Behind Every Book I Review: The Process, The Passion, The Purpose

People often ask me one question — “Sameer, what’s your process for reviewing a book?”

I’ve been asked this everywhere — on podcasts, in libraries, at bookstores, on roadside stalls, in trains, and even while waiting in line for my daughter’s school pickup. And each time, my answer has carried the same heartbeat — a love for books so deep, it has shaped who I am.

For many, reviewing a book might seem like a simple act — read, write, post. But for me, it’s an immersive journey. It’s a conversation between the reader and the writer, the seen and the unseen, the ink and the emotion.

When I began my journey, I never imagined it would lead me to create a world record — 365 book reviews in 365 days. Later, that grew into 1000 book reviews in 1000 days, an odyssey that tested not just my literary skills, but my discipline, empathy, and endurance.

Each review was not just a summary — it was a story within a story, an attempt to listen to what the author didn’t say aloud.

Step 1: Choosing the Right Book

Every review begins with a spark — sometimes it’s a recommendation from a fellow reader, and sometimes it’s a book that quietly finds its way to me through an author or a publisher.

Over the years, as a professional book reviewer, I’ve been fortunate to have books arrive at my doorstep from across the world — debut writers hoping for their first spotlight, established authors seeking a fresh perspective, and publishers entrusting me with early copies long before they reach the shelves.

I often say I don’t just pick books; books choose me. Each one comes with its own rhythm, its own voice, its own universe waiting to be understood. Fiction or non-fiction, poetry or memoir — what truly matters is that the book has something genuine to say.

As I turn the first few pages, I always ask myself a simple question:
What truth is this book trying to tell me?

That question becomes the compass for every review I write — guiding me not just toward the story, but toward its soul.

Step 2: Immersing Fully

Once I start reading, the world around me dissolves. My focus sharpens — I read not as a critic, but as a listener. I take notes, underline sentences that strike a chord, and sometimes pause mid-paragraph to simply feel.

I often say that reviewing is not about reading fast — it’s about reading deep. I try to understand the author’s mind — their motivation, their worldview, their silences between the words. Whether it’s the tension of a thriller or the tenderness of poetry, I allow myself to be moved. Because if the book doesn’t move me, my review won’t move the reader.

Step 3: Understanding the Author’s Perspective

Before I even begin writing, I spend time knowing the author. I read about their life, their previous works, and their interviews. This isn’t research for formality’s sake — it’s empathy in action.

A review without understanding the creator is like judging a painting without knowing the artist’s brushstrokes. When you understand the ‘why’ behind a story, you review not from the surface, but from the soul.

Step 4: Identifying the Heartbeat of the Book

Every book has a heartbeat — a theme, a message, a pulse that holds it together. My job is to find it. Sometimes it’s courage, sometimes grief, sometimes hope. I don’t just summarize what happens; I explore why it matters.

Themes, characters, plot — all of these are part of the anatomy of a review, but the real art lies in finding how these pieces make readers feel. That’s where the magic begins.

Step 5: Writing the Review

When I sit down to write, I follow one rule — honesty with kindness.
I don’t believe in tearing down an author’s work; I believe in engaging with it sincerely. My reviews are never about judgment — they’re about conversation. I aim to highlight what works, gently address what doesn’t, and most importantly, honor the effort behind the words.

Each review follows a structure — an introduction that sets the tone, a body that explores themes and characters, and a conclusion that offers reflection and recommendation. But beyond structure lies soul. That’s what transforms a review into an experience.

Over the years, I’ve refined my process into something that feels less like critique and more like storytelling. I approach every review the way I would a conversation over coffee with a fellow book lover — honest, warm, and alive. I want the reader to feel the story, not just read about it.

I begin with a hook — a moment, a question, a memory — something that instantly pulls the reader in. From there, I weave in details about the author, their previous works, or a small insight that hints at the emotional heartbeat of the book. I introduce the premise without giving away the plot, always ensuring the mystery and magic remain intact.

