I once wrote a review for a book and gave it two stars out of five, only for someone to say to me, “How dare you do that? I wouldn’t be that harsh.” In another situation, at a book club, we read someone’s favourite book. Several of us didn’t enjoy it, and that disappointment was taken very personally — almost as if we’d insulted the person themselves. Moments like these raise an important question: how do we talk about books honestly without being cruel to anyone?
Many of us spend hours wrapped up in a good book. Reading can be an all-consuming, immersive experience — being lost in a story, living inside it as if it were real. When you connect with a book that deeply, hearing someone say they didn’t like it can feel jarring. It can pull you out of that immersion and leave you feeling oddly deflated, as though your taste, your intellect, or even your emotional connection has been dismissed.
But disliking a book is not the same as saying it’s bad. Sometimes you can respect the writing, recognise its strengths, and understand why others love it, while still acknowledging that it simply didn’t work for you. It might not be your genre, your preferred writing style, or the right book for you at that moment, and that’s okay.
When it comes to reviewing books, honesty matters. Even a one- or two-star rating doesn’t have to become author-bashing. A book represents a huge investment of time, effort, and creativity, and that should always be acknowledged. Critique the work, not the writer. Even when an author may be controversial or not universally respected, it’s still possible and important to separate the art from the person who created it.
Book reviews play an essential role in the literary world. For readers, they act as guides, summaries and perspectives that help us decide whether a book might be right for us, especially when the reviewer shares similar tastes. For book clubs and the wider literary community, reviews open the door to deeper discussion about themes, characters, and ideas. For authors, reviews provide visibility, social proof, and honest feedback that can shape future work. Some writers even revisit and revise their books based on reader responses, such as Samantha Shannon rewriting The Bone Season series.
One of the most awkward moments in bookish spaces is when someone says, “This is my favourite book,” and someone else replies, “I didn’t like it.” It can instantly change the atmosphere. But disagreement doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Talking through why you loved or disliked a book can be enlightening for everyone involved. It’s hard not to take these things personally, but it helps to remember: this is about taste, not judgement. Above all, kindness should always come first.
How we frame our opinions makes a huge difference. Saying “this book is boring” can sound like a judgement not only on the book, but on the person who chose it. Reframing that as “for me, the pacing felt a little slow” shows thoughtfulness and leaves room for discussion. A friendly tone and a willingness to listen go a long way in keeping conversations constructive rather than confrontational.
Book clubs should be safe spaces for discussion, places where people who love books come together to share different perspectives. However, group dynamics can sometimes make people feel pressured to agree or stay quiet. That defeats the purpose of a book club entirely. If everyone thought the same thing, the conversation would be incredibly dull. Whether you’re a member or running a club, it’s worth paying attention to those dynamics and ensuring the space doesn’t become exclusive or intimidating.
I’ve experienced this myself. I once admitted to a group that I was struggling with a book, only for the person who chose it to respond, “But it’s my favourite book ever,” and then decide not to attend the meeting because others hinted they weren’t enjoying it either. That left me feeling unable to fully express my opinion, and for a while I found myself staying quiet, waiting to see what others would say first.
Disagreement doesn’t have to feel negative. It can be productive if we approach it with curiosity. Ask people how they reached their conclusions. Ask what they might change, or what stood out to them. Listen. Let multiple opinions exist at once. You might discover something you missed, or see the book in a new light.
When I try to balance honesty with kindness in reviews and discussions, I make a conscious effort never to make things personal toward the author or the reader who loved the book. I often remind people (and myself) that not enjoying one book doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy others by the same author. We don’t always get it right, and that’s okay. Making mistakes and reflecting on them is how we grow as readers and communicators.
When someone loves a book that I didn’t, I try to ask what it was that resonated with them. And when I love a book that someone else didn’t, it’s easy to feel defensive, especially after being deeply immersed in it, but I try to ask questions instead. Why didn’t it work for them? What did they struggle with? Often, both sides come away having learned something new.
Books are deeply personal, but conversations about them don’t have to be painful. Honest opinions and kindness are not opposites; they can, and should, exist together. If we treat book discussions less like verdicts and more like shared explorations, we make space for richer conversations, stronger communities, and a deeper appreciation of reading itself. After all, the goal isn’t to agree, it’s to understand, and to keep our love of books at the heart of it all. 💛📚
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