As a freelance writer, my professional experience is limited; besides penning six novels (the seventh is currently in the works) I’ve only been reviewing books for a ‘real’ publication for five months. Before that, my expertise was limited to posting blogs on a handful of literature-inclined websites. Upon being hired as a serious reviewer, I felt eager to read as many books as possible; getting free books hot off the press adds to the ‘mystique’ of this, particular industry.

The age-old perceptions of ‘critics’ yet appears to hold true: an elite group of hallowed citizens, whose opinion is sought out by magazines and newspapers nationwide. As appealing the idea of becoming one of ‘them’ someday, I cannot forget what it feels like to receive criticism of your own hard work. A step back when reading any given piece is therefore necessary, to evaluate not only the first impression of the prose but also to hold up the goggles of creativity, to strive to see what the writer(s) meant to write. Thus, as I am reading a certain kind of mutual respect wells up within me, vying with matched force the more critical aspect of the job. The human eyelid is adept at changing perception, however; with each blink my mind’s eye travels back and forth between writer and critic. This almost yin-and-yang struggle produces a unique form of literary stress; where most read for pure pleasure or learning, the reviewer must read with squinted, hawk-like eyes, always vigilant for glaring mistakes, yet all the while striving to enjoy the book as a reader would.

I recently read an encouraging perspective on the issue of creativity VS criticism, one which re-buoyed my enthusiasm for reviewing more books; it came in the form of a prologue for a book I am reviewing for the upcoming August publication. The writer weighed critics against writers and came across so well in his prose that I was immediately at ease and able to soak in his arguments. The main premise put forth was that writers made the best critics, as they understood the anguish and sweat that goes into each beloved piece and feel passion for writing in general, unable to flippantly dismiss a piece without really looking at it… or at least finding something good to say about it.

As one-sided as his– or my own–opinion would be as a writer, reading the few lines on the subject once again affirmed in my mind the responsibility of a reviewer: to give an impression without cruelty, balanced with prior pieces read and bearing in mind the classic pieces of the ages and yet, never forgetting to return to viewing a piece with an inquisitive reader’s eye.