Brave new irony

Another example where the reader knows something the author doesn't. Except in this particular case, the result is pure amusement:

"But what would Socialism mean, according to your idea of it?"
"Oh! Some kind of Aldous Huxley Brave New World; only not so amusing ... " [p.88, Keep the Aspidistra Flying]

Oh, irony. Perhaps, then, Mr. Orwell was aware of what a dull little masterpiece his "1984" would be. Perhaps, in fact, it was all planned ahead...

Wishful thinking

Dystopias are a common enough discussion in literature. With dystopian literature found in a wide variety of genres, presenting futures where each highlights one potentially prophetic aspect of modern society, it's easy to forget that another type of book exists as well: that of wishful thinking. I can think of no better example than "Truth", by Émile Zola.

"Truth" is loosely based on Zola's own experiences in the Dreyfus affair, in that it highlights anti-Semitism in [the then] modern French society. The first three quarters of this large book is about anti-Semitism and the Catholic Church's influence in France at the time. It's hard not to walk away from the book with a clear image of Zola's own personal views of religion and education. The book centers around Marc and his desire to see secularism triumph against the evils of religion. The last quarter of the book displays Marc's (aka Zola's) wishes. While these 150 pages are entirely unnecessary for the book, they shed quite a bit of light on Zola's own wishful thinking. He takes the reader years into the unnamed future and rough estimates suggest it ends well into the early 20th century. Zola's desire to name the future he'd like is clear: he declares that the legislature "finally" voted for a complete separation of church and state, decades into the book. The translator then notes that this is indeed Zola's wishful thinking, for as of the translation (1902-3), such laws have not yet passed though the translator adds that it "has never appeared more likely than it does now". Zola doesn't leave it at that and goes further:

Why did he speak of the Jews? Anti-Semitism was dead--to such a degree, indeed, that the new generation failed to understand what was meant when people accused the Jews of every crime. [p. 542]

That once filthy print had been quite transformed by the new spirit, which had raised its readers both morally and intellectually. ... The Press will, indeed, become a most admirable instrument of education when it is no longer, as now, in the hands of political and financial bandits, bent on debasing and plundering their readers. [p. 564]

On the one hand, reading Zola's thoughts at the time are enlightening. Aside from his blatant political views, his Dreyfus style ideals are showcased in the form of his mirror character, Marc. Yet by setting to print what he hoped would occur, Zola ultimately serves rather as dystopian books do: the truth to his words casts an ugly light on what readers know actually occurred around the time the book ends. In the end, even wishful thinking and Utopia bring the modern reader the gloom of a dystopia novel.

Author feedback

A couple of years ago, I wrote a positive review, one where I wholeheartedly recommended the book. Still, I pointed out my one problem with the story as a sort of warning to any reader who might get turned off by it. The next day, the author responded to my issue by dismissing it and even almost mocking it. I was at first a bit surprised that the author would bother reading my review and then slightly annoyed. I had stated my opinion but to be ridiculed by the author for it seemed a bit harsh.

In recent months, I've seen this happening in a number of places. Authors can now be found quite easily on the internet. They write about upcoming works, keep up-to-date blogs and websites, and are very involved in the internet publicity of the book. Along with this, though, come situations like the one described above: authors find reviews of their books and respond to them. Sometimes graciously, sometimes less so.

Immediate feedback is a general internet trait, but when it comes to writing, it seems to take on a life of its own. Talk of "interactive literature" (where readers can respond as the author writes the story) and mass-reader reviews make it much easier for the author to see reader responses (sometimes positive, sometimes not). At the same time, it makes it much easier for authors to respond. An author can immediately try to defend his/her work and "fix" the image or correct the interpretation. I once saw an author try to explain that her book was not part of the genre the reviewer assumed it to be, was not about what the reviewer felt and the reviewer had, in fact, missed the point. Which, of course, raises the question: How can a reader who interpreted something differently than the author intended be missing the point? It is still a fault on the side of the author.

But author feedback brings many good things too. Just as it's incredible to read authors' letters and notes on a manuscript in order to further understand their writing, it's helpful to see them blog and describe how they see their books. It's adds another level of understanding, the same way a biography might. Author responses give the impression that they really care what people think and that they read each and every opinion, meaning that they might possibly learn from the less-than-favorable opinions.

