Reviews are, by most definitions, subjective: ultimately they always have a some degree of opinion. An informed opinion, subject to careful consideration of any inherent biases and critically assessed by other editors, we’d like to think, but still, ultimately, subjective.

This is especially true of camera reviews. A camera isn’t a simple device that can be summarized by conducting objective performance tests in an analytical report. For a start, the comfort and usability of a camera are important factors, that can’t be objectively assessed. All the more so because a camera is a device that can be used for self-expression. Enjoyment is absolutely critical.

All of this was at the front of my mind as I wrapped up our recent review of the Sony a7 V, and as I, as lead reviewer on this camera, start to build my case for arguing its position in our various Buying Guides. It’s a really difficult task, because although the a7 V is an extremely capable camera, but one that competes against some of the most all-round capable cameras we’ve ever seen, battling it out in arguably the most competitive part of the market. There are a few differences in objective spec and performance, but they won’t be significant enough for most people to help them make a choice.

The Sony a7 V: so good. And yet…

The a7 V was a particularly challenging camera to review in that regard. It’s supremely capable and is an obvious choice for existing Sony users. It’ll be a huge step up for anyone using an a7, a7 II, a7 III or a7C, and will be a better camera for some a7 IV users, especially if they shoot video. But for someone without a brand commitment, it’s more difficult.

The first thing you have to do is check your own biases.

The easiest thing to do would be to look at how many lenses are available for the Sony E-mount, stop the count and brush any awkward concerns about usability or ergonomics under the carpet. But I feel that would be both simplistic and dishonest. Because, by the end of my review, I found myself thinking that I enjoyed using the Canon EOS R6 III more.

I have an annoying habit of admonishing my colleagues for using the term ‘intuitive.’ Almost no aspect of camera operation is intuitive: it’s learned. And if you’re thinking that it’s intuitive, it might just be that it’s something you learned so long ago that you’ve forgotten doing so. And that’s where familiarity bias can creep in. Photo: Richard Butler

This puts me in perhaps the most uncomfortable position that you encounter, in reviewing: having to work out how much or how little your personal experiences and opinion count, and how much weight to give them. I spent a lot of time asking myself why I was impressed with the camera more than I was enjoying it. Could I point to why I found the interface of the camera rather more awkward than its rivals’?

How objective can you be?

The first thing you have to do is check your own biases. Do I dislike this interface because I haven’t taken the time to learn it? Do I prefer a different way of working purely based on familiarity? I don’t believe so: I’ve used Sony cameras just as much as any other brand, and have no more connection to, say, Canon’s cameras than to Sony’s.

I kept asking myself those questions, the whole time I was using the camera, to make sure I was being fair. And I kept looking to see if I could put my finger on why I found the interface so distancing.

The color-coded sections in Nikon’s setup menu makes it easy to learn and navigate, but plenty of the rest of the menu structure is struggling under the weight of the feature set and level of customization. Composite image: Richard Butler

In the end, I’m not sure I found it. I can point to plenty of details I don’t like: the strangely phrased and oddly truncated menu names (are Sony’s menus still subject to the same character limits as MS DOS?), the superfluous control panel built awkwardly into the new menus, the clumsy handling of features with interacting settings. But I can’t be sure that it’s the sum total of these annoyances that left me feeling disconnected from what the camera was doing.

But, all the while I’m quizzing myself on this, I’m also very aware that lots of people don’t find this a problem. Or simply don’t mind. As I’ve written in just about every Sony review I’ve ever written: with a bit of customization, you rarely have to use the main menus. Equally, there’ll be plenty of people whose primary experience of digital photography may be with Sony cameras: they won’t find any of this a problem, because that’s just how cameras work, from their perspective. And it’s a completely valid perspective.

The interactive settings panel, shoehorned into Sony’s latest menu system manages to be both too easy to inadvertently navigate away from, while simultaneously always feeling like it’s in the way. I’m not sure a prompt to contemplate the nature of paradox is what I’m looking for in a user interface, but I have to assume it’s possible that someone finds it useful. Composite image: Mitchell Clark / Richard Butler

Beyond the user interface, I also found the grip somewhat uncomfortable. Much of the time you tend to support a camera’s weight by cradling the lens in your left hand, but I found that myself having to release the camera, relax and stretch my fingers, at regular intervals. Again, this risks being specific to my hand size or shape, or the way I try to grip the camera, but my colleague Mitchell seems to have had the same experience.

Conversely, I don’t remember having the experience I’ve seen some people report, where the proximity of the mount to the hand grip means your knuckles can grate against some of the more stout E-mount lenses. Did I only avoid this through lens choice? Or, again, is this just another personal factor that didn’t particularly make apply to me?

How do you proceed?

Is the Canon EOS R6 III’s grip objectively better (for everyone) than the Sony a7 V’s? It’s impossible for me to know. But would it help anyone if I pretended there was no difference in my experience with each? Photo: Mitchell Clark

So what’s the correct way to report these issues? I’ve seen some Sony users insist that they shouldn’t be mentioned at all, because they may be personal, rather than universal. But it would be dishonest to omit a factor that might put me off buying a camera, if there’s a chance someone might go and spend their money, based on what I wrote (or didn’t write).

Instead I did what this job requires: I reported my concerns but was careful to present them proportionately and in context. I made clear which concerns and criticisms I felt would apply to everyone and which wouldn’t. And I endeavored to stress that part of the reason the menus have become so overwhelmed, and potentially overwhelming, is that the camera does so many things and offers such a high degree of customization.

Subjective factors like usability aren’t trivial complaints, they’re fundamental

These are the questions we’ll be wrestling with this, as a team, as we look to update our Buying Guides. Because, even on reviews with only my name at the top, we try to represent more than just a single perspective or opinion, in our coverage. But our decision will still factor-in the subjective, because cameras aren’t simple devices where you can test a couple of metrics and report which one is objectively “best.” And we’d be failing you if we treated them as such.

I saw the subjective concerns about the a7 V dismissed as “all they’ve got to complain about.” And this is a position I don’t need to be so introspective about: it’s utterly wrongheaded. It’s true that the a7 V is a really good camera (hence the Gold award) but at a time where some of the most significant things setting dedicated cameras apart from phones are the experience of controlling the photo and the enjoyment of photography, subjective factors like usability aren’t trivial complaints, they’re fundamental.

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