[originally published March 19, 2026, on LinkedIn]
After forty years of writing and almost three decades of teaching applied ethics to university students, I’ve seen many questionable practices and habits. One of the most grating practices, which seems increasingly pervasive, is the habit of publishers and authors asking other authors to endorse their books.
You’ve seen them. They are the pages of two and three-liners from famous and not-so-famous authors of other books who say wonderful things about the book you’re contemplating. Whether they make a difference is an issue I’ll get to later, but for now, I’m considering the ethical implications of this practice.
These endorsements have more recently been dubbed “blurbs,” which is odd since the definition of a blurb was always that short, three-paragraph description on the back of a book that would make you want to read it. Nevertheless, the practice of endorsing another author’s books is called “blurbing.” You’ve all seen them. They are the flattering sentences on a cover or an inside page that call the book brilliant or insightful, a masterwork, unputdownable. You know the drill.
However, the ethical foundation of this practice is far shakier than the industry is willing to admit.
At its core, this “blurbing” operates within an unspoken economy of reciprocity. Today I endorse your book, and, of course, tomorrow, you endorse mine. No one is asked to sign a contract, and no obligation is explicitly stated. Still, the expectation hangs in the air, and that expectation matters. It subtly but powerfully compromises the independence of the endorsement. What appears to the reader as an objective assessment is, in many cases, part of a professional exchange.
The ethical question begins here. Endorsements are meant to signal genuine evaluation. They borrow the credibility of one author to support another author’s work. But when that credibility gets tangled up in a network of mutual benefit, it becomes difficult to distinguish authentic praise from strategic politeness. This potential lack of authenticity is where it begins to border on deception—lying. Even when the blurb is sincerely meant, the surrounding culture of reciprocity casts doubt. And in ethics, perceived conflicts of interest can be just as damaging as real ones.
Consider how this would be judged in other fields. In academia, undisclosed reciprocal endorsements would raise serious concerns. In journalism, they would be unacceptable. In corporate governance, they would trigger conflict-of-interest policies. Yet in publishing, the practice is normalized, and dare I say, encouraged.
Defenders of the practice would argue that authors only blurb books they genuinely admire. I suppose that may be true in some cases. But the system doesn’t require it to be true, and that’s the point. When participation in the blurb economy is tied to visibility, access, and goodwill within the industry, the pressure to comply can outweigh the commitment to be honest, brutally so if necessary. Declining to blurb can feel like a professional risk.
On the other hand, offering one can feel like a strategic necessity. That still doesn’t make it an ethical practice. And sometimes authors are actually required by their publishers to solicit “blurbs.” Could that culture be changing?
There have been reports of a few publishers removing this contractual requirement, but authors are still inclined to collect them. Do they do it to sell books, or is the reason more personal? Is it an ego boost for an author to see another author proclaim the book as a masterpiece?
Then there’s the practical question that lingers in my mind. Do blurbs actually influence readers?
Anecdotally, many readers have grown skeptical. Familiar names appear repeatedly across covers, often praising vastly different books in nearly identical language. The effect is less persuasive than performative. Instead of guiding readers, blurbs risk becoming background noise. They are then merely a part of the packaging rather than a meaningful signal of quality.
If that’s the case, the ethical compromise begins to look even less defensible. Why maintain a system that muddies credibility without delivering demonstrable value?
In my view, publishing would be better served by moving away from author blurbs altogether. Let books stand on their own merits. Let critics, credible reviewers, and readers provide assessments free of professional reciprocity.
Authors, of all people, understand the power of words. When a sentence of praise appears in a book or on a book cover, it should mean to the reader exactly what it seems to mean, and what the reader expects it to mean. It should be an independent, unsolicited judgment. As a reader, I’d look forward to that. In the meantime, I’ll continue to ignore all those endorsements and read a sample. Then I’ll know if it’s worth buying.
Patricia J. Parsons 