How to Prepare for an Author Interview: Research, Questions and Etiquette
A practical guide to preparing for an author interview: reading the backlist, writing open questions,...
You finish a book at half past midnight, still annoyed about chapter nineteen, and you want to tell someone. That impulse is the whole reason book reviews exist. But there is a gap between telling a friend how you feel and writing something that helps a stranger decide whether to spend their money and their evenings on the same book. Closing that gap does not require a literature degree. It requires a bit of method.
The checklist below is what I would hand to anyone writing their first reviews, whether for a blog, a bookshop newsletter, a reading group or a shop listing. It is not a formula for blandness. A fair review can be sharp, funny and firmly negative. It just needs to be useful as well as honest.
Before you judge a book, work out its job description. A comic crime caper and a slow family saga are playing different games, and measuring one by the other's rules produces a review that says more about the reviewer than the book. Ask yourself three questions:
That third question is where the real reviewing happens. "I did not enjoy it" is a fact about you. "This is a thriller that keeps its tension by withholding too much, so the ending feels unearned" is a fact about the book, and far more useful to the person reading your review.
Spoilers are the fastest way to lose a reader's trust. The line is not always obvious, though. A plot twist is a spoiler; a book's structure usually is not.
So describe the set-up, not the resolution. Explain the premise, the central tension, the world, the voice, and what kind of experience a reader is signing up for. If a detail only lands its full effect once you know it in advance, leave it out: deaths, reveals, hidden identities, the last chapter's emotional payoff.
Two exceptions are worth knowing. If a book's marketing promises something it does not deliver, say so plainly — that protects readers. And if content could genuinely distress someone, a short, unembellished note is fair: graphic violence, child endangerment, on-page self-harm. Keep it factual and brief. You are not writing a trigger list; you are giving readers enough to make their own choice.
Every judgement you make should come with evidence attached. Not a lecture — a sentence or two showing how you got there.
Compare these:
I found the middle section slow.
The middle third follows a single journey across three chapters, and without a second viewpoint or a change of scene the pace drops sharply.
The second one lets readers disagree productively. Someone who loves slow, interior writing will read it and think: that sounds ideal. That is a good outcome. A review is not a persuasion exercise; it is a signpost.
Try the editorial trick of separating reaction from analysis. Reaction: it made me laugh, I was bored, I cried on the bus. Analysis: why the humour worked, where the pacing slipped, which scene did the heavy lifting. Both belong in a review, but mixing them without marking the difference leaves readers unsure whether they are hearing about the book or about your week.
You do not have to read a genre constantly to review it well, but be honest about your footing. "I read very little historical romance, so I may be missing conventions regular readers expect" is not a weakness. It is useful context.
The same applies to books in translation. Judge the prose you actually read, and note that you are reading a translation if the style feels distinctive, good or bad. Do not assign the translator's work to the author without thinking about it.
For non-fiction, check where claims come from before repeating them as fact. If a book makes a striking assertion with no sourcing, that is a legitimate point for review. And if it offers health, financial or legal guidance, say clearly that it is a book, not professional advice, and that readers should consult a qualified practitioner about their own circumstances.
Run those seven questions over a draft and most weak reviews improve immediately.
If you use a star rating, decide what it means and stick to it. A workable approach is to rate the book against its own aims and its intended audience, not against every book ever written. A solid, well-made genre novel can be four stars without being Middlemarch.
Say what the rating covers. Does three stars mean "fine but forgettable" or "worth reading with reservations"? Readers cannot guess, and inconsistency across your own reviews is the quickest way to make ratings meaningless. If a number feels too blunt for a particular book, leave it off, or explain the score in one line.
The test of a fair review is simple: it should leave a reader better equipped to decide, whether or not they agree with you.
So be specific. Quote a line if it shows what you mean. Name the chapter where the pace sags, or the character who carries the whole book. Say who should read it and who should not bother. Keep the spoilers out, keep the reasons in, and accept that a mixed review — three things that worked, two that did not — is often the most honest kind there is.
Then write the next one. Reviewing is a craft, and like most crafts it rewards repetition more than inspiration. Your tenth review will be sharper than your first, and by then a few readers will be waiting for it.
Photo: Arina Krasnikova / Pexels
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