Words on Words: Changing Directions

 I know, I know, I know.  I said at the very beginning that this blog wouldn't be for reviews.  Ten years ago, that was my intention.  There were other outlets for reviews where I believed they rightly belonged.  The world didn't need yet another book review blog.

Has that really changed?  Well yes, and no.  Amazon's reviews now have lots of requirements and caveats they didn't have then, but they're still often just as questionable as they were when I was busting the fiverr reviews.  Over the past couple of years, BookLikes has more or less gone defunct.  Goodreads, still the major review site, continues risky under the huge thumb of Amazon.

And there are a lot of bloggers who have left the business.  Sometimes it's just general burn-out.  Sometimes it's in response to harassment from thin-skinned authors and/or their "street teams" who demand only five-star reviews and no criticism.  Review blogs, in their view, should serve only to promote and sell books.

I could, if I had the discipline or desire, research some of the existing book review blogs to see how many of them limit reviews to "four stars and above, only" and similar high-rating requirements.  I have neither the desire nor the discipline.  What those reviewers do is their business.

So what can I do to set myself apart?

Well . . . .

It's been almost five years since I picked up the figurative romance writing pen and wrote The Looking-Glass Portrait.  I haven't done as much writing since then as I would have liked, and there are a lot of reasons for that.  One is that I tend to write more when I read more.  Reading serves to prime the pump, and I just haven't had much motivation to read. 

And there have been personal reasons, too.  Now I'm trying to get back to reading in order to get back to writing.

The Looking-Glass Portrait is a contemporary gothic romantic suspense.  There are real ghosts in it, a real murder, a real romance.  I had enormous fun writing it, and I realized in the process that this is one of my favorite romance sub-genres.  It had gone out of favor in the 1970s when my historical romance writing career got its real start, but I always enjoyed reading the older gothics and those few that were still being written by authors like Phyllis A. Whitney and Barbara Michaels and Daphne duMaurier.

 

 

Now I'm ramping up the writing of another contemporary gothic romance, and I need to prime the pump again, so to speak.  I have plenty of old paperback gothics to read, and I'll be treating you to reviews of some of those in the weeks and months to come.  But the books written and published in the 1950s and 1960s aren't always reflective of the current market.  I knew reading books being published today was essential.

As a retired person an a limited income, I rely a lot on the public library and free Kindle books to keep me in reading material that isn't tattered, often taped-together paperbacks.

 

 

If I had an unlimited book budget, I'd buy zillions of digital books because otherwise I'd be run out of house and home by stacks of paperbacks.  I don't have that unlimited budget, so I acquire my collection via sales and . . . Kindle freebies.

Kindle freebies are, of course, mostly published by the authors ("SPAs" self-publishing authors) or small, independent publishers ("Indies").  In the past dozen years or so since I've been reading digital books, I've learned that there is often -- not always, but often -- a sharp divide between the traditionally published and the author/indie published books in terms of quality.

Maybe readers don't care.  Maybe readers read without noticing the plot holes and the character inconsistencies, the errors of fact and the misspellings.  Maybe the writers don't care either.

But I do care.

My thought today, then, is that maybe it's time to put some reviews on this blog, particularly of the indie/SPA digital books as compared to the traditionally published, with a fond focus on the gothic and romantic suspense sub-genres, as they were then and as they are now.

Not all the traditionally published gothic romances are five-star quality, despite their reputations or even semi-classic status.  Over the past several years, I've done detailed analyses of some of those "classic" gothics, and the books have proven to be less than stellar, pun intended.  I plan to put some of those analyses on here as well because they illustrate how even the traditional authors, editors, and publishers get it wrong.

Normally, I consider reviews are for readers, and in a way the reviews that will appear here are no different: they'll be meant to alert readers to books that in my opinion are great or terrible or something in between, so that they can choose their reading material accordingly.  Reviews aren't for authors; they're supposed to get their critiques before they publish.

But the reviews I'm going to do are deconstructions, taking the story and the writing and even the presentation apart bit by bit to show what works and what doesn't and why.  In that sense, these are reviews for writers as much as for readers.  I want the books I read, whether Kindle freebies or library digital loans or any other format, to be well written and well structured, so I can lose myself in the words.  That's what it's all about.

Word Power: If you can't say something bad, don't say anything at all

I was digging through some old files recently as part of my on-going decluttering project and came across a folder I had almost forgotten about.  It was one of those serendipitous events that got me to thinking yet again about this whole business of reviewing.

There are people who review semi-professionally: They are given books for the purpose of reviewing, though they don't actually get paid.  These books come from NetGalley or another online sources.  Or from publishers.  Or from authors.  Whether they act upon it or not, these reviewers have a motive to give good reviews and to inflate ratings.  If good reviews keep the free books coming, that's a motive.  If the reviewers can't afford to buy all the books they'd like to read or they like the attention good reviews bring them, it doesn't matter.  They have a motive.

That doesn't mean their reviews should be automatically deemed unreliable.  Again, having a motive doesn't mean they acted on it.

Furthermore, even if they acted on that motive, and like the late and unlamented Harriet Klausner gave every book five stars, they're free to do so.

And anyone who reads their reviews is free to discount or completely ignore them.  Or to trust them.

I have no problem with this.  We are each entitled to review what and how we please. 

If you don't like the way someone reviews, don't follow them or don't give their reviews any credence.  But please, don't tell them they're reviewing the wrong way or that they shouldn't review the way they do.  (Personal attacks on authors are not reviews, by the way.)

If you believe reviews should take the author's feelings into consideration, that's your opinion.  If you believe no review should be written unless the whole book has been read, that's your opinion.  If you believe reviews are supposed to help sell books and should therefore always be positive even if it means lying about the quality of the book, that's your opinion.

It's not mine.  If you are entitled to your opinion, am I not entitled to mine?

I don't think most reviewers lie about the books they read.  And those who do, frankly, are entitled to do so!  Their reviews are for readers, and readers will learn either to trust those reviewers or not trust them.  Readers are entitled to their opinions of reviewers, too.

A review, however, is not a critique, and to me this distinction is very important, which is why I titled this blog post with the twist on the old admonition about being nice.

The folder I came across contained score sheets and evaluation reports from a romance novel writing contest I coordinated more than 20 years ago.  The entries were the opening chapters of unpublished books (first 25-50 pages).  Through their entry fee, the writers had paid for and were guaranteed at least two critiques/evaluations in addition to a 20-element score sheet from three judges. (Possible score 0-100, with 100 being perfect 5 points on each element.)  The judges were experienced readers and many were also writers, with varying degrees of experience.  Each writer could compare the scores and comments from three different readers.

As the coordinator of the contest, I gave the judges a set of guidelines to help them provide the entrants, whether they won or lost, with  useful feedback.  The last item was:

Don't be afraid to tell the writer that something doesn't work for you.  Even if you can't explain WHY it doesn't work or tell her HOW to fix it, let her know this might be an area she needs to work on or get help on.  Is her description flat?  Is her dialogue stilted?  Does she make too many grammar or spelling mistakes?  Are her characters wooden?  These are unpublished manuscripts, so they aren't expected to be perfect!

There were over 100 entries, over 300 score sheets.  Only three of those score sheets came back with perfect scores, all from the same judge.  They were the only entries she read.  She gave them 100 points and her comments were identical on all three:  "I loved your book.  It was wonderful.  Keep up the great work!"

To put it mildly, none of the other judges who had scored these three manuscripts agreed with her.  I felt I had no choice but to find out why she had given perfect scores to three books, two of which the other judges found seriously flawed.

Through a series of emails (which are printed out in the folder) and phone calls (referenced in the emails), I asked her if she truly felt these three manuscripts had absolutely no problems or weaknesses and were so perfect that they could not be improved upon in any way.  She admitted she did not.

"Then why did you give them perfect scores?" I wrote in one of the emails.  "If you didn't think they were perfect, why tell the authors  they were?"

She replied:  "I didn't want to hurt their feelings.  I knew the other judges were probably going to give low scores so I wanted to be nice."

"Wouldn't that give them false hope and maybe prevent them from getting some help?" I asked in a follow-up.  According to the other evaluations, one of the manuscripts was riddled with spelling errors and misused words, such as "lightening" that should have been "lightning" and "custom" that should have been "costume."  One judge had scored it only 27/100.  "Did you basically lie to them?"

