"No offense, but...I really didn't like this book." A member of my book club began our discussion in this way, looking apologetically at our meeting's host, who also happened to have chosen the book.
"Me either," another member said. Heads began to nod around the room, and in a matter of seconds I saw our host's expression go from confusion ("What do you mean you didn't like this book?") to realization ("You guys didn't like this book?") to contempt ("Well, I guess it's not for everyone"), slipping finally into a calm, diplomatic pose of resignation. I swear I saw a quick flash of white hot rage in her eyes creep up somewhere along the way, and I wanted to cry out in support ("Acutally, I loved the book!") but I too, didn't really like this book. The night wore on, our host became even more aggitated as she unsuccessfully tried to defend her choice, praising the author's writing style and citing deseratly from rave reviews in reputable magazines. People still didn't like the book, and the host took it personally.
It got me thinking—how can you not take it personally? You love a book, it resonates with you, and you want to tell the world about it. Once you endorse the book, it kind of becomes an extension of yourself. And then if people hate it, well, what does that say about you? About their thoughts on your literary taste? It's tricky.
The same could be said for a restaurant recommendation, or a great many other things, I suppose. But when it comes to a book (for ardent book lovers particularly), it's deeply personal.
What do you think? Have you recommended a book only to have someone tear it down?
image via moriza
