When someone reviews our book, we writers have to play it cool.
Here's G.K. Chesterton, kicking back in a lawn chair. Note his sober, judicious expression as he reads (perhaps) an article, (maybe) reviewing his new book. It's no big deal, right? What kind of sandwiches will be served at teatime, he wonders while skimming the text. Cucumber, maybe? Or strawberry? Are strawberry sandwiches a thing?
I must admit that, when I read the first review of The City Mother, I was a little more . . . emotional. If I'd been sitting that chair, I would've tipped it over in my excitement, or just slid bonelessly to the ground like an eel.
No, no -- I'm good. Everything's fine. When's teatime again?
Oh, I'm in charge of teatime? Right.
Strawberry sandwiches all around!