She admitted, "I suppose so.  I just couldn't be mean to them.  I wouldn't ever want anyone to tell me there's anything wrong with my book.  I want to believe it's wonderful because to me it is.  I'm sure that's what she wants to believe, too."

After several more exchanges along this line, I wrote:  "So it wasn't about what she expected to get out of the contest because you had no way of knowing that, other than she paid with the expectation of honest feedback.  For you, it was all about your feelings.  Even though you agreed to be honest and knew you might have to tell someone their book had problems, you knew ahead of time you couldn't and wouldn't do it."

Her reply to that was:  "I would rather lie out of kindness than hurt someone's feelings."

The contest rules allowed for re-judging if any scores were way out of line; I gave all three entries to another judge who was able to give honest scores.

I received very harsh criticism from some of the other judges for cancelling that judge's hard work in reading and judging. I defended my decision by pointing out that it was within the rules; I didn't mention that for all I knew, she never even read them, since she put no effort into the actual judging.

Anyway.

There was another manuscript that got rejudged in that contest, this one for a different reason.  Two judges rated it very high, well into the 90s.  The third gave it less than 20.  Again, as coordinator I asked her why she was so harsh on this entry, when the others she judged fared quite well.  As it turned out, she didn't like the story or the characters because she didn't recognize the particular conventions of this type of romance novel.  They didn't fit the kind of books she was accustomed to reading, and so she didn't like it and thought everything was wrong.

"You scored it 0 on spelling and grammar," I wrote to her in an email, also in the folder.  "Did it have any errors?"

Her reply:  "I don't know.  I didn't pay attention."

She was very angry with me when I told her it would have to be rejudged because her score was so far out of line with the other two.

"My opinion this is a poor written book irregardless of the category.  Doesn't my opinion count?"

In this case, no, her opinion didn't count, because she was giving inappropriate feedback to the writer.

"This isn't a review like in Romantic Times," I wrote to her.  "This book isn't done and edited and published.  You're not sharing your opinion of a published book that can't be changed with other readers as to whether you liked it or not.  This is between you and the writer who's looking for advice.  If you don't know anything about science fiction, would you try to help someone who's writing it?  Or a murder mystery?  You read [a particular category of romance novel] and this is [a different category] that has very different requirements.  Reviewing and critiquing are two different animals."

Also in the folder was a letter I had received from one of the entrants after the contest was over.  Though she had not won, she placed well with decent scores.  She thanked our group for sponsoring the contest and especially for guaranteeing that the writers would receive feedback.

"My family members and my critique partners are all too nice.  They won't tell me what's wrong with my book.  If publishers reject it without any feedback, where else is a writer suppose [sic] to get any?  Your judges all made comments that gave me points to look for improvement that I wouldn't have thought of."

There are a variety of techniques suggested for softening the blow of a bad critique, such as balancing each negative comment with a positive one of equal weight or offering alternatives to what's already been written.  

 For example, in an unpublished contemporary romance I wrote several years before that contest, the heroine wears a dress with a plunging neckline when she goes to a bar.  One person who read the manuscript scribbled on it something to the effect that "no decent woman would dress like that!"  Because all of her other comments were similarly harsh and insulting -- and I had not solicited her opinion in the first place -- I dismissed them all.  Only years later did I realize her comment about the dress was correct, but not for the reason she stated.  The heroine was very shy and retiring and had been through a significant emotional trauma; she had bought the dress in an effort to break out of her shell and overcome her reluctance to engage socially with a man she found attractive.

Had my critic made a suggestion that I provide the character with more motivation for wearing such a dress, I might have thought differently about it.  Had she asked me why the character dressed in such a manner, I might have been able to provide an answer that made sense.  But she had no positive comments, no suggestions, just angry complaints.

On top of that, I had not asked for her opinion.  I had not given her the manuscript for a critique.  She was not a judge in a contest I had entered voluntarily or a member of a critique group I had joined voluntarily.  After that experience, I never let anyone else read the book.  It rests in my files right now, with the copy she marked up in the folder with the original.

As stunned as I was by the nastiness of her critique, I didn't stop writing, didn't stop seeking critical input.  But I was very careful where I got that criticism from.  There was no sense asking for comments from people who were not qualified -- in my opinion, of course -- to render judgment on my writing, on the solidness of the plot, the credibility of the characters, the accuracy of the research.

When random Twitter users complain, as one did a few days ago, that authors ought to accept occasional suggestions from random readers, my reaction was a swift and strong, "No!"

First, writers at any stage of their careers need qualified input; random Twitterers don't meet even minimum standards that would allow any of them to demand that their opinion be taken as gospel.

Second, writers at any stage of their careers have the right to refuse criticism, regardless what the critic's qualifications may or may not be.  Random Twitter troll or multi-published, award-winning author, their comments can be rejected by the writer for any reason or no reason at all.

Third, critiques prior to publication are entirely different from reviews of the published work.

Allow me to repeat:

Third, critiques prior to publication are entirely different from reviews of the published work.

Critiques are for the author and are about an unfinished work. They are intended to help the author improve the work, whether the author accepts them or not.  They may come from informal critique partners, contest judges, semi-professional beta readers, professional agents or editors or proofreaders or sensitivity readers.  They are solicited directly or indirectly by the writer, and the acceptance or dismissal of any suggested changes to the work in progress as a result of the critiques is always at the writer's choice.

Reviews are for readers and are about the finished work after it is published.  They are intended to inform readers' decisions to read or not read the work. Reviews may come from qualified or unqualified readers, people who are intimately familiar with the genre and the language as well as the uninformed fan who doesn't know the difference between an adverb and an antagonist. They can be solicited or unsolicited, but there are sometimes ethical considerations involved with solicited reviews. Authors have little to no control over who reviews their published books and shouldn't have any.

I've said it before and I will say it again: If you are a writer and you choose to publish your work and make it available to the reading public, whether you charge money for that reading or give the work away for free, you give up the right to complain about comments made about your work without pushback.  Sure, you can comment.  You can rant and scream and whine and cry.  But ultimately, the reading public will have its say.

If the negative remarks of random readers you've never met -- and probably will never meet -- cause you emotional pain, don't read them.  They aren't for you.

If you are a critic, be honest with your criticism; the writer wants and needs your honesty.  If they lash out at you for your honesty, drop them.  They didn't want or value your honesty.

If you are a reviewer, review the book honestly for your readers.  They're the audience, not the writer who basically said, "I'm done, it's finished."  If you can't be honest, if you can't point out the bad along with the good, at least be honest with yourself.

And another dangerous word

Honesty.

It does not pay to be honest.  It is not safe to be honest.  Honesty is a very dangerous commodity.

In the past, with my blogs and reviews and other writing, I have tried to be as honest as I can.  I believed very sincerely that that was what was needed.

Honesty may have been needed, but it was not wanted.  I learned that over a year ago when Goodreads instituted the infamous September 2013 Purge.  I learned it again last month when Goodreads permanently banned me. 

It doesn't make any difference.  I don't know how to be dishonest about these things.  I can lie about other things -- I assure you, I'm no saint -- but what point is there to lying in a book review?  Or in a discussion related to books and writing and reading?  What's the freaking point?

Authors need to get a clue.  I am amazed, yes truly amazed, that there is so much ignorance out there still, after all this time.  Maybe it's more willful ignorance than the innocent kind.  And yes, this is the kind of not-nice-but-honest comment that gets me into trouble.  No doubt I will get into trouble again before this post is finished.

Reviews are not commercials.  Reviewers are not there -- wherever there is -- to write ad copy for authors.  How difficult is this to understand?  Leaving out the semi-pro reviewers -- by which I mean those who have formal book blogs and regularly obtain advance copies for the explicit purpose of reviewing -- most reviewers are just readers.  They're consumers.  They bought the damn book, or obtained it free when the author was giving it away, or checked it out of the library, or whatever, and then they read it.  Where in that commercial transaction is it decreed that the reader owes the writer anything at all?  Where is the requirement that the reader help the author sell her book to other readers?  Or help the author become a better writer?  Or fix the mistakes in the present book?

That's right.  It's not there.  Readers do not have any obligation to review at all.  They don't have any obligation to rate a book on Goodreads, or shelve it on Leafmarks, or proofread it or anything else.  None. At. All.

And readers are most certainly not obligated to lie for you, the author of a terrible book.