Of publishers and industries

BookExpo America may have been a couple of weeks ago, but its impact is still being felt. At least, by those of who follow Three Percent, eagerly awaiting the next installment in the series about points that popped up during the expo. While all are interesting in painting a picture of publishing today, a few particularly striking points were raised (*profanity warning):

If the industry wasn’t fucked, there would presumably be enough space in the culture for long-form, independently edited print reviews, book news magazines, online literary mags, bloggers, social networking recommenders, etc., all of which would connect readers with books in different ways, with different levels of authority.

Presenting the problem in one concise paragraph. While the entire entry in the BEA series is interesting, it's the point raised here that really got my attention. The article aims to bring up the problems regarding bloggers and publishers but here it's pretty clear. The left hand has no idea what the right hand is doing. Each medium is separate, has separate rules and different points but all seem to be competitive. Unnecessarily so, especially taking into account how different they are. The book-blogging panel was allegedly meant to find a way to bridge bloggers and publishers together, but all it did was highlight the industry's flaws, misunderstanding the purpose of many blogs. Bloggers have existed for years; many get free advance copies from publishers and do plenty of publicity for these books. But all of the coverage takes blogging as competition when compared to newspaper critique. Which, Post points out, is hardly relevant anymore, especially since newspapers barely appear at this expo. The next installment (the most recent), though, is the one that stands out most:

Or even better, why couldn’t BEA have a panel about e-books that includes a cultural critic, a publisher, an author, a reader? Create a space for real debate and discussion?

I know I’m repeating myself, but publishing is really, really shitty at doing market research. But what if you had a few thousand (ten thousand?) “regular readers” hanging out in one place where you could potentially interact, ask them questions, engage in some sort of feedback loop that would improve your business practices? This could be revolutionary . . .

The panels that I've seen (National Book Critics Circle on book reviews in 2010, here and here) don't have this. Which is a pity, because it really makes the most sense. The book industry spends all day complaining about how they're failing, how nobody wants to read anymore and how everything is over for them. The fact is that they're wrong. People still read and being arbitrarily told what people do or don't want to read shows how out-of-touch publishers are with the readers who ultimately purchase their books. For instance, some publishers are certain that Americans don't want to read foreign literature (part III; also Literary License's thorough take). And so they will not bother seeking out quality foreign literature for translation. A pity and a shame.

The book industry has for too long done whatever it has thought is right and has too often been incredibly wrong. Most readers want different types of books. Even readers with strictly set comfort zones enjoy looking outside the box every once in a while. Only publishers aren't willing to think clearly when it comes to eBooks and the future of the printed book. Publishers aren't willing to admit that the internet and access to free information make the market a different place than it was ten years ago. They aren't willing to work with the public to finding a solution. We get patronizing publishers who don't ultimately care about getting quality books out there. We get a book fair that doesn't admit itself to the greater public and alienates common readers. Post points out that almost every other country with a major book fair gets massive publicity in the non-book world. Only BEA remains exclusive and closed off, preferring pointless panels about how bloggers shouldn't be considered the same as professionals and other subjects along those lines. It all seems a stupid affair, something that may have once worked wonderfully to hype booksellers and reviewers up about books. A novel idea. Now it only seems like a display case of an out-of-touch industry. Harsh, but sometimes that's how it looks.

Some light reading and a quote

Found in the form of Sylvia Plath's unabridged diaries. While reading someone's personal thoughts is a bit disconcerting at times, the book is good for sporadic reads. Plath is one of few poets I've actually read and the occasional poems and poetic moments in her diaries make this a fascinating read. That and Plath's infamous depression. And irony of ironies, as I began reading this heavy book (674 pages, not including the notes), I came across this line on page 10:

And I don't want to die.

Normally, that would appear to be a completely normal sentence. Especially taken in context, where she sounds glum but determined to live. Still, knowing how Plath's life ends makes this simple sentence positively reek of irony. Aside from that, the book is, so far, not much beyond well-written diaries with a bit too much angst on their mind. Also perhaps the prequel to "The Bell Jar". The stalker-sensation is slowly fading and I think this might help further my understanding of "The Bell Jar" and of Plath's poetry. Or I'll continue analyzing this like I might a novel and point here to some foreshadowing. But that seems a bit too morbid.

