The reviewer is a singularly detested enemy because he is, unlike the hapless artist, invulnerable.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Unless a reviewer has the courage to give you unqualified praise, I say ignore the bastard.
The best critics do not worry about what the author might think. That would be like a detective worrying about what a suspect might think. Instead, they treat the reader as an intelligent friend, and describe the book as honestly, and as entertainingly, as possible.
A true artist is expected to be all that is noble-minded, and this is not altogether a mistake; on the other hand, however, in what a mean way are critics allowed to pounce upon us.
Reviewers are usually people who would have been, poets, historians, biographer, if they could. They have tried their talents at one thing or another and have failed; therefore they turn critic.
A savage review is much more entertaining for the reader than an admiring one; the little misanthrope in each of us relishes the rubbishing of someone else.
As authors, we all expect criticism from time to time, and we all have our ways of coping with unfriendly reviews.
If you have too good a time writing hostile reviews, you'll injure not only your sensibility but your soul.
It's a disease of critics that once they've labeled someone, it's very hard to change their perspective. It's laziness.
The critic is genius at one remove; he is not unlike an actor on the stage, and incarnates in his mind, as the actor embodies in his person, another's work; only thus does he understand art, realize it, know it; and having arrived at this, his task is done.
The novelist, quite rightly, fears the psychoanalyst as both an enemy and a usurper.
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