My First Time: Erika Dreifus

My First Time is a regular feature in which writers talk about virgin experiences in their writing and publishing careers, ranging from their first rejection to the moment of holding their first published book in their hands.  Today's guest is Erika Dreifus, author of Quiet Americans--which, as you probably already know, was one of my favorite books of 2011.  Erika, publisher of the free monthly newsletter The Practicing Writer, is a contributing editor for The Writer magazine and for Fiction Writers Review.  She also serves on the editorial board for J Journal: New Writing On Justice.  Visit her website here.

My First Punch-in-the-Gut Review

Ten months elapsed between the release of my first book of fiction—a story collection titled Quiet Americans—and my first encounter with what any reasonable person would call a truly "bad" review thereof.  In this age of Google alerts, that might seem impressive indeed.  But I should admit that my book and I are also late bloomers of sorts.  Part of the extended honeymoon with reviewers is quite possibly due to the fact that none of the major prepub magazines—Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, Kirkus, or Booklist—bothered to write about the book, although review copies and ancillary information went out to them according to their respective guidelines and timetables.  Maybe the combination of an unknown author and a tiny new press (not to mention a short-story collection) was simply too disenchanting.

When the coverage came—frequently on blogs, and not infrequently from people with whom I was at least slightly, if only virtually, acquainted—the tone seemed overwhelmingly positive.  But even on Goodreads, where plenty of readers unfamiliar to me weighed in from the start, 87 percent (to date) rated the book "4" or "5."  Many of these readers went beyond the numerical ratings and offered thoughtful, considered praise, specifying what they saw as the book's strengths (apparently, Quiet Americans contains at least a few).  More than once, I was astonished (and humbled) by the clarity and enthusiasm with which some of these reviewers discerned themes and other elements in my work that even I, the author, had not perceived.

On the other hand, not one of the readers who characterized the book as meriting a "3" offered any comments.  And the explanation for the single "2" rating ("Got amazing reviews on Goodreads, but I'm just lukewarm.  Short read.") lacked sufficient power to inflict anything more than a superficial wound.  In other words, I wasn't prepared for a punch-in-the-gut review.

But that's exactly how it felt to read the latest review, which I discovered thanks to my own hyper-conscientiousness.

Here's what happened: When an editor for a certain (unnamed) publication contacted my publisher for a review copy in November 2010, I was delighted.  I told my publisher that this was great news: The publication, which appears bimonthly, would reach a significant target audience.

Since the press that published Quiet Americans is so small, and since, as a reader, I appreciated the reviewing publication, I assumed the responsibility for checking each new issue to see if a review of Quiet Americans had appeared.

Many months—and several issues—went by.  No review surfaced.

Then, about a year after the request for the review copy, I clicked on over to find the November/December edition posted.  And within it, I found a review that was, in fact, equivalent to a punch in the gut.

I'm going to try to be discreet about this, so I won't quote from the review itself.  But I can tell you that almost none of its 250 words were complimentary.  Factual inaccuracies—yes, you read the plural correctly—exacerbated my dismay.  (I really have a thing about accuracy.  Always have.)  And I struggled mightily to reconcile what other reviewers' had praised as "classic storytell[ing]" and an "effectively unemotional" or "clear, direct style" with this one's strong suggestion that the prose was too straightforward and predominantly linear to be of any literary merit.

Some of the review seemed eccentric as well as harsh.  Perhaps the strangest comment was a forceful sentence deploring what the reviewer perceived as my extensive reliance on a particular verb tense.  (If you have read my collection, and you are thinking that perhaps the reviewer was targeting the use of the present tense in one of these stories, you'd be wrong.)  Finally, there was this icing on the bitter cake—unlike several of her fellow reviewers elsewhere in the issue, who refrained from counseling for or against a purchase, this reviewer displayed no such restraint.

If you should ever find yourself in a situation similar to mine, here's how I suggest you cope:

1.  Email the review to your mother.  Wait for her to email you back, assuring you—just as she did all those years ago in high school—that the person who is being so unkind to you(r book) is "just jealous!"

2.  Email the review to your publisher.  Wait for him to email you back with comforting words (albeit words you won't republish here, just in case this is a family blog).  Appreciate his overall characterization of the review: "grumpy."

3.  Share a copy of the review with an author friend over a meal.  Remember that after she read your book, this friend wrote you one of the nicest unsolicited responses you've received so far.  Laugh—despite yourself and despite your still-aching gut—as you watch her facial expressions while she reads the review.  Agree wholeheartedly with her bewilderment.

4.  Reread all of the other (positive) reviews your book has received.

5.  Reread all of the generous, non-review emails and letters your book has prompted from people you admire.

6.  Google the offending reviewer.  Wonder about the significance of the fact that her uncommon name yields so few returns.  Reconsider your mother's words.  Wonder if maybe this reviewer really is jealous.

Above all (and you knew this was coming, right?)—keep writing.  If you have to, make some lemonade with this particular lemon.  Write about it. Ideally, publish what you write.  But if you're looking for a venue to share your thoughts on "My First Punch-in-the-Gut Review," I'm sorry to say that you'll be the second to address that on The Quivering Pen because I've already beaten you to the punch!

Photo by Lisa Hancock