You know who you are.  I don't have to put your name out here for everyone to see.  You know who you are.

I've read your books.  Or at least I've tried to.  And they're terrible.  And you just can't stand to have that truth held up in front of you.  You just can't stand it.

Truth is a very powerful thing.  It can be painful, very painful, but if it has the power to hurt, then it must indeed be very powerful.

You will hate me, if you don't already, but you cannot stop me from being honest.  You can, like someone else about whom I dared to tell the truth, take revenge against me.  I already know, however, because I am capable of at least a certain amount of honesty with myself, that I cannot be anything but honest with others, especially if they are being dishonest in a way that would hurt the innocent.  I know, because I do try to be as honest with myself as I am with others, that this makes me Not a Nice Person.  I know that people will dislike me because of it.  I know that I have almost no defense against them or that revenge, because my only defense is the same damn honesty that got me into the mess in the first place.

Your book is terrible.  Whether you're so ignorant that you can't see it for yourself, or you're in total emotional denial, or you know it but you've decided to just lie about it anyway, the fact remains:  Your book is terrible.  But you want me to lie about it so someone else will buy it?  Is that the name of your game?  You want me to try to get someone to believe that they will be sufficiently entertained by this piece of tripe you have written and published so that they will fork over $2.99 or $3.99 or whatever the asking price is?  The only way anyone will think this piece of garbage is readable is if people lie about it.  People like me.   Well, no, not exactly.   People like me won't do it.  We won't lie.

What will you do then?  You can, if you so choose, pay people to lie about it.  You will pay them to post online that they loved your book, that it's the greatest thing ever written, that it should be made into a movie starring George Clooney, Orlando Bloom, Taylor Swift and Kim Kardashian.  Some people will believe those lies.  Most, however, won't.

Your writing stinks.  But you don't want anyone to point that out.  Rather than be honest and want honest "reviews" of your book, you want to silence the honest voices.  You throw up a litany of reasons why low ratings and negative reviews are by definition  invalid.  You think no one should read books they aren't enjoying, that they should not rate or review books they have not completely read, that they should think of the author's feelings and only review books they can give five stars to.  You declare only other authors are qualified to write negative reviews because they are the only ones who know how much blood, sweat, and agony goes into the writing of a book, any book.  And then you accuse any author who posts a negative review of being jealous and cruel and unsupportive of her "fellow authors."

By that standard, authors are only allowed to post positive reviews . . . or none at all.  And readers, who by that definition are disqualified from leaving negative reviews, can only post positive ones.

You want readers to lie by omission.  You want them to shut up and say nothing about your awful book, as though that will make your writing any better.  It won't.

Your book is indeed awful.  You can't write.  Your story is banal, your characters are wooden, your plot is implausible.  Your cover looks like something knocked together by a couple of 12-year-olds, and your formatting is an embarrassment to MSWord.  This product has no redeeming features whatsoever.

Yet if I say that, and if I provide evidence to substantiate my claims, you will call me a troll and a bully and a meanie.  You've done it in the past.  You will accuse me of jealousy, and I will laugh hysterically because there is no reason for someone who is reasonably competent with the English language to be jealous of you and this file of putrescent gibberish that you call a book.

You will tell me that I should think of your tender feelings, but I should not care at all about the potential readers to whom my silence is a lie of tacit approval.  Those readers are nothing to you, or at least nothing more than their credit card numbers on their one-click accounts.  To you they have no feelings worthy of respect, worthy of honesty.

You want me to be what I am not.  I am not a liar.  And I will not lie for you. 

A few people stood up with me when I took on Goodreads (which is well on its way to becoming nothing more than the advertising arm of Amazon if it isn't already) but most did not.  A few have spoken out since my banning, but most of gone back to their previous silence.  It is one thing to "take one for the team" by reading and then reviewing a terrible book, because of course that is done voluntarily and there are a lot of laughs to go around in the process.  And one really doesn't take any kind of risk when doing that.

I took one for the team over and over and over.  Under my real name.  The blog posts are still on Booklikes.  And here.  And there are screenshots of many of the now-erased posts on Goodreads.

I put my Goodreads account on the line in the name of honesty.  I am not one to blow my own horn when it comes to my books, but I will blow my horn 'til the cows come home over what I did on Goodreads:  I documented the dishonesty.  And that's what I was banned for.

The excuse that will probably be given, if there ever is one, is that I wasn't nice enough.  And that much is true.  I wasn't nice.  I was honest, but I wasn't nice.

When authors came onto Goodreads threads and asked whether or not they should buy reviews, I was honest:  I told them they shouldn't.  I told them those reviews might be removed.  I told them those reviews could be identified and then their books would be labeled as "This one is so bad the author has to pay people to pretend they read it."

Could I have been nicer?  Could I have written, "Oh, dear, I don't think that would be a very good idea.  What if people found out you bought those reviews?  What would they think of your book?  What would they think of you?"  Yes, I suppose I could have written it that way.  Would it have got the point across?  Maybe, or maybe not.  Would it have been me? 

No, it would not.

I understand the allure of reviews.  I recognize that they are repeatedly touted as the key to making sales.  One has only to read the posts of the frankly desperate authors who beg for reviews because reviews are, they believe, needed to generate sales.  They believe this as surely as they believe night follows day.  Except that night really does follow day; unfortunately, reviews do not generate sales.

Amazon, however, has a vested interest in fostering that belief. 

Amazon wants people to keep uploading books.  The cost to Amazon is negligible, since they do none of the actual work of publishing.  They do not edit, provide artwork, or market those author-published works.  They do, however, get a cut of each one that's purchased.

Though these are rough numbers and there are exceptions on all, these are the basic figures.  On a 99-cent Kindle book, the author's royalty rate is 35%.   Amazon keeps 65 cents off the top, the author gets 34 cents.  The same percentages hold up to $2.98.  At $2.99 and up, the author can elect a 70% royalty, which means Amazon's cut is 90 cents plus they charge a few cents to cover the cost of digital storage and delivery. 

Amazon is much better positioned to cover the minuscule costs of those thousands of free downloads than the authors are, even the perma-free titles.  Will that benefit someday disappear?  I expect it probably will, but that's another discussion.

So who benefits from the Kindle Direct Publishing platform the most?  Amazon.   And it doesn't matter how good or how bad the product is, Amazon still gets a cut.

Crappy books do not sell.  Not even hundreds of glowing 5-star reviews can push crappy books into best-seller status -- and profits for the authors.  Some of you who are reading this are very well aware of what you've done to rack up those reviews and ratings.

Have you given the books away free and then asked readers to leave a review?  Have you used social media to make friends with your readers, in Facebook groups or on Twitter, on Goodreads and Amazon and Booklikes, and then solicited just a short review from them, telling them how much it would help you?  Did you make them feel obligated to do so?  Of course you weren't really pressuring them.  You just sort of left the suggestion in their minds, and they of course being flattered were more than eager to do so.

Why is it then that the next book, the one you didn't give away free and didn't pressure readers to buy and read, didn't get hundreds of 5-star ratings on Amazon and Goodreads?  Why do you suppose that is?  Maybe because people didn't like it?  Maybe they lied in their reviews on the first book because they'd been flattered by your attention, but in reality they knew the book was garbage?

Amazon doesn't care why your second book didn't sell.  Or your third, fourth, or any of the subsequent titles.  Did it ever occur to you that maybe Amazon is using you as their loss leaders to put the competition out of business?  Probably not.  Probably not any more than it ever occurred to you to read the 1- and 2-star reviews that were left for your crappy books on Amazon and Goodreads, on Leafmarks and Booklikes.

Nor does Amazon care if you buy reviews.  Many of you do, of course.  Many of you have been caught red-handed on fiverr.com.  Many of those reviews have been removed from Goodreads and the reviewers' accounts have been terminated, but very few of you have lost your author status there, unless like Michael Beas and Cheryl Persons you were also selling reviews on Goodreads.  But do you remember how this paragraph started?  "Nor does Amazon care if you buy reviews."

Amazon doesn't care because they've got that wonderful "Verified Purchase" button.  It's supposed to imply that the accompanying review is a legitimate consumer opinion, the kind that's required under Federal Trade Commission guidelines.  There are probably a lot of genuine consumers who trust that label.  But you've figured out a way around that, which is exactly what Amazon wanted you to do.  So now when you buy your "reviews" from fiverr and the other shill outfits, you buy another "gig" so the reviewer can buy your book and get that "Verified Purchase" stamp.  And Amazon gets their cut and they're happy to turn a blind eye to the transaction. 

