June 11th, 2009

Many books get bad reviews. I’ve had more than my share of bad reviews and although I do not think there is any up side to reading them I wouldn’t deny a critics right to express his opinion. Over the last few years however it seems that reviewers have gone beyond critiquing the work and ventured into personal attacks. One reviewer suggested I should “consider a career change and become a mortician.” One said “she should stick to comedy writing.” Author Brendan Behan once wrote, “Critics are like eunuchs in a harem; they know how it’s done, they’ve seen it done every day, but they’re unable to do it themselves.” All that being said, I don’t mind the good reviews. I eagerly lap up a glowing response. Lord Byron told his editor to “send him no more reviews of any kind.” “I will read no more of evil or good in that line.” I’d like to be able to do that, but I know I can’t. I take praise like a greedy boy takes an apple and I’ll keep coming back for more. Over the last few days I’ve been smacked around quite a bit verbally by people who haven’t even read Thunder Over the Prairie. The shots have been hurtful, inaccurate, and unfair. But if I dismiss the bad mannered, egotistical ramblings of the self-proclaimed Old West historians who believe great legendary men like Wyatt Earp need the likes of them to dismiss actual newspaper accounts of his actions – I’d have to throw out the nice comments the work has received from people who enjoyed the read and I’m not going to that.