At some point in the history of humanity, I – Sabbatical Jaer – achieved the everlasting honour of being the nation’s #2 most popular book reviewer. Even though the details are a bit fuzzy, the feelings of pride are deeply etched into my heart.

It was an achievement of monumental proportions.

Now I know that some of you might be a bit skeptical. Jaer? A book reviewer? Is he being serious? Can he even read?

Yes, I can read. And no, this is not a joke.

Okay, full disclosure: the nation I’m talking about is Malta, a micro-state with only half a million inhabitants. It barely has enough book reviewers to fill a top 100 list. Maybe that makes it a little less impressive than becoming the best reviewer of the USA, or Russia, but it still counts!

So is the title of this article a tad bit over-dramatic? Well… yes… but why miss the chance to revel in some grandiose self-indulgence?

There was a brief moment in time during the four years I lived in Malta, when my book reviews on Goodreads (the world’s largest online book forum) had gathered enough ‘likes’ to make me the country’s second most popular book reviewer.

The point of this article however, is not (merely) to toot my own horn. The grand statement in the title is just a lure – cast into the pond to lure you in.

What I really want to talk about is the importance of writing reviews.

You see: without the habit of writing a review after every book I read, I would never have been able to crown myself the nation’s #2 book reviewer. So let’s dive into the reason why I write these reviews.

On the importance of writing reviews

The real reason I write reviews is simple: they help me understand and remember what I read. As many writers have remarked before; the act of writing is not simply the materialisation of thought, it is the medium of thought.

Writing is not what follows research, learning or studying, it is the medium of all this work.

Sönke Ahrens

Here’s an example to illustrate that: I just finished reading a book and my gut reaction is: ‘Darn it, that book really sucked.’ I probably have a lot of reasons for that opinion circling around in my mind; certain sentences that gave me the ick, perhaps I got bored halfway through the book, or maybe I simply hated the name of the main character.

But then the reviewing process starts. I collect my notes and I grab my book review template. This template is a simple list of questions, very similar to the sort of questions you had to answer for a high school book presentation. I’ve attached it to the bottom of this article.

Going through this list helps my thoughts to crystalise. The sentences that initially gave me the ick, now make sense to me, because I can see how they relate to the other stylistic elements of the book.

This might sound a bit dubious to some. If I didn’t appreciate the sentence when I first read it, why would I change my opinion about it later? Isn’t that being dishonest to my reading experience?

I can see why you might think that, but I also think we should disregard that romantic view of reading. Yes, it’s romantic to think of your initial emotion as the true emotion, but what you’re forgetting is that your emotional response is shaped by many contributing factors. What those factors are? Well, that’s for you to uncover. But it is this process of uncovering the reasons – the why – that gives us true insight.

Were I not to follow the review template, I might fall into the trap of reviewing a book based on my emotions or my mood for that day.

Once I’ve gone through those steps, I’ve mulled over the contents of the book at least four times. Once when I first read it, then when I collected my notes, when I went through the review questions, and finally when I penned down my review. The repetition helps me to remember and solidify the highlights in my head.

Repetitio est mater studiorum

My grandfather, headmaster Jos Mertens’ favourite phrase

When I don’t write a review

Sometimes I don’t feel like writing a review for a book and I always regret that afterwards. Because there inevitably comes a time in the future when I will refer to this book and people will ask: ‘What did you think of it?’ And then I can’t go any further than mumbling something like: ‘Yeah, I believe I thought it was a good book.’ Or: ‘There was something about it that I really like.’ Or even worse: ‘It was just written so well!’

It was written so well?

What the hell?? What sort of barbaric, uninformative mumbo-jumbo is that? It is devoid of any meaning. No-one benefits from such an empty statement and thus it should never be materialised from my lips.

In order to avoid any such embarrassments, I try to write semi-alright reviews that capture my reading experience, my understanding of the book, and my opinion.

The development of taste

Another advantage of writing book reviews is that you develop taste – an understanding of what makes art, good art.

Bit by bit, review by review, you uncover the inner mechanics of books. By doing this time and time again, you eventually get a better understanding of what you believe to be a good book.

Now of course, there are a few problems with the notion of taste. First of all, the development of taste might create an unjust expectation that you are working towards a pure and universal knowledge of good and bad.

Even though I’m charmed by this idea of universal truths, I’m also quite skeptical of its existence. A more accepted contemporary theory would be Bourdieu’s idea of taste as a medium of social distinction. Taste as a product of your education, your upbringing, your values—your cultural capital and habitus.

This theory sheds a different light on the idea of developing taste. The act of refining your taste might not mean that you are growing a better understanding of the Platonic concept of a good book. Instead it might just mean that you’re learning to speak the cultural language of a different social class. Good and bad books in that sense only mean accepted books or unacceptable books.

Whether you see taste as universal or socially constructed, the ability to examine your preferences—warts, biases, and all—is a skill worth cultivating. It extends beyond the realm of books and can be applied to every facet of your life.

And besides that, it’s a great way to sound terribly snobbish at dinner parties.

So on the off chance that you enjoy going to dinner parties to declare that the new #1 New York Times bestseller is just a filthy pile of rubbish – then by all means, join me in this noble pursuit of well-argued snobbery.

And who knows—if you really commit, you might just become the #2 book reviewer of a micro-state too.

My review template & strategy

  • Plot
    • What is the main conflict?
    • What are the main events?
    • What is the order of the events?
    • Is the order of events significant?
  • Setting
    • Relevance of time/age?
    • Relevance of location/change of location?
    • Does the author intentionally bring forth any social or cultural contexts to aid their purpose?
  • Characters
    • How do the characters change throughout the story? What caused or provoked this change?
    • Who is the protagonist? Antagonist?
  • Point of view
    • What is the point of view?
    • Why do you think the author chose to write in this perspective?
    • What does this specific perspective add/take away from the story?
  • Style
    • How does the format of the text affect the overall piece?
    • Does the word choice play a role in the understanding/interpretation of the text? Are simple, plain words used, or does the writer use higher, more elevated language
  • Figurative language
    • Where and how are metaphors, similes, symbols, etc. used in the story? What are their purposes in the overall functionality of the text?
    • Why did the author choose to use these specific examples of figurative language?
  • Authors purpose
    • What is the author trying to accomplish?