How's that working for you?  Two fiverr gigs are going to cost you $10.  On your $2.99 book you'll net roughly $2.00.  You'll get that back when the reviewer buys your book, and then you have to hope they don't return it and pocket the extra $2.99.  Even if they honor the agreement and don't ask for a refund, that review has to generate four more sales just for you to break even.

Amazon got 90-some cents for doing pretty much nothing.  That's why they don't care if you buy reviews that say your paranormal YA chicklit book is better than Tolkien and Herbert and Martin and Gabaldon and Rowling all wrapped up together even if anyone with more than twelve functioning brain cells can see it's absolute dreck.  Amazon has a vested interest in not caring about, well, about honesty or integrity or ethics or quality or any of that bullshit.  Honesty and integrity and ethics aren't profitable.  And Amazon, like all corporations, is all about profit.

None of the Amazon accounts identified as belonging to fiverr "reviewers" have been removed from Amazon by Amazon.  None of their reviews have been removed by Amazon.  Some of those individuals attempted to establish new Goodreads accounts but were quickly identified and quickly removed.  However, Amazon doesn't remove them.  Even though Amazon's review guidelines explicitly state that paid reviews are a violation, no amount of reporting "abuse" will get them removed.  I know this because I've reported them.  Repeatedly.  They're still there.

During the months that I routinely monitored Goodreads and Amazon reviews to connect them with fiverr "reviewers," I came to be very familiar with the names under which they posted their reviews.   They're still posting.  That means you're still buying. 

And yes, in case you're wondering, I'm still monitoring.  I'm still taking screen shots, though not as many as I did before.  And of course I'm not reporting to Goodreads.  Why should I?

I already took one for the team, a big one.  I did my part.  Now it's someone else's turn, if they care enough that it.  My guess is that they don't.

Does that mean you're in the clear?  Well, maybe it does and maybe it doesn't.  Maybe I'll get angry enough with you again and start posting more screenshots to Booklikes.   Because remember,  I'm not a nice person.  I have no reason to be nice any more.  My being nice or not nice really has nothing to do with it, does it?  No, the real issue is that I'm honest, and you just can't stand that.  You just can't stand it at all, can you.

Maybe you're one of those authors who self-righteously brags that you never bought a review and you didn't stoop so low as to give your books away to anyone.  You put time and effort into your books and you don't think you should let someone benefit from your effort without, by God, paying you for the right to read it. 

But when I look at your book on Amazon, I see more familiar names.  No, not fiverr shills but the names of other authors, other self-publishing authors, other self-publishing authors who have been desperately looking for people to buy and read and review their books and they'll do the same in return.  It's different, you insist, when you agree to swap honest reviews with each other. 

You and I both know those reviews aren't honest in the least.  You and the other author are going to stroke each other's egos because you're afraid that if you don't tell him his steaming pile of manure is the next Hunger Games, he'll retaliate and let the world know your book isn't the next Interview with a Vampire.  Both of you believe that 5-star reviews will generate sales, and that's what it's all about.  You're no different from Amazon in that respect (pun intended).  You don't care one fig about honesty.  You only care about sales.  You will lie, and you will ask someone else to lie, in the name of selling your terrible, terrible book.

The CJRR continues -- that nefarious group of self-publishing authors who rate each other's absolutely suckworthy spewings with unalloyed 5-star ratings and attack anyone who dares do otherwise.  The sockpuppet ratings continue unabated.  The fiverr shills haven't missed a beat.  It gets worse instead of better on Goodreads and Amazon, because that's the way Amazon wants it.

Readers may ask, "But why?  Why does Amazon want to promote crap?"

Because it sells.  If it doesn't sell itself, it at least sells advertising.  Every time a reader clicks on a free book, other items pop up.  Try it sometime.  Recommended.  Readers who bought this also bought.  And so on.  And Goodreads is just an advertising platform for Amazon.  So Goodreads doesn't really care either.

They cared a little bit for a little while.  They cared long enough to remove a few of the shadier accounts.  Michael Beas with more than 350 purchased reviews.  "Meghan" from Manila with almost 800.  The publicist and her sock puppet army who had over 2500 5-star reviews posted on Goodreads.  Did someone from Amazon come along and tell the Goodreads staff that they had to axe Linda Hilton's account because Linda Hilton wasn't being nice? 

Did Amazon not like it that I was posting screen shots that linked Amazon "Top Reviewers" to fiverr accounts? 

Were publicists like Kelsey McBride buying enough ads for their clients on Goodreads and Amazon that those websites took the cash over ethics to let those publicists, their employees, their sockpuppets, continue to post reviews in violation of FTC regulations and didn't want Linda Hilton to publicize (pun intended) that information?

Yes, I'm angry at you uploaders -- you're not really authors at all -- because you've fouled the nest we all need to live in.  I despise you, and I know the risk I'm taking even in posting this screed.  Amazon is big enough and powerful enough, and I am insignificant enough, that they could refuse to publish my books.  Believe me, the loss of my sales wouldn't hurt them financially.  (Actually, it probably wouldn't hurt me financially very much either.)  If they do that, you'll know and I'll know that what I've written here is important enough for them to want to silence me. 

They don't go out of their way to silence the insignificant.  Honesty is never insignificant.  It's too dangerous to be insignificant.

When the words are big and fat and free . . . and good

Disclaimer:  I was never able to get into the Outlander gush.  There is a specific reason for this, and it's immaterial to this blog post.  I think I read about the first 50 pages and gave up.  I've never read any of the sequels, and don't have any desire to.

At any of the RWA national conferences I attended, one of the most exciting parts was the "goodie bag" handed out at registration.  These tote bags, usually with the conference logo blazoned on the front (along with some bookseller's ad copy) were crammed full with lots of freebies, especially books.  This was a good place for publishers to unload several hundred copies of remaindered paperbacks or new releases they were hyping.  The 1991 conference in New Orleans brought us all a big surprise, and I do mean big.  Ed Sullivan type really big.  A gorgeous, fat hard cover novel by an author none of us had ever heard of:  Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon.

There was no hype with it.  As far as I know, Gabaldon was not even a member of RWA at the time.  She did not speak at the conference, and her publisher provided no other advertising information.  We wondered what the heck was going on, that the publisher would hand out 1500 or so free copies of what looked to be a very expensive book.

A year or so later, many of us received free copies of the first sequel, Dragonfly in Amber.  Again, that was it, the book and nothing more.  By then my daughter had read Outlander and loved it, so I gave her both books.  She still has them to this day.

No one was asked to review the books, like them on Facebook, upvote them on Amazon, retweet their praises or downvote any trolls who didn't love them.  Obviously not, because there was no Facebook or Twitter.  "The web" was still four years in the future.

So how did the Outlander phenomenon develope without the aid of cyber hype? 

Very simply:  Gabaldon wrote a book, told a story, created characters that readers cared enough about to tell their trusted friends.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, sells a book like the book itself. 

As I wrote elsewhere and can't repeat often enough:

To parody the credit card commercial:

Review swap from fellow author? Free

5-star review on Goodreads? $5

Review and "Verified purchase" on Amazon? $10

Honest review from a genuine reader who tells her friends how wonderful your book is?

Priceless

You can buy all the Goodreads reviews and Facebook likes and Amazon upvotes and retweets and pins you want; you can't "buy" readers.

They aren't for sale at any price.

Write a book they love, however, and they'll pay you.

Tracking the words to their source

Okay.  So most of you are aware of The Big Kerfluffle over on Goodreads regarding the matter of negative reviews, offensive shelf names, and so on.  At the moment there are over 1,000 responses and I'm sure more will be coming in as the week-end progresses.  (And now, as of Monday morning, over 2100.)

It ought to be interesting, to say the least.

Since I came to this space and staunchly defended Goodreads just a few weeks ago, I feel I'm entitled to spew a few more words on why I think the new policy is all wrong.

Remember, I'm old.  I remember very well the days before the Internet, the World Wide Web, Amazon, digital publishing, and especially digital self-publishing.  I'm not alone, and I'd love to hear from other people who have lived through The Great Leap Forward.

