Sonia Faleiro

Find out by reading this superb piece.

I've tried for years, but never succeeded to do well in this area. When I joined India Today in my early twenties, I was assigned the job of a sub editor on the International desk. My boss was loud, Draconian, and smelt of spirits. I was depressed and had decided to quit, when a kind editor put in a good word, and had me also assigned to the books page. There I worked with the Books Editor who allowed me to interview writers and read many good, not to mention expensive books, out of reach of my impoverished young paws, while I was allegedly working. My thanks to both those kind individuals for enabling me to continue my career as a journalist.

In any case, I then thought that all I ever wanted to do as a journalist was read books, review them, attend launches, and at some stage, write many books of my own. Many years have passed, and I can count on my fingers the number of books I have reviewed. Because the bottom line is this: You don't review books merely because you like to read. Or because you want free books, a byline, or an outlet for your creative writing. You do it because you understand the history and context of literature, because if asked to explain even one word of praise or condemnation in your review, you can point to the specific piece of prose in the book being reviewed, to back your statement; and because it's a skill you're continuously sharpening. And you certainly never ever review a book written by a friend. Ever.

Two years ago, when I was interviewing for Tehelka, one of the editors asked me, 'So what do you like to write about?' I answered, 'Books.' She said, 'Uh. Anything else?' I shrugged. 'Yes. Books.' Despite her misgivings, she was kind enough to give me a job, and I'm pleased to say it didn't take me too long to realise my talents lay elsewhere. Which is good, for as long as one knows one strengths and weaknesses, one isn't hurting either one's professional reputation or other people. (This isn't to say, however, that I never review books. I do, when I feel that I can do an adequate job of critiquing it).

When my novel was being reviewed, a few critics were kind enough to give away the ending. Others wrote in such garbled tongue, I couldn't understand a word. Any writer worth his or her salt will tell you this: Sure, we like a good review. And no, we're not crazy about the bad ones. But a poorly written laudatory review, by someone who cannot string a sentence, and who chose the book because the cover was appealing--or something as asinine--will not be taken seriously.

But every once in a while, and there's been a long gap, comes along a reviewer who you wish would review your work. Sadly, when it's the boy next door who is hotfooting it over for meats and cheese, you know it's not going to happen anytime soon.

P.S. Rumour has it, these guys know their Didion from their Donne.