Chemistry

I'm currently reading Primo Levi's "The Periodic Table" and an odd thing has occurred - I find myself wanting to discuss the book at every moment. And I'm not even halfway into the book. It used to happen very rarely that a book made its way into my life so casually, but this is the third time in recent months where I've found a book that even as I'm reading it affects me so profoundly. This is one that can be discussed along the way.

"The Periodic Table" has perhaps the strangest structure I've encountered in a while. Told in short stories, it's basically a memoir that focuses on science. Each story is centered around one element. Some are long stretches (the opening story, for instance, serves much more as an introduction to Levi's background than any actual relation to chemistry) but others are chemistry stories: the second story tells of how Levi first fell in love with chemistry and a foolish experiment he conducted. Levi practically assumes anyone reading the book knows exactly what he's talking about when he mentions oxidation reduction, various textbook experiments, and many properties of certain elements. And if you don't know chemistry? Tough luck understanding some of the humor.

One of the points that keeps coming up for me is how different the book is. Even though I know it's a memoir, that this is Levi telling me straight-up about his life, the book doesn't feel like a memoir. And it definitely doesn't feel like a novel. It's somewhere in between, where the author is at once so close and so far from the reader, creating the mistaken sense that Primo Levi is currently sitting in front of me and is telling me a story. All the while confusing me further.

A final thought: The last story I finished (Nickel) made me realize that I'm not simply enjoying the book (for its writing, its chemistry, and its cleverness), but also that I now must read every other work Primo Levi wrote. Levi describes his struggles in extracting nickel from the mined rocks. The entire chapter built up my own need to see this problem solved and when Levi finally thinks of the correct (if slightly unorthodox) way to fix his problem, I, the reader, felt happy. Then Levi says how at the time, he tried not to think about the consequences of this discovery, that this method would assist the fascist war effort. He tried not think that this would assist Nazi Germany in continuing the destruction of his (Levi's) rights and life. Levi conveys this flat, distant emotion in an instant and it's impossible not to swallow hard, realizing the truth in his words. As a testament to this incredibly written book, I too discovered that I had tried not to think about those crucial points.

The second tier

A couple of months ago I read the splendid "The Master and Margarita", by Mikhail Bulgakov. For those who haven't read the book yet, go read it now. It's got that perfect mix of genius and hilarity. I was so impressed with the book, I decided to purchase another Bulgakov book, one that I was warned (by the product description) would be nothing like "The Master and Margarita". And so I read "The White Guard", a book utterly different from "The Master and Margarita" but special in its own right. Still, I found myself pondering certain points regarding the books.

Getting to know an author from his/her most famous work first seems to be the common way to go these days. At least, for me. I recently picked up a random Primo Levi book (my first), only to come home and discover that this is possibly the most famous of Levi's books. It explains how I possibly managed to find it, though. Similarly, after reading the excellent "Germinal", I learned that it was part of the whole Rougon-Macquart series, if one of the better known additions.

And indeed, searching for dead or established authors these days will lead the reader not to the author's first works, but rather the later, greater books. Tolstoy's masterful "War and Peace" came before the first-published "Childhood Boyhood Youth" and while many readers would find the latter a letdown, it's a charming little debut. It provides a lot of autobiographical insight on Tolstoy's life and makes for an interesting quick read, even if it lacks the power-punch of "War and Peace". It's not meant to be a similar book. It was, obviously, written first. But, of course, it's not well known at all beyond that Tolstoy wrote it. And many dismiss it because it isn't on the same "tier" as "War and Peace". Pity.

That's not to say I'm not guilty too. In fact, almost all the books I read are the "famous" ones, the ones that history has let continue. It makes sense. But with many authors, there's that feeling that by judging his/her books in the wrong order, I'm making some sort of horrible mistake. Say, for instance, with Bulgakov. "The White Guard" was written prior to "The Master and Margarita". These are two entirely different novels and while I do think "The Master and Margarita" is better, "The White Guard" is special in its own fiction field. If I'd read "The White Guard" first, I think I might have appreciated "The Master and Margarita" a bit more, simply because there's still a Bulgakov feel to both books.

Émile Zola is another example of this. I recently finished reading "Nana", which after the brilliance of "Germinal" and the unique touch to "L'Assommoir", felt like a simply good book. Not outstanding. Yet "Nana" predates "Germinal" by 5 years. Had I read the series in order (as I shall try to do from now on), perhaps I'd have found "Nana"'s bizarreness to be another sign of brilliance and not a tiresome tedium (though it's still a great book). Going back now to the source of the cycle, I'll probably be less shocked and surprised by many of the situations, having already tasted of the "greater" novels in the series.