But in those old days before KDP and Smashwords, readers went to a bookstore and bought a book, read it, and then maybe chatted about it with their friends.  Maybe they had a local book club, or they were just a couple of neighbors who got together over a cup of coffee to talk books and swap a few.  They'd put codes or comments inside the front cover -- "Hot!"  "Elaine loved it."  "♥♥♥." -- to mark the books they've read and their opinions when they took the book to a used bookstore or swapped with friends.  If they were readers of serious literature, they might check out the reviews in the newspaper or major magazines, but if they were readers of genre fiction, they'd have to rely on genre-specific magazines for any reviews at all.  Publishers Weekly and other trade magazines did not review genre fiction. 

Readers rarely met the authors of the books they read unless there was a booksigning, usually for only one author, or maybe a few.  Conventions -- or "cons" -- organized by and/or for the fans of a specific genre might bring a bunch of authors together for an event.  Readers brought their treasured "keeper" copies to have them autographed, and they got to visit with the author for a few minutes or listen to her speak at a seminar, but other than that, there was little direct interaction between writers and readers.

Also, there was an entire publishing apparatus between the writer and the reader:  Publisher, editor, graphic designer, bookseller, publicist, etc., etc., etc.  That apparatus not only provided a physical moat, if you will, between the book as it emerged from the writer's writing instrument of choice, but it provided gatekeeping for the quality of the work into the marketplace.  The reader knew that if she bought a book published by Crown or Baen or Avon or Signet or any of the other established publishers, it would be readable.  It might not be to her liking, but it would be written in mostly recognizable English, have reasonably competent printing and binding, and so on.

The only people who might get hit with promotional materials for a forthcoming book would be the booksellers, who might be showered with flyers and posters and bookmarks, which they could distribute to excited fans or dump in the wastebasket.  Then the books were distributed and they either sold or they didn't. 

Authors collected their royalty checks, if there were any, and stayed home to write their books.

Science fiction cons started the engaging of writers and readers, and that revolution was further incited by Kathryn Falk and Romantic Times magazine with her booklovers' conventions, and by Romance Writers of America.   Because RWA did not have any qualifications for membership, anyone could join and many fans did just that.  More than 80 percent of the membership was (and probably still is) unpublished; they were essentially fans who got to hobnob with their favorite authors and pretend to be on a par with them.

I was a member of RWA for over 10 years.  I attended enough RWA conferences to know how this worked, and it didn't always work to the benefit of the authors.  In fact, so many of the authors were unhappy with this arrangement -- as one said, "We always have to be 'on' for the fans, and they don't like it when they find out we're only human." -- that I started a separate group within RWA just for published authors so we could have our own conference without all the fans around.  It did not make me particularly popular with some factions of the organization.  But the Published Authors' Special Interest Chapter, born from an idea that popped into my head on the evening of Sunday, 13 October 1994, is still going strong.

This is a big picture issue, which is why I've brought all this history into it.  The background is essential to understanding why this recent decision of Goodreads' is wrong.

The self-publishing revolution changed all of the above.  The publishing apparatus was no longer necessary, so anyone could become "an author."  And any scribbling could become "a book."  The machinery for ensuring quality of the product had been removed as a necessity.  Of course there were still books being bought and published by traditional publishers, with all the gatekeeping and quality assurance systems in place.  But there was also another industry coming into vocal being.

Not only did the newly self-publishing authors have little to no experience with how the marketplace worked, they often didn't know how reading and readers work.  And that set the stage for confrontation.

Goodreads was originally established as a site for readers to list, catalogue, review, and discuss books.  Having a customer base of thousands and eventually millions of readers, the site attracted advertisers who pitched their books to potential readers.  Most readers don't want to chat with copy editors and proofreaders, and the site wasn't built for authors to interact with readers, so reviews and discussions remained pretty much focused on the content of the books.  There really wasn't much else to talk about.

Let me emphasize that again:  Reviews and discussions remained pretty much focused on the content of the books.  There really wasn't much else to talk about.

What changed, however, was the whole social media aspect that took over not only publishing but self-publishing. 

The author who self-publishes is often not only the writer of the words but the editor and proofreader, the formatter of the digital edition, the art director who chooses or commissions or even creates the cover art, the creator of the cover copy that accompanies the online listing, the publicist who hawks the book on Facebook and Twitter, Tumblr and ..... Goodreads.

The author is required, by her choice to self-publish, to fill all these roles.  She has to interact with readers in ways authors never did before.  Even if she doesn't plunge into social media with 100 tweets a day, the product she presents is much more hers than just the words.

If she does utilize social media -- including Goodreads -- to interact with her readers and/or potential readers, that action both is and is not the action of the author.  If she spams Twitter and Facebook with notices about her book, she as writer and as publisher is in control of that.  All of that is part of the book's production and distribution process.

In most cases this is a good thing.  But occasionally it's not.  And when it isn't good, it sometimes becomes horrible.

A new writer who has little writing skill, who knows nothing about the legalities of copyright and publishing and distribution, who has no agent or editor or PR assistant to manage her public behavior, who has filled her head with nonsense about how many millions of copies of her book are going to be sold, may be simply, completely, and totally unprepared for negative comments on her books.  She lashes out, creates a shitstorm, accuses people of things they never did, makes a lot of people angry, gets people to defend her based on the untruths she's told . . . . .

And then those untruths are taken as gospel, perpetuated through the social media over which she has no control, and yet readers aren't allowed to set forth the truth? 

That's what has happened with the announcement on Goodreads that reviewers may not review author behavior.

I have so far had one review removed by Goodreads.  Although I don't have a copy of that review, I know pretty much what it consisted of.

The book had received a lot of negative comments because of bad writing:  poor grammar, spelling, punctuation, and so on.  The author -- digitally self-published -- became incensed and wrote a blog post declaring she didn't care that she wasn't a good writer, had no intentions of learning how to write well, and the reviewers who called her on it could pretty much go screw themselves.  When she then got flak about that -- including my review, which cited the blogpost as my reason for even looking at the book and then reviewing it -- she deleted the blogpost.  She then flagged the review and it was hidden by Goodreads.  Friday, that review was removed.

Another of my reviews has been flagged.  That one I've copied and saved off the Goodreads site.  Again, the book was poorly written and any original review I might have written was solely based on the content and quality of the book as a product.  But the author had taken heat for the book's obvious lack of professional editing and proofreading, so she listed herself under another name as the editor.  She assumed a third name as co-author, and a fourth as illustrator.  A 10-minute search identified all these frauds.

The book did have several five-star reviews, but they all came from persons readily identifiable as either out-and-out sock puppets of the author, members of her family, or close friends who were named in the book.  When the accounts were identified and reported to Goodreads and subsequently removed, the author lashed out at reviewers.  How can this behavior, all directly connected to her writing, publishing, and promotion of the book, not be a legitimate subject for criticism?

Another of my reviews may have been flagged; I'm not sure yet, but it, too, has been saved off the site just in case.  Again, it's an instance where the author has engaged in mildly deceptive practices, has enlisted friends and family to denounce and verbally attack anyone who dares to criticize her book,  has created sock puppet accounts for herself to boost her own ratings.

A book, even a self-published book, is a product being sold in a marketplace.  Every aspect of that product should be material for possible criticism.  Is the cover art offensive?  Is the digital formatting impossible to read?  Is the book over-priced?  Is the author issuing revised editions every week, resulting in reviewers actually reviewing different material without even knowing it?

The Goodreads (partial) ban on addressing author issues related to books is very short-sighted, but it is also consistent with an entity that is only concerned with pushing product, not with guaranteeing the quality of the product.  By protecting the feelings of authors who really can't write anyway, Goodreads actively promotes bad writing and whiny authors.  By punishing the reviewers who dare to tell the truth, Goodreads is actively silencing ... everyone.

Does Goodreads allow trolling and bullying?  Yes, unfortunately, they do now.  But the trolls aren't even members of the site, and they are bullying the readers. 

They know who they are.

Sticks and stones? How 'bout words and cookies instead

Remember the old taunt from those long ago playground days?  "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me!"

Apparently there are some people (and they know who they are) who never learned the truth in that old saying.

So let's go back to that playground again and see what happens. . . . . .


Little Arthur goes to the playground with a bag full of cookies he baked.  He hands free ones out to the kids he sees at the playground.

