Monday, February 13, 2012

Literary Blog Hop

It's always been my theory that criticism is really just veiled autobiography; whenever someone writes about a piece of art, they're really just writing about themselves  Chuck Klosterman

Do you agree?

I completely agree with this, and I don't think anyone can write an entirely objective review as everything that is read is subjective.  No one person will read or interpret something the same way, therefore multiple meanings will always be inherent.  For example, if you are reading something that say contains vampires, your idea of vampires may come from the series Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  You may expect all vampires that are staked to turn into dust, and if they don't you may be vaguely disappointed.  This vague disappointment may manifest into feeling a little disappointed in what you are reading.

Therefore the 'I' in reviewing is important to me, as I'm not going to make any bones that what I am reviewing or writing about is not going to be subjective.  It could be as little as it being a book that I own as opposed to a library book.  What stage in life I am in.  A book that I may have read as a teenager will be a completely different book to me if I read it now.  All this comes into play and influences the way you read.  And there's no right or wrong way of doing this either.

Maybe what could be more important is consistency.  That is, are you consistent with what you like and write about?  In this regard, if you have someone following your reviews, they may do so because they find they have a like-minded interest in what you read too.  So books you may have read or suggest could be something they will like also.

This question was brought to us by The Blue Bookcase, host of Literary Blog Hop.  By the way, what a great question this month!

Saturday, February 04, 2012

Theme Thursday

Theme Thursdays is a fun weekly event hosted by Reading between the pages.

This week's theme: SEE
Wink, Vision, Roll etc.

Getting my balance, I stare at a man who has opened the door to a cabin on the other side of the corridor.  The footsteps I heard were his.  He stares back.
The illusion of murder, Carol McCleary.
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