We're Linde. We Try Harder

​Somebody recently forwarded me a review of one of my earlier books. It was one of the first times I was able to read a definite “meh” review and not feel my blood pressure rising to the point of cardiac failure.
My reaction was completely dispassionate—and that got me wondering why.
So let’s examine this, shall we?
First, if you’re interested, the book is Son of Ravage—a pulp pastiche that is part satire, part travelogue, and all me. The idea had been floating around in my head since college and finally made it onto the page. It was released less than ten years ago, sold a few copies, garnered a few positive reviews, and that, as they say, was that.
Now, on the reviewer’s side: a man I have never met. From what I can tell, he’s a true fan of the genre. I believe his screen name even includes the word “fan.” He clearly read the book, as he described it in detail. He even went so far as to say he would read a sequel if one were ever written.
The humor and satire simply weren’t for him.
Hey, I get it.
So what if he got a few of the details wrong? He called a Weight Watchers meeting an AA meeting—but hey, he still obviously meant what he said.
Now for the payoff.
What did I write in response in the comment section?
I simply replied: “Thank you. Next time I will try harder.”
Brief, probably. Truthful definitely. And hopefully, I responded in kind. As with him, there was no anger on my part—because there was none on his.
Maybe he’s seen the comment. Maybe he hasn’t. I think he meant what he said. And so did I.
Hey—and for the record… I really am trying harder.