“Absolutely riveting” and “compelling.” “A must-read” and “a tour de force.” Blurbs, those haiku-length endorsements on every book jacket, are a ubiquitous part of the literary scene, boldly declaring that the book you’re about to delve into is “life-changing.” Or “mesmerizing.” Or “captivating.” Or “unputdownable.”

Authors love to hate them. Debut writers struggle to gather them. Established writers struggle to fulfill requests from friends, authors who share the same publisher or agent, and promising newcomers who deserve a leg up.

The famously fractious publishing community seems to agree on this point: Blurb collection is a time-consuming, dispiriting and occasionally mortifying process, one that takes time away from the actual writing and editing of books.

But until last week, the quid pro quo cycle felt inescapable, an essential part of rolling out a book and giving it a fighting chance in a crowded marketplace.

Then, on Thursday, Sean Manning, the publisher of Simon & Schuster, announced in an essay in Publishers Weekly that authors under contract with the house’s flagship imprint would no longer be expected to solicit feedback from fellow writers.

“Trying to get blurbs is not a good use of anyone’s time,” Manning wrote. He commended “the collegiality of authors,” but pointed out that “favor trading creates an incestuous and unmeritocratic literary ecosystem that often rewards connections over talent.”