There are opposite examples to this too but they are far and few between. I have almost always started with the more famous work by the author, with very few exceptions. Does this explain why many readers led backwards like myself find themselves often disappointed by excellent books? What does this say about our tendencies to compare very different books? People won't stop reading the great classics and it makes perfect sense. Some authors wrote horrible first books and only later hit their stride as writers. Others developed in such a way that their early works are overshadowed by the later; the books are good, display the writer's talents and are important, but by comparison they are not the well known books. Then, by coming back to read the perhaps only slightly less good book, I get the sensation of disappointment. "How dare the young, growing author not be as amazing as his more mature works?"

I can't and won't be expected to adhere to this new policy of early works first. It simply isn't possible. It's just interesting to think about. Some writers have horrible first works that may dissuade me from reading their later, better books. And sometimes those early, developmental books have fallen into obscurity. I know I'll face disappointment going back to read the early works and even lose some of the magic of watching an author develop. Comparing authors is often tricky. Comparing an author to his/her own works? Apparently trickier.

Literary conflict in Israel

If you think you've heard of all the literary prizes, here's an interesting one for you: the head of Tel Aviv University's literature department criticized the Sapir Prize, Israel's "equivalent" of the Man Booker Prize. In Haaretz:

"The list this year, on the whole, is good but in previous years I had many reservations about them," Gluzman said. "This prize tries to follow in the footsteps of the Booker Prize. Look at which books won the Booker and which the Sapir. Since its inception, the Sapir Prize has been a prize for lists of best sellers. There is no way that a literary prize should be given to writers of best sellers. That is contemptuous of literature."

The article goes on to describe the methods of boycotting the prize:

The editor of the The New Library publishing house, Prof. Menachem Perry, has been boycotting the prize since 2004 and does not submit his writers for the competition. He explained that the prize engages in the futile promotion of books without any literary value and misses out on books of real value. As a result of the boycott, David Grossman's book, "Isha Borahat Mabesora" (English title: "Until the End of the Land") whose publication was one of the most important cultural events of the year, is not on the list. Another problem with the prize is that some of the country's most important writers refuse to submit their candidacy for it, including Meir Shalev, Aharon Appelfeld, A.B. Yehoshua and Amos Oz.

Several of the most famous Israeli authors don't apply for this prize. That's really a shame because I think Grossman and Yehoshua are excellent writers ("Someone to Run With" and "Friendly Fire" respectively). The head of the judging committee, a prolific Israeli politician and writer, Yossi Sarid, defends the choices, pointing out that "quite a few of the books this year weren't best sellers" and that they "try to choose a book that was not a bestseller to help it get publicity". Facing critique, as he is not a literary professor or professional, Sarid adds to say that many of the fellow committee members are indeed colleagues of Professor Gluzman.

That a prize ultimately ignores many of the major Israeli writers is a situation that could never come to be in the English speaking world. Some books originally written in Hebrew are translated into English (Three Percent's translation spreadsheet for 2008 displayed 12 titles), often by established authors and a few that make it on their own. Perhaps Sarid and the Sapir prize believe it should focus on those other books, those that would otherwise not receive international recognition. So even if some great authors are missing out and the literati are getting riled up, there's some logic to the Sapir Prize's choices and methods.

Today's literary culture - 5 myths

Robert McCrum at the Guardian decided to tackle the "myths" of literary culture:

Myth One: We are uniquely afflicted by cultural crap.

Myth Two: Books used to be better produced.

Myth Three: In the good old days, books were longer, and more demanding. Today, given the minuscule attention span of the Twitter Age, the classics of yesteryear will inevitably slip off the modern reader's radar.

Myth Four: Literary hype is a 21st century affliction.

Myth Five: There was a Golden Age.

McCrum goes into depth regarding each myth, casually debunking them and offering examples as to why these are false claims. It's an interesting article, not least because it actually admits that many of the claims regarding the modern literary culture are so inaccurate. I offer my own additions. For instance, literary hype? Many of the old books in my grandmother's old basement (a good thirty, forty years older than myself) have excited stickers on them exclaiming how the book is "an international bestseller!" and "over 500,000 copies sold!" or "___ critics all agree!" and of course, "[quote by famous author] ___ - 'This is a novel for our times'!". All these stickers, alongside those advertising movies, scream of literary hypes. What's curious is seeing how these books fare today. Many have survived. Often, though, the initial hype disappears and the books are judged only by their literary merit. Who'd have thought?