Kid #1:  Gee, thanks!  (takes a bite)  Gawd, this is terrible!  It's so dry and hard and overbaked I can hardly chew it!

Kid #2:  (struggles to swallow)  I know!  It's like his mother didn't teach him how to test the oven setting or something.

Arthur:  But you didn't eat the whole thing!  You only ate one bite! 

Kid #1:  I don't need to eat the whole thing.  It's awful, and it isn't going to get any better.  It's a lousy cookie, for fuck's sake.  Did you even try one yourself?

Arthur:  I don't have to!  I know they're good!  I made 'em!

Kid #3:  (spits his out on the ground)  Ugh!  It's got coconut in it!  I hate coconut!  You shoulda warned me it had coconut in it!  I think I'm gonna throw up!

Arthur:  You guys are mean!  Those cookies took me all morning to bake!  and I gave 'em to you for free!  How dare you say you don't like them!

Kid #1:  They're still terrible!  I don't care if you took two weeks to bake 'em.  They suck!  Look, mine's all burnt on the bottom.

Arthur:  My mother told me she loved those cookies!

Kid #3:  Well, duh, that's what mothers are supposed to do. 

Arthur:  Why are you being so mean to me?  You're a bunch of bullies!  I'm going to sue you!

Kid #2:  Sue us?  For what?  'Cuz you made some overbaked coconut cookies that we didn't like?

Arthur:  You're ruining my career as a baker!  I'll have you all arrested and thrown in jail for a hundred billion years!

Kid #3:  Are you crazy or somethin'?  You wanta be a baker, then go home and learn how to bake good cookies.  Quit bein' a whiny little fuckwad and wasting our time.  It's not like these are the only cookies in town.


A week later Arthur comes back to the playground with another bag of cookies, which he hands out free.

Kid #1:  I'll pass.

Arthur:  You didn't even taste it!

Kid #1:  No, and I ain't gonna. 

Kid #2:  (takes a bite and spits it out) Holy shit, it's hard as a fuckin' rock!  This is even more overbaked than the last batch!  Christ on a crutch, Arthur, didn't you pay any attention to what we told you the last time?

Kid #4:  Here let me try one.

Kid #2:  Don't say we didn't warn you.  Arthur's cookies are shit.

Kid #4:  (takes a bite)  What the fuck?  I think I broke a tooth!

Arthur:  You're lying!  You didn't really break a tooth!  You didn't even take a bite!

Kid #4:  I couldn't!  The damn cookie's too damn hard!

Arthur:  (offering cookie to another kid)  Here, it's free.

Kid #5:  No way!  If all my friends think your cookies are this bad, I'm not touchin' 'em with a 10 foot pole.

Arthur:  (lies down in the dirt, screaming and kicking)

Moral of the story:  Books are like cookies, and authors are like bakers. 

No one laid a hand on Arthur; no one told him to put his hand in a blender or go hang himself.  They just didn't like his cookies. 

Arthur can pick himself up, dust himself off, and go home to learn how to make cookies people will like and eat and tell their friends about and pay real money for.  No one is stopping him.  Of course, in order to do that, he will have to admit that his cookies need improvement and maybe he needs some help.   Or, if he chooses to be a martyr, he can continue to writhe in the dust until the ants that are drawn to the cookies decide they're inedible and eat Arthur's eyes out instead.

the lowest thief of words there is

This is a short update to a previous post about plagiarizing reviews.

As I said at the end of that post, I will never ever forgive someone who steals another's words.  And if it's possible for one kind of theft to be worse than another, then I guess the theft of reviews is even lower than theft of a book or story or other original work.

Posting a stolen review on Goodreads or Amazon or your blog or anywhere else has absolutely no excuse.  None. 

There can sometimes be some justification for stealing bread or stealing money or stealing ... whatever, on the basis of need.  That, after all, is at the heart of so many classic stories, because there is an underlying injustice that creates the need that can only be satisfied through theft.

What is the underlying justification for stealing a review, for crying out loud?  There is no compensation involved to either party.  Is it ego, a need to be recognized and praised for one's contribution to the already enormous mountain of readers' responses to published works?  If so, then why steal?  Do you think you're not going to be found out?

Perhaps it is a genuine mental illness that requires professional treatment.  Perhaps.  Perhaps.  If so, then the person needs to find professional help -- or a friend or loved one needs to find it for her -- and get the problem taken care of.

Stealing a review is a conscious act.  It's not an accident, not when it happens a dozen times or more.  There is premeditation in the setting up of a user account, selecting the books to be "reviewed," and then choosing which reviews to actually steal.

How much more unforgivable can the theft be than when it is committed by a writer?  Does that writer not value her own words?  How would she feel if her words, her creation, her thoughts, her soul were stolen from her?

No doubt the account will be deleted from Goodreads,   If the reviews that have been stolen were also published elsewhere, on a blog or on another website, they will be identified and removed also.

When I wrote in another previous blog post that it's okay to write a review out of anger or revenge or spite, I meant it.  Sometimes there are authors whose behavior outside the pages of their books is so offensive that the reader just can't set it aside.  For me, one of those behaviors is stealing another person's words.  For me, that is simply not forgivable, and any author I learn has done it will be fair game for my revenge review.

DO NOT STEAL.  Period.

...And just a few discouraging words -- for reviewers

DON'T STEAL.

If you wanta be mean and nasty, if you wanta lie and cheat, if you wanta slash and burn, that's okay.  You hated the book, okay.  You don't like the author's politics or choice of  spouse, okay.  You'll never read the book but you'll give it 100 stars anyway, fine.

But do not steal another reviewer's review.  Just don't do it.

It's plagiarism, it's copyright infringement, it's stealing the soul of the person who wrote, who owns those words.

I love words, I love writing, and even if I don't like what they write, I have at least an understanding of what a writer goes through.  Writing a review of someone else's writing is still writing.

DON'T STEAL.

I will not forgive you.  Not ever.

Where seldom is heard an encouraging word. . . . for reviewers

I tend to address more of my blog posts to my fellow writers than to any one else, and I'm frequently scolding them for bad writing or bad behavior.  Today I'm going to look in the other direction.

Except when we're writing just for ourselves, we writers depend on you, our readers, to make our stories come alive in your minds and your imaginations.  It's our job to provide you with the tools -- the words -- to do that, and then it's your job to tell other readers whether we succeeded or failed.

No, it's not your job to tell us we didn't do it.  We had our chances to get critiques before we published.  We had the responsibility make sure the research was right, the words were right, the spelling was checked, the plot was seamless, the characters fully fleshed.  Regardless how you acquired the book -- free, purchased, ARC, contest give-away, borrowed from a friend or the library, even illegally downloaded -- you invested your time in reading it.  You have a right to your opinion because you made that investment.

Did you quit after the first page because the writing was so poor?  You have a right to say so.  You have a right to write a review that's longer than the portion of the book you read. 

Were you so enchanted by the story that you never noticed how often the Regency heroine referred to the mysterious lights "left on" in the tower window?  You have a right to say so.

You're allowed to say you didn't like the cover, that you're tired of characters named after objects like Link and Star and Storm and Blade.  You're allowed to be snotty and snarky and mean.  By the same token, you can gush and give it five stars (or whatever the highest ranking is) just because it's set in Paris and there's a dog in it somewhere.

Readers and reviewers can write revenge reviews.  Is it kinda juvenile and silly to do so?  Yeah, I suppose so.  But we writers need to understand and accept that readers have all kinds of reasons for reading (or not reading) a book, for liking (or not liking) a book, and for liking (or not liking) an author.  When we put our books out there and ourselves with it, we are inviting you to read them and we should not think that we have any control whatsoever over the reasons that motivate a person to pick up a book and read it.  That includes anger or resentment or jealousy or spite.

Do you owe us anything?  Nope.  Nothing.

You don't owe us a review or a rating at all.  You don't owe us a critique.  You don't owe us a reading of the whole book.   You don't owe us perfect grammar or spelling.  First of all, you don't owe us anything because any review that you write isn't for us anyway.  Reviews are for other readers.  And it's okay to tell other readers that you couldn't get past page one.  There are some really crappy books out there, and you shouldn't be surprised if you encounter a few.  It's okay to tell other readers the author can't write her way out of a wet paper bag.  Your job as a reviewer is not to be kind to the writer who threw that garbage; it's to let other readers know you think it's garbage.  Reviews are for other readers.  It's okay to correct each and every grammar error.  It's okay to fill your online review with pictures and GIFs and videos and music and whatever else you want. 

