Amazon’s Deleting Customer Reviews: So?

The New York Times had a story about Amazon.com’s purge of thousands of customer reviews from its website. Apparently, an author’s relatives lack the disinterest necessary for a valid evaluation of a book—but Amazon also doesn’t like to see authors reviewing books by their competitors. At least, that’s the way it seems; the actual process of removing reviews has been handled so nebulously that there’s understandable confusion and frustration about the whole thing.

Here’s the thing, though: People have been giving Amazon their book reviews for nothing. Why are they now so surprised that Amazon treats those reviews as worthless and disposable?

I’m not particularly invested in this subject—the only customer review I can remember writing for Amazon was back when I was still on staff, and a negative review I wrote was rejected as not fitting into the promotional campaign in which the book was included, but I didn’t feel like letting all my work go to nothing, so I put it up myself. Other than that, John Scalzi wrote a post recently that sums up my general feeling about providing content for large corporate websites: “Fuck you. Pay me.” Now, it’s true that Amazon doesn’t actually ask people to write for them for free; instead, people have been volunteering to share their opinions for more than a decade. Why? Because they like to share their opinions? Because they like the validation of having other people say their opinions are smart or helpful? Because they like pissing on the aspirations of creative people?

Those are three reasons; there are others. And, truth be told, those are also three of the reasons that people launch their own websites—sites like Beatrice—and freely share their opinions about books and writers. The difference is that here at Beatrice, I can share what I share, reaping all the non-economic benefits of my sharing (as well as some indirect economic benefits), and I don’t have to worry about somebody else deciding to cut me off because they aren’t getting enough out of what I do.

Look, I’m not a purist in these matters; granted, it’s been a year since I last updated my Goodreads, but that’s mostly because I’ve been too busy, not because I stopped believing in the site. I know Goodreads is making money selling ads next to our reviews and discussions, but I’ve found it useful enough to have the literary opinions of a group of people I trust bundled together that I don’t begrudge the company the revenue that makes such a bundling possible.

At Goodreads, though, it feels like (at least to me) there’s an equal emphasis on discovering people as well as discovering books. Even with the sideshow hoopla of customer review rankings, Amazon’s never felt to me like it cares much whether I find someone with a literary sensibility I trust—the customer reviews serve one purpose, and that’s to persuade me to buy books. (Even negative reviews, which ultimately encourage you to keep looking until you find a book you will like.) To me, Amazon customer reviews are noise, and the opinions of my friends on Goodreads are signal. So I honestly can’t get too worked up about Amazon deleting any number of its customer reviews, because I never really considered them worth anything, either.

24 December 2012 | theory |

Read This: Unholy Night & Season for Surrender

As some longtime Beatrice readers may recall, once Thanksgiving’s over, I like to read Christmas stories. This year, after a recommendation by my friend Sarah, I decided I wanted to check out Theresa Romain’s Season for Surrender. I actually started with Romain’s first novel, Season for Temptation, which was put forward as a holiday-themed story—with the tag line “Mistletoe can lead to more than kissing…”—but it turns out that the Christmas element only takes up a few chapters in a story that spans months. That story, about a young aristocrat who arranges an engagement to a suitable lady only to realize that he’s attracted to her younger sister (and she to him, although of course he doesn’t know that for a good long while), has a lot to recommend it, although it’s a bit rough around the edges in a debut novel-ish sort of way. The second time around, Romain seems to feel a bit more confident, and it makes for a much more sustained pleasure.

Season for Surrender picks up just about where its predecessor left off: Louisa, the unsuccessful fiancée of the first novel, is looking for some excitement in her life and accepts an invitation to a ten-day holiday party at the estate of Alexander, Lord Xavier. She accidentally overhears a conversation between Xavier and her cousin and learns that she’s the subject of a wager between the two of them as to whether she can last ten days in the company of such a notorious rake. So she decides to turn the tables on them… Meanwhile, Xavier, who was portrayed as a bit of a dick in the first novel, is now shown to be a sensitive fellow, ill at ease with the role he has come to play in society, but unsure of how to reinvent himself—or whether anyone would take him seriously if he did.

The slow burn of Louisa and Alex’s relationship is handled quite well, and the firm boundaries of the holiday period and the country estate also work in the story’s favor. I liked that Romain didn’t lean as heavily on the “unconventional aunt” character as she did in Temptation; Lady Irving is a fun character, but a little of her can go a long way—and with two leads this strong, the supporting cast can be used less to supply “color” and more as interesting personalities in their own right (some, admittedly, more interesting than others). I would actually recommend starting with this novel, then circling back to its predecessor if you want to spend some more time in Romain’s world.

(more…)

13 December 2012 | read this |