Month: June 2025

How (and Why) to Review a Book

Want to delight an author whose work you enjoy? Post a three-sentence review of their book (or story) on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Goodreads.

I had coffee this week with a fellow author and we noted that while we’re both selling books, we’re not getting the online reviews that are essential for building reputation and getting the next book (or story) published. We don’t mean book reviews from newspapers (most papers don’t even have reviewers any more). We mean reviews from the readers who’ve purchased the book!

Anyone with an Amazon account can leave a book review, even if they bought their copy of the book at a local bookstore or borrowed it from the library. Even if they just read one chapter, and liked that.

And the formula for a short review is pretty simple:

• Is this the sort of book you usually read?
• What did you like (or not like) about your experience with the book?
• Who do you think might want to read it?
• If you enjoyed it, what scene, character, or story was your favorite?

Karen Eisenbrey, author of A Quest for Hidden Things, Ego & Endurance, the Daughter of Magic trilogy, and the St. Rage duology, loves to review books by other authors.

“Writing a review is balm for a book hangover, when the book was so good, you didn’t want it to end,” she says. “Reviewing allows you to spend more time with a story and characters you enjoyed, putting into words what you liked and why. At the same time, a review is a cost-free way to promote a book and author you like, letting more readers know whether the book is right for them.”

Need inspiration? Check out these short reviews of three new books:

Amazon.com review of Evan J. Peterson’s Better Living Through Alchemy:

“Better Living Through Alchemy reads like William S. Burroughs meets American Gods in a Micky Spillane tale. The sense of smell is paramount in this book, kinda like in Patrick Susskind’s Perfume, but taken in an entirely different occult direction. The book is queer AF, incorporates cut-up poetry, and is a romp of a read. And though it stands alone, the ending sets us up for possible sequels.”

BarnesandNoble.com review of Alternative Liberties:

“This handful of writers had the visceral courage to write this book. In the midst of madness, this book presents a soul-stirring kick of reality into what we have become and where we are headed. Wonderful, begs deep introspection, the stories linger in your conscience, if you have one….”

Amazon.com review Irene Radford’s The Barefoot Sheriff:

“If you loved the smart-ass dialog in the film Tombstone, if your heart was stolen by Deadwood, you will be blown away by The Barefoot Sheriff. Phyllis Irene Radford puts a clever twist on all of the Wild West stereotypes, starting with her sheriff—a feisty, seductive, and magical woman—and continuing on to the evil banker, the fearsome widow, the madam with the heart of gold, and the mysterious clan living on the outskirts of town. Friends or foes? Radford will keep you guessing right to the last sentence.”

“Unwanted Visitors” (a Seattle story)

In a week when the federal government ordered troops into Los Angeles and Seattle’s police chief said that he expects to be arrested for resisting federal bullies, I invite you to read an excerpt from “Unwanted Visitors.” Originally published by B Cubed Press, it’s one of the stories in my new collection Patti 209: Fifteen Tales of the Very Near Future.

“Routine check of the block.” The agent’s speech was devoid of inflection. He probably said that same phrase 50 times a day. Or, in the case of Federal Security, a night. They usually came at night.

His partner was already pawing through magazines on my coffee table, peering at books in my bookcases, and opening drawers in the table where I sort the mail. Marie had come out from the kitchen. Now she perched on the arm of a club chair, her open mouth proclaiming her disbelief.

I stood by the sofa, my eyes on anything but the agents. I always stood when Federal Security came.

The taller agent, the one who’d spoken, brushed past. I wrinkled my nose. His cloying body spray was an assault in and of itself. He jogged heavily upstairs to the bedrooms, squeezing his bulk through the narrow staircase. Meanwhile, in the dining room, his colleague stuck his hand in a vase.

I moved closer to Marie. “Security theater.” I kept my voice low. “Ever since the new administration declared Seattle a terrorist haven—” I rolled my eyes to indicate the absurdity of it, “the feds have been sending these rent-a-cops around to keep us on our toes, keep us frightened. They’ll check the computers, maybe ask to see my phone.”

“But that’s illegal!” Marie said, spluttering. “They need warrants! You should just tell them to leave.” 

I wished she’d keep her voice down. I kept my tone even. “Well, the feds have declared a state of emergency and they claim that means they don’t need warrants. Of course, people are filing lawsuits. But in the meantime, putting up with these visits is easier than being arrested.” I didn’t add that my next-door neighbor who’d resisted an inspection had disappeared the following day. His bungalow now sat empty, the front lawn overgrown. The couple across the street had adopted his dogs. Had he left town? Or was he in a detention camp? 

“The Bodies We Carry” (excerpt)

Here’s an excerpt from the short story “The Bodies We Carry” from my new collection Patti 209: Fifteen Tales of the Very Near Future, available now. I’d considered reading “The Bodies We Carry” for the Strong Women, Strange Worlds Zoom event, or at the book launch at the Couth Buzzard June 6, but the story hits too close to home at the moment.

“Hey, Kath, check this out,” Dean had said when he saw the first news story about the camps.

I’d listened as I cleared our breakfast dishes, shaking my head in incredulity as he explained. Some group calling themselves Campers for Care had obtained the home addresses of the CEOs and board members of major insurance companies, drug companies, and hospitals.

Dean grinned. “They’re taking dead bodies to their offices. To the lobbies of their beachfront condos. They put three dead bodies on the dock of this guy’s vacation place. This is great.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Dean. I seriously doubt the cities are letting them do this.”

Dean steadied his laptop on bony knees. “No, it says here that San Francisco and Denver are giving the Campers permission to keep the bodies on site, in body bags, for up to 36 hours. And there’s been what they call a ‘dead camp’ going on for nearly two weeks in front of some pharma CEO’s mansion in Chicago.”

“You don’t really—” But I stopped. I hadn’t seen that glint in my husband’s eyes for months. 

“Kath, seriously, this is perfect for me,” he said. “I’ll be dead in a month or two, and they say they’re going to start up some camps in Seattle. Let’s just keep the possibility in mind. Please?”