These myths are obviously ones McCrum invented himself just to pass his point along. Still, these are opinions that can be found easily. There's always a view that the younger generation is somehow ruining the world. With the internet, the criticisms and generation gaps have become surprisingly wider. I've found myself defending young authors from older readers stubbornly refusing to accept a new generation of writers. I've heard, all too frequently, older generations remark that authors today are nothing like [authors from their youth]. And then the "twitter" myths, the idea that people today don't read (utter nonsense) and that books today are far worse than they ever were (also completely wrong)... generalizations abound, but these are points well grounded in truth. McCrum's list may be simplified and inaccurate at times, but it's still very interesting. It may serve as inspiration for a wider debate in the future.

Cheap and expensive, profits and losses

I just read this interesting article from Publisher's Weekly (hat tip, Conversational Reading) that, following the new Kindle DX, found that selling Kindle books for the "cheap" price of $9.99 is a loss for Amazon. Among other things:

That Amazon is currently treating the bulk of Kindle editions as loss leaders—items it either breaks even on or loses on to build market share in e-book sales and to fuel the growth of the Kindle—is one of the worrisome aspects of the current system.

Or so some see it. The article goes into some depth regarding the prices of Kindle books as opposed to the publisher's fees. It turns out that those overpriced Kindle books are crazy cheap when the fact that publishers charge as much for them as any hard-cover book is taken into account. However, an article like this, rich in its own right, brings forth a lot of other interesting side points. For instance, a bit of Amazon's long term goal is clear. Even as the Sony Reader tries to steal the British market from the as-of-yet unavailable Kindle, the feeling that Amazon is so invested in this one product is surprising and says quite a bit about the company. Amazon wants the Kindle to become a common, popular product, not unlike, I would guess, an iPod or an iPhone (even the design is vaguely similar). By making books "cheaper" (but still grossly overpriced), Amazon is trying to lure many standard book-readers to the developing world of eReaders.

And then on the other hand, as mentioned in the article, is the issue of publishers. That it costs the same to buy an eBook version of a book (in bulk, obviously) as it does to buy the hardback is absolutely ridiculous. That Amazon cheapens it is noble and nice, but the fact is that an eBook should be much cheaper than even a paperback. And this is not only to fit in with Amazon's publicity goal. The production costs for eBooks are nothing like for print books (this Three Percent summary from a little while ago jumps to mind: fascinating rough calculations that provide a lot of food for thought) and yet the difference is about 1-3 dollars. Strange. The book industry has become such a complex place that selling books at surprisingly high prices (and eBooks, no less) translates into company losses. That's something to think about.

DX

Now it's apparently the Kindle DX. I've seen one reference to the DX as standing for "deluxe" but I can't remember where I encountered it. In general, the post is less about the large-print almost laptop new Kindle, but rather something else. When the Kindle 2 came out, the news was flooded with Kindle stories. It still is, even a few months later. But curiously enough, there isn't that buzz of excitement around the new Kindle. Either because it's just not interesting after all the ravings of a few months ago, or the product doesn't seem worth it.

What's interesting about the DX is that it displays something about Amazon's market. While Amazon is trying to sell this new device as convenient for reading textbooks, it appears like it is better suited for the upper end of the demographic - older readers. It's a strange circumstance that finds a technological product trying to appeal to both the young generation and the older one simultaneously while fairly ignoring the middle-aged group, though also trying to make a grab at them too. Looking at the DX, it doesn't make much sense as a product. Yes, a large-screen book for the visually impaired is intriguing but at that point doesn't the DX lose the "book" quality Kindles are going for? It's more of a small, flat computer that can only perform one or two functions. Seems not particularly worth it. And for the price hike? Less so.

Still, I doubt Amazon would have developed the DX if there was absolutely no market. And even as this new release gains fairly little major attention (at least, compared to the release of the Kindle 2), it'll be interesting to learn more about it. It could be that Amazon is using the DX as an opportunity to work through some of the kinks that make the Kindle 2 a troublesome product. The prospect of carrying around all business documents seems to handle one of the issues I had. Still, these are simply uneducated musings. I'll go out and learn a little more, but in the meantime there's a lot of non-tech (or detail) related things to think about.

