All year long, I debated writing this post because I wasn’t sure of my decision yet. I didn’t want to come across as someone ungrateful for the hundreds of ARC opportunities I’d been given.

I didn’t want this decision to be clouded by memories or emotions, good and bad. I didn’t want it to be an impulsive act I’d later regret.  If I’m breaking up with ARCs, it should be a neutral and reflective moment. Not a colorful f*ck you to all the ways I feel let down by every level of publishing.

Despite negative experiences, I still loved supporting authors  and publishers. I enjoyed bonding with fellow readers over the stories we all loved. I lived for being in the thick of it all, peering into the heart of publishing itself and feeling, in no small way, that I was a part of something magical. That my role in all of this was precious and significant. And maybe it was for a time.

But I can’t continue to ignore the glaring elephants in the room: (1) my growing disinterest in reading due to perpetual burnout (2) my shifting perspective on the value of ARCs, and (3) the frustration I felt due to a lack of appreciation. All of this forced me to examine my relationship with books with more honesty than I allowed myself before. And now I can admit it with absolute certainty:

I am breaking up with book ARCs in 2023.

Raven Divider for posts

The Unholy Pressure to Review Every ARC

Was I forced to review ARCs? No. In fact, I loved the emotional high I received from requesting them and getting approved. It feels good when a publisher or author deems you worthy enough to read their book before anyone else. It feels amazing when your review connected readers to books they might not have noticed before.

Unhauling Books! – Writing The UniverseBut with this always came a sense of guilt and obligation.Beneath was a constant pressure to not only read a book, but do so in an “acceptable” manner. To be honest, but not offensive. To buffer every criticism with cotton candy highlights. To curb my language, soften my disappointment, hold my tongue entirely if I don’t have something nice to say. The anxiety of walking that line between genuine feelings and “professional” feelings that won’t make a publisher avoid me in the future was unreal.

It was also difficult to refuse ARCs for books I knew I’d like.  Or when publishers and authors went out of their way to offer me dibs, and I had to say NO. Or when I said YES, but couldn’t get around to actually reading the ARCs.

I was forever trying to dig myself out from under the 1,200+ review requests Bookish Valhalla received each year from Big Five and Indie publishers. That doesn’t even count the 500+ we got from authors. It was a blessing and a curse to be auto-approved on Netgalley.

It just felt like a turbulent and vicious cycle of feel-good-feel-guilty-feel-fomo that resulted in me associating ARCs with near-constant stress.

The Math of ARCs Doesn't Add Up

No matter how much I try to rationalize the idea that an ARC is considered “payment” for the time and effort I put into a review, the math just doesn’t add up.

It’s actually something my husband noticed over the summer. He asked me why I spent so much time and energy on “something that costs maybe $20.” Now, you must forgive my husband for wording it this way; he’s not much of a booklover, sadly. Or, at least, isn’t what we would consider a booklover. But he made a point that I hadn’t considered before.

The average reader spends about 11.1 hours reading a 400 page book. Depending on the blogger and their review style, it can take anywhere between 2 hours to 2 weeks to write a review. That doesn’t count reviewing on other sites like Amazon, StoryGraph, Readerly, and Goodreads. It definitely doesn’t count the additional time spent spreading the buzz across social media platforms and creating content for those. Honestly, I can’t even calculate those last two in hours because there is so much variance.

But let’s be humble and say a book blogger spends 15 hours total on a particular book. That means, based on the $20 cost of the book, the blogger is being paid at a very rough estimate of $1.33/hour. That’s less than minimum wage.

Pay my bills? Of course just a sec..." Black Books/Bernard | Black books  quotes, Black books, Funny gif

Book bloggers are not just handed a book to read and review. We’re handed a book to market to other readers. And that marketing ability comes with a host of skills such as copy writing, formatting, design, video editing, an understanding of blog legalities, etc. We’re given a book to generate buzz and get others to buy it. It comes at the expense of our time and energy.

When you strip the romance of ARCs away, you realize it’s a lot of work. And that the payment for such work is the work. That doesn’t even account for instances when ARCs aren’t the finished product.

I didn’t like the way my relationship with ARCs made me feel, as if I was little more than a marketing tool. As if my contribution to the industry is only valid when I’m of direct use, beginning and ending with an ARC.

Reclaiming the Joy of Reading for Fun

Honesty? Reading doesn’t feel joyous anymore; reading to review, to support, to boost, to get more ARCs, to talk to other readers—it all feels like a chore. Like a habit performed out of obligation. Like if I don’t support authors and publishers, I’m somehow a bad reader. If I don’t gush about the latest release, I’m somehow irrelevant and outdated. If I’m not screaming my bookish thoughts publicly every 5 seconds, I’m unworthy of being called a book blogger.

Mindy Lynn~ (The United States)'s review of When I Grow Up

These are, of course, irrational thoughts and feelings. They’re unrealistic expectations I’ve held myself to. They’re fears and insecurities I’ve allowed publishing to use in exchange for ARCs. I’m grateful for every ARC I’ve ever received, but I’d be lying if I said the excitement wasn’t eclipsed by a sense of dread. That I wasn’t constantly locked in “read to review” mode to the point where reading anything for the simple joy of it was impossible. When reading is for other people, I find nothing enjoyable about it.

Underneath it all, this is why I’m breaking up with ARCs; I miss reading for myself. I miss losing myself in a story and being in the moment with my thoughts. Sharing my bookish reflections with other readers is wonderful, and it’s something I didn’t have when I first fell in love with books. But I feel as though I’ve allowed my relationship with books, especially ARCs, to be too externally focused to the point of problematic. To the point where it feels weird to just read. No expectations or strings attached. And I hate that.

I want to get back to that place where reading is joy.

Key Note for Readers: I want to emphasize that this is purely a subjective reflection on my own relationship with ARCs over the years. It is by no means a declaration of ceasing to support authors; I’ll do that in other meaningful ways the best I can. But Bookish Valhalla will no longer center our blog on ARC reviews. We want to get back to being more than a marketing hub.

Raven Divider for posts

escafeism heartache gif | WiffleGif

How do you feel about ARCs? How has your relationship evolved with them? Do you still request them? Let me know in the comments!