You didn't hang over our shoulders and tell us how to write our books.  And we damn sure shouldn't be hanging over your shoulders telling you how to read them or how to review them. 

Dear readers and reviewers, please don't ever be intimidated, harassed, or threatened by an author (or her friends, fans, or sockpuppets) who tries to tell you what's wrong with your review.  Tell 'em to sod off.  And if they won't, then tell 'em I told you to tell 'em there's no such thing as a stupid question, and there's no such thing as a wrong review.  There is no "right" way to review and there is no "wrong" way to review.  There is only your way.

Not liking  a book, for whatever reason, does not make you a bully.  Telling the author not to quit his or her day job does not make you a bully.  Pointing out errors of fact does not make you a meanie or a troll.  Reviewing a book you couldn't get past page 3 does not make you a criminal.   You don't have to provide constructive criticism, and you don't have to be gentle with the tender sensibilities of the writer.  If she didn't think she could take criticism, she shouldn't have  published the thing. 

You, the reader/reviewer, do not have to have perfect grammar and spelling.  (Although if you correct someone else's and you're wrong, well, be prepared to have that pointed out!)

You don't even have to review.  Did the author give you a free copy in exchange for a review?  If there's no contract involved, if there's no exchange of benefits, you don't have to do it.  Can the author get mad and not give you any more free books?  Yeah, she can.  But she also needs to know that readers are not obligated to do . . .  anything. They don't even have to read it.

But by the same token, don't be afraid to say you really liked a book that others found fault with.  Some of us are really picky readers.  Maybe it's because some of us are also authors and we do tend to look for and see the technical problems more often and more easily than the casual reader.  Maybe some of us are just jealous meanies out to destroy some poor writer's career.  (I highly doubt that, but it's possible.)   But maybe readers just didn't like that book and you did.  If you liked the book everyone else hated, that's okay, too.  Something in that book touched you, and that's a good thing.  You don't know how many other readers out there might be just as touched by that element, that style, that setting, that. . . . whatever.

And yes, there are readers and reviewers who love everything they read, who never have a criticism, who dole out 5-star ratings like candy corn at Halloween.  Are they being dishonest?  I don't know.  Maybe they really do love everything they read in all genres and all styles.  Maybe they really do.  Maybe their mothers taught them if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all and they took it to heart.  Maybe they're just uncritical readers.  Maybe they want a lot of free books to sell on eBay.  Maybe they're greedy for fame as a top reviewer on Amazon or Goodreads.  Maybe they're frustrated writers who are living vicariously.  Maybe they just want to be loved.

But as far as I know, they have a right to do that, too.  Readers are savvy people, and they'll figure out which reviewers to pay attention to and which to ignore.  Remember that:  Readers are savvy people.  They'll quickly figure out if you're reviewing just for the sake of reviewing or if you're a good analyst whose judgment they're going to trust when making their own book buying decisions.

Oh, to be sure, there may be guidelines set up by the place you're posting your review, and those have to be adhered to because the guys who provide the space do get to set the rules.   But it's still your opinion and your review.

Go for it!

A few words about a jacket

Several years ago I made myself a quilted jacket.

Most of the women in my circle of acquaintances had lots more money to burn than I, and they all had nifty little jackets to wear on chilly days.  I didn't have any such jacket, and certainly not a closet full of them.  So I searched the Internet for a design.   After I found several that I liked, I created a pattern that incorporated elements of each, and made myself a jacket.

The prototype turned out all right, but it wasn't perfect.  I knew where I'd made mistakes, where I should have made adjustments to the pattern to make it fit better.  But that's what a prototype is for -- to work out the bugs.

The first time I wore the jacket, someone wanted to buy it, literally right off my back.  I told her I could make her another, though it wouldn't be quite the same fabrics, but it would be better constructed, wouldn't have flaws.  She said she didn't care about the flaws. . . . . until I pointed them out to her.  A misplaced buttonhole.  A too-narrow seam.  I told her I wanted to make sure any jacket she got from me was properly made for lots of comfortable wear.  When I delivered the jacket to her a week later and showed her the improvements I'd made and how much better quality this was than the prototype, she thanked me for my honesty and promptly ordered another as a gift for a friend.

Not too long after that, some friends invited me to go with them to the local "swap meet," which is one of those big commercial operations with several hundred vendors hawking everything from belts to golf clubs to cactus gardens to artisan bread to surplus cosmetics to toys to books to you name it.  In one of the "shops" featuring imported clothing, we stopped to look at . . . jackets.  Some were actually quite similar to the design I had used, but of course close inspection revealed seams that were already coming apart, mismatched buttons, loose threads, poorly stitched hems.  Though the jackets were priced about 75% lower than the two I had made and sold, they weren't even worth that bargain price.  They didn't look like they'd stand up to a single hand washing; mine were made to be thrown in the washer and dryer with no special treatment.

As one of the women remarked when we walked away from the display, "You'd think people would have more pride than to put that kind of junk out for sale.  And why would anyone buy that crap?  I'd be afraid it'd fall apart the first time I wore it."

And that's even taking into consideration that the people selling it are not the people who made it.

But I replied to her, as someone whose arts & craft products (Remember?  I make jewelry and stuff) directly competes with that flea market merchandise, "Many people don't know any better.  The stuff is cheap, and they buy it because they can.  And when it falls apart, they shrug and go out and buy another."

So there's all this cheap junky clothing in our flea markets and our stores, and thousands of women die because someone has to make an obscene profit off it.  No one seems to deny that a lot of it is garbage, and yet neither is anyone driving that point home: People die so other people can buy garbage.  And we know this doesn't make any sense, so why do we do it?  And I don't want anyone to think I'm blaming the workers for producing a shoddy product.  They do what they're told with the material and equipment they're given.  And if the boss says to cut the seams a quarter inch narrower to save a bit of fabric, they do it.  And if the boss says to set the sewing machine for eight stitches per inch to go faster instead of 12 to make a stronger seam, they do it. 

The point is, few will argue about the quality of the end product.  It's very often crap.  And that's the simple truth.  The colors fade, the stitching unravels, the buttons fall off, the zippers break. 

What's wrong with pointing out the obvious?

I happen to love the imported rayon dresses and skirts that are commonly found at the flea market, but I've learned to be very careful when buying them.  Often they have stains or fade streaks from being in the sun.  I check all the buttons, because even if I am perfectly capable of sewing on a loose one, I can't always match the missing ones.  And I'm not going to pay even $15 for something I essentially have to remake.

I don't buy appliances that don't work.  I don't by clothing items that are obviously poorly made.  I don't by rotten tomatoes or sprouted potatoes or moldy bread or bald tires.  Nor does anyone treat me like a leper for saying so.

But if I dare breathe a word about the absolute garbage that's being "published" these days by eager but woefully unskilled "writers," I'm called a hater, a bully, a scary troll, a jealous failed writer.  (Why would anyone be jealous of crappy writing?  Never mind.)

I don't care if it's a crocheted pot-holder (I've made more than a few of those in my lifetime) or an amethyst crystal wrapped in sterling silver wire (I've made quite a few of those, too)

 or a quilted jacket




or lathe-turned ironwood bowl

 or what it is.  If it's crap, it's crap.  Saying it's wonderful isn't going to make it so.

The meaning of the mean words

For something close to 30 years, I've been an admittedly harsh critic when it comes to writing.  I don't deny this, and I've never attempted to moderate my comments when asked for them.  And yes, I've received criticism for my harshness.  From my earliest experiences as a judge in RWA contests, reaction to my analyses has ranged from gratitude for an honest if painful review to outrage and accusations of bias and crimes against humanity.  It's all okay; I live with it.

Several months ago, an author whose work had elicited a one-star rating from me on Goodreads contacted me and asked for an explanation.  I had "shelved" the book in a variety of descriptive groups that indicated I thought it was poorly written.  Because I had not posted a review, she wanted to know why I had only given the book one star -- "I didn't like it" -- and whether or not my "poorly written" designation came from actually reading the book.

There is, of course, no requirement on the Goodreads site that readers post reviews along with their ratings.  Readers don't even have to rate the books, and they can "shelve" books however they wish.  Nor is it required that readers have read the book prior to rating, shelving, or reviewing it.  (How would they prove that they had?  Take a test?)