Amazon review of the year

It'll be hard to top this:

it sucke

And for the record, "Germinal" is an excellent book.

Thoughts on poetry

Following the recent announcements regarding this year's Pulitzer winners, the Guardian wrote up a piece about the poetry winner, WS Merwin. It's an interesting article that's bound to make readers go out looking for some of Merwin's works. It certainly made me want to go out and learn more. But I found myself wondering: Merwin has received two Pulitzer prizes and I had not heard of him until now. I mentioned the newer forms of poetry a couple of weeks ago but I didn't really go into the "standard" poetry that's still around. You don't meet people on the street who introduce themselves as "professional poet". And those writers who do spend a lot of time on poetry often delve into other fields as well (quite understandably).

As National Poetry Month comes to a close, the lack of interest in poetry today becomes more and more apparent. My 9th grade poetry unit may have been my final, but my class was not exposed to a wide range of older and modern poetry. Instead, each student was told to find ten poems and put them on a colorful, artistic t-shirt. As projects go, not bad. But most students restricted their finds to the books the teacher left in the classroom, teen anthologies and mostly out-there poetry. In my own out-of-school searches, I stumbled upon Czesław Miłosz and discovered very special writing. But when I showed the poems to other students, they showed little interest, pointing out that the point of the project was ultimately just the artistic side. Reciting poetry required little delving into the real literary aspects of the poems. And I too quickly forgot the poetry unit, focusing more on the novels read during the year.

Ultimately, my own personal shame at not knowing Mr Merwin will carry on until I read some of his works. I've already admitted to being woefully uneducated in the ways of poetry, but I suspect if I had received more exposure to it, I might actually seek out poets, rather than randomly discover them (Miłosz, Sylvia Plath, Blake...). One of my favorite books is still an old poetry anthology from the early 20th century. Why I am not so connected to modern poetry continues to baffle and disappoint me.

"20 most annoying reviewer cliches" and publisher views

This is already old news (though ever relevant), but I wanted to let it sink in a bit before I tackled the issue. About a month and a half ago, Michelle Kerns the Book Examiner wrote up a list of the top most annoying reviewer cliches, explaining how the use of these words in a review trivialize the book and turn the review into little more than mindless babble:

1. Gripping; 2. Poignant; 3. Compelling; 4. Nuanced; 5. Lyrical; 6. Tour de force; 7. Readable; 8. Haunting; 9. Deceptively simple; 10. Rollicking; 11. Fully realized; 12. At once; 13. Timely; 14. " X meets X meets X"; 15. Page-turner; 16. Sweeping; 17. That said; 18. Riveting; 19. Unflinching; 20. Powerful

The problem with these words is that, when reviewers use them to death (as they have), book reviews cease to have any purpose or meaning.

Kerns raises excellent points and even goes into depth as to the misuses of many of these phrases (edited out). The truth is that these phrases are incredibly common and Kerns' vapid mock review later in the article displays a lot more than most people would like to see. Kerns' point that these terms are not simply limited to the internet world (though certainly abused by it) is not a nice one either. The idea that the New York Times Book Review might struggle so much to write a good review that they'd describe the novel as "sweeping" simply because of its length or "riveting" because it's a book that actually manages to keep the reader remotely interested is rather uncomfortable.

Kerns returns to the subject two weeks later (a month ago) with a new and improved idea for writing reviews. The interesting thing is that it works for Kerns, even if it might not suit most online reviewers. Certainly not official, professional publishers. But it's again interesting to see. Kerns has sworn off the pet peeve cliches, admitting that she has used them too but intends to steer clear from now on. Most reviewers, though, are frequent users and it is perhaps because of this fact that these phrases have become so meaningless. A word like "powerful" can mean so very much but saying it about a book now means it has a sad story that's a bit uncomfortable to read. Still, what is most interesting perhaps, is a comment on the second article, by "Inanna Arthen":

As publisher (I run By Light Unseen Media), I can tell you exactly what book reviews are for, from a marketing standpoint. The absolute TOP reason that people will decide to buy a new book is "recommendation from someone that they trust." This often means a friend, relative, or other person whose opinions can't be controlled. But book reviews serve as the next best thing. Readers have a perception that the reviewer is impartial, and if the reader enjoys the reviewer's style, he or she will generally trust that reviewer's judgment. That's why publishers are so anxious to get books reviewed.

