Thursday, June 14, 2012


Reviews. I just haven't figured out why anyone would worry about them. Human reaction to every form of creative endeavor is so visceral, so personal, I cannot understand our fascination with the reviews submitted by total strangers.

Every possible artistic creation resonates differently by the individual. One person looks at a painting and loves it. The next is left totally cold by the artist's vision. Neither is wrong.

Music, art, the written word, movies and plays, all resonate for humans at different levels. Reviews are simply opinions stated by individuals. Some are stated more publicly than others, but that doesn't add value to the opinion.

Value can only be conferred by me. If I trust another person's judgment, then I give it extra weight and respect. How can I possibly confer value on an opinion offered by someone unknown to me?

Recently, I read a list of reviews for a book I particularly enjoyed--so much so that I've read it several times. The reviews ranged from hated it, did not finish to loved it, this is on my keeper shelf to everything in between.

When I finished the last post, I finally accepted the truth about reviews. Each one is an opinion--valid, but of no particular value--unless I allow it to have value. As my friend, Amarinda Jones, observes, "Everyone has an opinion."



  1. One of life's most important lessons. That and Amarinda is super smart and she don't take no shit from anyone.