When I discuss the writing style, I try to make readers hear the rhythm of the sentences, see the color of the author’s words, and feel the mood they create. If the prose is lush and lyrical, I let my sentences breathe that way too; if it’s crisp and minimal, my tone follows suit.

Then come the characters or ideas — the heart of every book. I don’t just describe them; I live with them for a while. I watch how they speak, how they stumble, how they grow. Sometimes, I find pieces of myself in their journeys. Other times, they teach me something new about being human. If the book is non-fiction, I focus on its ideas — their originality, clarity, and ability to make the complex feel accessible.

The plot or structure is where I explore the book’s architecture — how it builds tension, releases emotion, and finds rhythm. I never reveal spoilers, but I try to help readers sense the energy of the narrative. Is it a slow burn or a storm? Does it whisper or roar?

The themes and messages are where reading turns into reflection. I look for what lingers — a scene that mirrors real life, a line that feels like it was written for today’s world. I connect the book’s core ideas to universal human truths — love, loss, resilience, belonging — because books, at their best, don’t just tell stories; they hold up mirrors.

The emotional impact is where honesty comes in. I share what moved me, unsettled me, delighted me. I let readers see the reader in me — not the critic. I believe vulnerability makes reviews memorable.

When I talk about the book’s strengths and weaknesses, I do it gently — like talking to a friend about something they poured their heart into. I highlight the brilliance — perhaps the lyrical prose, layered characters, or emotional depth — while offering suggestions in a spirit of appreciation, not judgment.

Then comes my personal reflection and recommendation. I connect the book to my own reading journey — sometimes to a childhood memory, sometimes to a recent experience. I mention who the book might be perfect for — the dreamers, the thinkers, the ones in need of courage.

And finally, I close with a line that lingers — a reflection, a metaphor, or a quiet whisper of thought. Something that makes the reader pause. Sometimes, it’s a poetic sentence; sometimes, it’s a heartfelt nudge to go pick up the book.

When I look back at the thousands of reviews I’ve written, from debut authors’ dreams to internationally acclaimed titles, I realize the real record I hold isn’t in numbers — it’s in moments of connection. A reader saying, “I picked up that book because of your review.” An author whispering, “You understood what I meant to say.”

That, more than any certificate, is the true reward.

Step 6: Refining, Proofreading, Perfecting

Before I publish a review, I step away and let it rest. My finalization is a quiet, four-day ritual: I write the review in the first sitting, then step back and revisit it after two or three days with fresh eyes; finally, I read it again in depth the day before publishing. During those pauses I check for clarity, flow, and honesty — trimming what feels showy, keeping what feels true. I want my reviews not only to inform but to connect. Passion starts the process, but patience perfects it.

Over the years, I’ve learned that writing may begin with passion, but it is perfected with patience.

The Larger Purpose

Book reviewing, to me, isn’t just a hobby — it’s a form of service. It’s my way of giving back to the literary world that raised me. Over the years, I’ve seen how a heartfelt review can help a debut author find confidence, or how a reader picks up a book they’d otherwise overlook. I’ve received countless testimonials from authors who’ve written to say how deeply my words resonated with them, how a single review rekindled their belief in their craft.

My world records are milestones, yes — but more than that, they’re proof of consistency, discipline, and an unwavering love for literature. Every day, I remind myself that words have the power to heal, connect, and inspire.

And if my reviews have, in some small way, made someone fall in love with reading again — then the record books are just a bonus.

Books don’t just tell stories. They build bridges.

And every review I write is my small step in making sure those bridges stay strong — one book, one reader, one day at a time.

In the end, every review I write is more than just an opinion — it’s a dialogue between hearts. Between an author who dares to dream and a reader who dares to feel. Between ink and empathy. Between silence and story. I often think of my reviews as lanterns — small, steady lights guiding someone, somewhere, toward a book that might just change their life. And as long as there are stories to tell and hearts willing to listen, I’ll keep lighting those lanterns — one review, one connection, one honest word at a time.