There's also the pure exposure factor (it takes roughly seven repetitions before a new name sticks in a customer's mind as something to try). Also, many readers read reviews to find out enough about the book to determine that (a) it sounds like something they'd enjoy and (b) it doesn't sound like something they definitely don't want to waste time on.

It's a little secret of the book marketing world that a lot of high-volume reviewers simply parrot the press material that goes out with the review copy, and said material is usually written with that in mind.

Certainly clears things up, doesn't it? This kind of goes back again to the why we review issue and the issue of ARCs, raised and interestingly handled at heylady.net. Except this looks at the issue from a whole other angle. It is true - if a book is published as good, it'll probably be perceived as good. And when it isn't actually any good, reviewers say that they were "disappointed", having "expected so much more". Where did the expectations come from? And, indeed, why do all these reviews ultimately use the cliches? There's a lot here to ponder.

Challenged books in 2008

Who knew this still existed?

Some objections led to the removal of ["The Kite Runner"] from library shelves, while others saw it replaced with bowdlerised versions minus the offending scenes, according to the American Library Association, which compiles an annual list of the most challenged titles in the country.

The ALA recorded 513 challenges in 2008, up from 420 in 2007. The ALA defines a challenge as "a formal, written complaint, filed with a library or school, requesting that materials be removed or restricted because of content or appropriateness". It estimates that as few as one in five challenges are actually reported. "We believe this is just the tip of the iceberg," said Caldwell-Stone. Seventy-four books were actually removed from shelves following challenges last year, the ALA said.

The books may change from year to year but sadly, each year books are challenged and banned. It's interesting to view lists of banned/challenged books. And a little disappointing. That a children's' book like "The Lorax" would be challenged because it puts the foresting industry in a bad light is fairly sad. So is the fact that a small powerful book titled "Of Mice and Men" should be banned time and time again. Why? "Vulgar language", "violence", and "obscenities". There are many lists of challenged books, some more detailed than others. And even though it isn't banned books week quite yet, there's something troubling to the fact that people are still trying to remove books from public shelves.

Amazon's disappearing act - Update

Amazon has responded to complaining customers with an official statement:

This is an embarrassing and ham-fisted cataloging error for a company that prides itself on offering complete selection.

It has been misreported that the issue was limited to Gay & Lesbian themed titles - in fact, it impacted 57,310 books in a number of broad categories such as Health, Mind & Body, Reproductive & Sexual Medicine, and Erotica. This problem impacted books not just in the United States but globally. It affected not just sales rank but also had the effect of removing the books from Amazon's main product search.

Many books have now been fixed and we're in the process of fixing the remainder as quickly as possible, and we intend to implement new measures to make this kind of accident less likely to occur in the future.

This is good enough for some. Mark Probst, an author whose book was deranked and quickly spread the story, wrote on his blog following this released statement:

So it's over. Amazon admits they goofed, and I, for one, shall give them the benefit of the doubt and say I do not believe that there was any malicious intent. Case closed.

Others are less quick to forget (half the posts). Still, Probst makes a good point. As I mentioned earlier, it makes no sense that Amazon would actively support a policy that alienates so many customers. This is still a weird story, important if only as proof that Amazon (the huge online everything store) is less in control than it was back in the good old days of book-selling (interesting takes by the Seattle Pi here and here).

Amazon's disappearing act

I'm still not sure what to make of this, but so far, here are the details: Amazon.com appears to have removed many GLBT oriented books from their bestseller lists and removing their rankings. The e-mail sent to the self-published author who first noticed his missing ranking reads:

In consideration of our entire customer base, we exclude "adult" material from appearing in some searches and best seller lists. Since these lists are generated using sales ranks, adult materials must also be excluded from that feature.

Meanwhile, someone I know did send their own letter of complaint and received an automated message saying:

Thanks for contacting us. We recently discovered a glitch in our systems and it's being fixed.

