgements that lead to the two markedly different presentations of their home.

In Sam's case, the assertion in the first person might collapse because they know that they bloody well did pig the lot only two nights ago. By contrast, the same assertion in the third person creates somebody called 'Sam' in Sam's mind. 'Sam' cannot be the same 'Sam' - from Sam's perspective - that is denoted by the perpendicular pronoun a) because 'I' has a unique self-intimacy and b) because anyone addressed in the third person is not 'me' and not 'you'. They are outside the conversation and not directly addressable. They are a person, and a whole person, apart and separate from anybody in this exchange. They have their rights and views and Sam cannot presume to modify them in their narrow self-interest.

But a trick is being played by Sam upon themselves because this 'Sam' really is Sam, what 'Sam' wants really is what Sam wants, and - crucially - what 'Sam' doesn't do really is what Sam doesn't do.

So Sam, in an existential sense, gets to have their cake and eat it (but still not the biscuits). They be themselves, they create an alternative persona with a better ethical code than they've got, and then they realign the two like a car joining a motorway from a slip road, without actually allowing the whole system to collapse into the 'I' whose ethical consistency can be overturned by basic gluttony.

It is more subtle than the dragon method, due to the linguistic prestidigitation involved, but it's fundamentally the same mental process.

17/01/2026

A Thousand Leagues Away

Why can I never find the words to say,
as you hold my dreams and them defend,
I feel you a thousand leagues away?

The thought of you is many-hued ray,
and your warmth floods my own dark blood.
Why can I never find the words to say?

I can find you in the green and grey
of moss and slate; I know my friend,
and I feel you a thousand leagues away.

That's where I left you anyway.
It broke my heart to tear these continents apart.
Why can I never find the words to say

that, though we frolicked in a meadow and were gay,
to build a castle, my left slipped your right hand,
and now I feel you a thousand leagues away?

I made the night time to separate the days,
and, seeing how I do not sleep, you somehow understand
why I can never find the words to say
that I feel you a thousand leagues away.

06/01/2026

Looking for My Name

I'm looking for my name.
Have you seen it?

It cannot be
a sound invented
by someone else
before I could speak
because your name is invented 
only by you.

Nor can it be
a sound copied
from man to child
across so many centuries
nobody really knows
where it came from
because I know
where my name comes from.

It comes from
the deepest part of me,
deep and dark and wet,
where muscles pound
and light is myth.

It comes from
the tenderest part of me,
which I'm afraid to touch
in case I feel
the flickering of eyelashes
magnified by a million.

It comes from
the youngest part of me,
as young as the unborn future,
so young
it is coming into being
forever.

So I know where my name comes from,
but that doesn't help me know
where it is.

It's in an unnamed place
as layered as road
as hidden as hurt
as alive as magma.

And when I find it,
I will carry it to the Sun
in the East,
hold it up
in my two hands
and blow.

03/01/2026

I Prefer Not To

My last eleven e-mails
were from a string of corps
requesting valuation of
how they do their work.

At first it was amusing
to dish out random scores
but now they've got me wondering,
"What is this all for?"

First of all I paid them.
I assumed that was enough,
but now they've come abegging
for written notes of love.

I fear they won't be happy
until I've scored them all,
but how'd it come to me
to fill the vacuum in their souls?

As I look upon the world
and fail to place the blame,
I return to one solution
to which I'm hooked like crack cocaine.

I will write a poem,
a lovely little poem,
and fill it with my 'wisdom',
and hope it keeps me going.

But this one really means it,
so you'd better pay attention.
I can't be held responsible
for your personal redemption.

Listen up and listen good
'cos I will not say this twice.
The thing you did or stuff you sent,
basically sufficed.

It must have been acceptable,
arriving timely and intact.
If your product had been terrible,
I would've sent it back.

As to excellence or greatness,
thereof I cannot speak.
It seems to be a lofty goal
unless, of course, you've peaked.

Yet I guess your need is shallower
than I have yet supposed.
What you really want is evidence
that you've outperformed your foes.

But I will not play enabler
to your increased market share
so kindly gather up your e-mails,
and GET THE F*CK OUT OF HERE!

Wishing Upon a Star: How To Interpret a Bad Review

I recently noticed that I had obtained my first bad review from one AlexN in October last year, who granted a single star. The individual al...