Now, I have frequently stated here and elsewhere that I don't believe authors should ever, ever, ever contact anyone who has reviewed, rated, shelved, or commented on their book unless they are specifically and explicitly invited to do so.  Therefore I politely but firmly told this author that I was not going to provide her with an explanation then, but that if I ever did so, it would be in a publicly available review. 

Her action was understandable.  The book was her first, and she had self-published it via Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing and via Smashwords.  This information was readily available from the book's front matter.  She was not rude in her request to me, nor did she post anything public about the exchange.  (If she posted one-star ratings to my books, I honestly don't know.  I pretty much pay no attention to those.)

The Amazon listing for her book had received half a dozen or so five-star reviews, several of which read like they'd been written by friends or family members.  The couple of one- and two-star reviews cited poor grammar and clichéd characters; one of those reviews was a variation on the "don't waste your time; even free this book isn't worth it."  That's not an uncommon remark made on self-published novels. 

I generally glance at the reviews, especially the negative ones, when I'm contemplating a digital purchase, but since the book had been offered for free, I wasn't too concerned.  I downloaded it, then glanced at the contents.

I was not favorably impressed with the writing, but at the time of posting the book to my Goodreads collection, I didn't have time to do a complete analysis, so I shelved it as poorly written, gave it one star, and moved on.  I heard no more from the author and I thought that was the end of it.

A few weeks ago, I learned that she had posted a comment on another books-and-readers-and-authors site in which she lambasted the refusal of a reviewer to justify their negative opinion of her book.  She described this person as what amounted to a serial review bully; I won't post the exact phrase because I don't want to give anyone the ability to locate the author via a search on the phrase.  Was she referring to me?  I don't know for sure.  I had never reviewed her book, only shelved and rated it. 

I've written a lot of words on this subject, and I really get upset that I find myself doing it again.  More than likely, the message is completely lost on those who need it most:  the authors who have somehow come into the belief that their work can never ever receive a negative review and that anyone who dares criticize it must be a mean bully, a sociopath, a jealous competitor, or something.

More and more and more of these authors are taking to the blogosphere, to Goodreads and Amazon's forums, to their own websites, and slamming any and all reviewers who are cruel and mean and malicious enough to leave hurtful comments.

There are still comments being posted to Dear Author's thread from July 2012 regarding the efforts of some authors and fans and readers to silence negative reviews. 

I can understand authors having hurt feelings.  I can understand the disappointment of a bad review.  I've been there.  I've suffered through the rejection letters.  I've had publishers hold a manuscript for a year, sending me occasional encouraging updates, only to receive the material back with no explanation beyond a form letter rejection.  I've had bad reviews.  I've had malicious reviews and retaliatory shelving and one-star ratings from trolls.  I've been there, kids.  And I survived.

So what's different now from 20 or 30 years ago?  Is it, as I've blogged before, that some of these authors have never experienced any kind of criticism of their writing and just don't know how to handle it?  Personally, I think that's far more likely than another explanation, which is that they are the sociopaths and just have it in for anyone who dares criticize anything.

Reviews are for readers.  Not just for the people who have already read the book -- actually, that's a pretty stupid definition of "reader" -- but for readers who might buy the book, potential readers.  Any reader who has any experience with the book in question or with its author has the right to leave a comment.  On Amazon, on Smashwords, on Barnes & Noble, on Goodreads, on any other site where books are discussed.

Reviews are not for the authors.  I'm not sure how many times or how many ways I can write that.  Reviews are of material that's already been published.  The author has said she's done with it, it's ready to be read, and now she's moving on.

If she's not finished with it, if she's still looking for feedback, she shouldn't publish it. 

How difficult is this to understand?  Amazon and B&N and Kobo and Smashwords are all retail stores just like Target or Kroger's or FootLocker or Lowe's.  Customers go to them to buy products ready to be used.  And if the products don't perform as the customer expected them to, the customer has a right to complain, to demand a refund, to tell her friends and family about it.

Authors, your books are no different from tires or flashlights, sneakers or toasters, pillows or two-by-fours, ground beef or asparagus.  No one cares how much time you put into writing your stories.  If people cared about the labor involved in producing consumer goods, they wouldn't buy sneakers made in Chinese sweatshops.

And here's the thing:  I do care about the labor that's involved, in both the sneakers and the books.  I do my best to avoid buying goods made by companies that I know employ what amounts to slave labor.

But I also make an effort to instruct readers -- some of whom might also be writers -- what makes a good book.

When I read a book, regardless of genre, regardless whether it's fiction or non-fiction, I expect it to meet certain minimum standards.  I don't expect every book I read to be a five-star, and I have enjoyed many books that weren't, in the Goodreads rating system, "amazing!".   I also recognize that not all readers will like the same things I do, nor will they have the same standards.  I don't have any problem with that, either as a reader or as a writer.

I also know that the skills necessary to achieve those minimum standards are not beyond the capability of most people of average intelligence.  Basic English grammar and spelling and usage, basic story construction, basic factual research, and basic digital publication formatting are not difficult skills to learn.  They take some time and some effort to learn, and more time to master, but all of them are essential to the creation of an end product that will appeal to and satisfy the reading preferences of most reasonably educated potential readers.

When a writer chooses not to learn these skills, when a writer chooses to publish a product that fails to meet the reader's minimum standards, then that writer must accept the criticism the product receives.

I have tried, because I honestly do care about writers and helping them to write well-crafted, interesting, entertaining books, to put at least some information into many of my blogposts directly addressing issues such as punctuating dialogue or preparing an MS Word .doc file for Kindle Direct Publishing.  I've written some very very detailed critiques of samples of writing chosen specifically to illustrate concepts of what I consider good writing.

I have never, at least not intentionally, criticized any individual author as a person.  And I have advised and encouraged authors to separate themselves from their books.  Books are not children, not "babies."  Books cannot be killed or raped -- except by their own authors, of course.  A review is, for better or worse, the reader's opinion, and the author is always free to take any advice or ignore it.

Writers do not even have to read reviews, because reviews aren't written for them.  But if writers do read reviews, and especially if they read reviews of their own work, then they need to be prepared for the negative.

When I rip a novel to shreds -- and yes, I admit that I have done that -- it's because I believe the book deserves it.  Does the author deserve it?  Um, I don't really care.  She put the book out there as a finished product, and now it has to stand or fall on its own.  Can the author learn from it?  Yes, of course she can.  Will she be hurt by it?  Oh, probably, but she should have thought about that possibility before she published it.

There are ways to avoid bad reviews.  The two most obvious ones are:  Learn to write well, and don't publish until you learn to write well.

I am not going to stop writing "bad" reviews.  If your book is poorly written and it comes to my attention, there's a chance I will shred it.  It may be an object lesson for other writers as well as a warning to readers.  I don't care.  It may be the only negative review in a stack of five-star raves.  I don't care.  It may hurt your feelings and drive you to call me names.  I don't care.  It may enrage you and you'll rally your fans and friends and family to give my books one-star reviews.  I don't care.

What I do care about is my integrity.  I believe that anything I publish will be well-written, and if there are mistakes, I will own up to them.  I will never bash a reviewer, never threaten, never whine.  But by the same token, when I come across writing that I consider fails to meet my standards, I will reserve the right to shred it, to point out its flaws and weaknesses. 

Maybe other writers will learn from that.  Maybe other readers will see my reviews as helpful and honest and will "follow" my reviews on Goodreads.  Or maybe not.

But I will not lower my standards to spare the feelings of authors who cannot or will not take the time and expend the effort to at least learn how to construct a coherent sentence, compose a fluid paragraph, create an internally consistent plot.

If the author sees that as mean, then she is failing to put herself in the perspective of all the other potential readers she's trying to reach.  If the author sees that as potentially diminishing her sales, then she should have written a book that couldn't be shredded.  No one, absolutely no one, owes an author a living.  No one, absolutely no one, owes an author an apology for an honest review.

So to the little snowflakes whose feelings I have hurt and who are following me around the Internet, I don't know what you hope to accomplish.  Do you think I'm going to be nicer to you because you've done me some big honor?  Do you think I'm going to refrain from talking about your books because it might get back to you?  It's not going to happen.

Yes, I'm mean. Yes, I'm harsh.  But yes, I'm honest.  Deal with it.