There's something off on both sides of the story. On the one hand, it seems incredibly unlikely that Amazon.com would, after so many years, decide now to alienate a large reading community. And more bizarre is what has actually been done. It basically comes down to this: search for the popular "Running With Scissors" (hat tip Read Street), you sift through a number of unrelated titles (movie included) before finally reaching the book. Weirder still is the fact that "Running With Scissors" has retained its ranking, even while other GLBT oriented books have not. "Heather Has Two Mommies" strangely has no rating. And neither book is in any way officially tagged as "adult".

There's no ultimate conclusion from quick searches through Amazon's database. The LA Times' blog lists books that despite a much more "adult" approach, remain ranked even as many books are simply disappearing from the database. While this appears increasingly suspicious on Amazon's part, it seems strange that a website that sells Playboy books would suddenly decide that all GLBT oriented books (or books with a central GLBT character) are too "adult" to appear on bestseller lists. A list of the books with missing rankings can be found here.

Meanwhile, some suggest that perhaps this is all indeed a glitch that came as a result of numerous complaints and was automatically set by a group of people declaring all gay related books to "adult". It is, as of yet, entirely unclear as to what is going on. Amazon will obviously have to explain the situation better than the two-lined automated e-mails being sent around. In the meantime, angry customers refuse to use Amazon's services and will continue bombarding Amazon's help-center with e-mails, hoping that soon this bizarre mess will be rectified.

Unshelved comics

For a bit of library humor, check out Unshelved.com.

He behind the scenes

I was reading the article about James Patterson the other day over at the Guardian. I started it feeling a bit annoyed and ended it feeling very odd. Even angry, maybe. See for yourself:

[Patterson] is the world's bestselling author: JK Rowling, John Grisham and Dan Brown put together don't match the sales of his books. He's had over 35 New York Times bestsellers, he has been the most borrowed author in British libraries for the past two years, and he is due to publish so many tomes in so many genres in the next few months he doesn't even know the exact number.

How does he do it? Well, ever since 1996, when he published a novel called Miracle on the 17th Green with a golfing buddy, he has done it by finding collaborators to help him fill in the blanks. He comes up with the plot, they write the sentences, he reviews draft after draft. To hear Patterson tell it, he simply has too many ideas to write them all up himself, so he enlists an army of co-writers. He resists the word "factory", of course, or "formula".

No surprise that he resists the words "factory" and "formula". Those put a bad face on the issue, don't they? I read these paragraphs at first without paying much attention but suddenly my brain caught up with my eyes and hit the brakes. Because something here smells very rotten. The article goes on to (accurately) describe this as brilliant marketing - placing Patterson's name in huge letters on the cover while in tiny letters acknowledging those who wrote those pesky, irrelevant "sentences".

So the question is what's more important - the story or the writing? If books were simply ideas and thoughts we formulated throughout the day, almost everybody would be an amazingly successful author. And yet what makes books (literature) so important and special is that the idea isn't enough. A book is composed of the central idea (yes), but also the characters, the writing style, the overall mood. Patterson, for all his "overseeing the drafts", only provides one ingredient to these books. The article, however, goes on to say:

Anyone who thinks Patterson is not truly behind these books because he "only" writes the plots has clearly not read them very closely. They are more or less all plot, and you can barrel through them in three-page gulps. If Patterson is not overly concerned with individual sentences, it's fair to say that whoever actually is in charge of them doesn't care much either. They are not designed to be lingered over.

It's a weak defence. All I can think of is that if these books are so plot-driven and are only based on Patterson's quick ideas, he might as well just tell them to me in small Twitter feeds (please don't). This may be a great marketing/publicity scheme, but from a literary sense, there's something troubling to it. No, nobody really thinks of paperback Patterson as grand literature, but his methods seem fairly dishonest and slippery.

This doesn't explain much

Problem - Stress. Solution - Read:

Reading can reduce stress levels by 68 per cent, according to the
University of Sussex research...

Subjects only needed to read, silently, for six minutes to slow down the
heart rate and ease tension in the muscles [the study] found. In fact it got
subjects to stress levels lower than before they started.

Well. Does this mean when I'm too stressed to read, the very last thing I should be doing is not reading in order to not be more stressed? Still, six minutes? I somehow don't see teachers and professors looking too kindly on students pulling out textbooks: "But it lowers my stress levels!" Still, the results only get stranger: drinking coffee and playing video games can also relieve stress. By 54% and 21% respectively. I'm starting to wonder what books these test subjects were reading that made them so comparatively stressed out...