I've positively reviewed Patricia Cornwell in the past, in The Detroit Free Press and elsewhere, but when I had negative things to say about one of her books, some of her fans accused me of being jealous.
OK, I have a confession. It's, like, 100 percent true, since she sells more books than I ever will.
You know what else? It's true of all book reviewers. There's no other reason to write a bad review unless it's personal.
If we say anything bad about a book, it's because we're jealous, or because the author pissed us off somehow. Maybe the author ignored us at a cocktail party. Maybe the author is an ex-. Maybe the author reviewed us badly if we write, too, or trashed a friend's book. Whatever, payback is a bitch.
The reverse is true, of course. You think good reviews are related to quality? Get real! Think swag. Me, I love getting high-end electronics, spa days, and of course, the promise of a great review in return. There are also informal deals where you promise to review a series well and then the gifts mount up. And then there's serious booty. I mean the other kind. Like a week at an all-inclusive Caribbean resort.
That's how this shit gets done.
So all you indie authors who bitch about not getting reviewed? Suck on it. You'll never break into the system. It's too late for you. There's no room at the inn. Which has a killer view and a sick wine list.