On Cabals and Pre-Apocalypses

Posted on March 4, 2011 by Phoebe 55815 Commentshttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.phoebenorth.com%2F2011%2F03%2F04%2Fon-cabals-and-pre-apocalypses%2FOn+Cabals+and+Pre-Apocalypses2011-03-04+07%3A03%3A36Phoebehttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.phoebenorth.com%2F%3Fp%3D558

So! Interesting day.

It’s difficult for me to even talk about this, to sum it up in a concise way. Writer Foz Meadows has a pretty good run-down of what the YA blog-o-sphere looked like today.

Go, read that. Then come back.

Here’s my role in all of this. Three years ago now, I started reviewing every book I read. Someone on metafilter suggested that a good way for fast readers to get paid small bucks for their work was to review for ALA Booklist. But you needed clips. So I started reviewing casually on GoodReads. Funny thing. I ended up loving reviewing, and loving the community I found there. And I never ended up sending those clips to Booklist.

I’ve talked before about how much reviewing has meant to me. All of that is still true. A few months ago, when I started getting ARCs, and, more, started reviewing works by people with whom I was a casual acquaintance, I took a long, hard look at my blogging and reviewing. Who did I want to be online? How did I want to present myself? Now, note that I’ve never been a particularly hateful blogger, though I have been frank in my reviews before. I knew that many aspiring authors choose to exude positivity in their public personas. I think that’s perfectly valid. But it didn’t seem true to myself, true to the person I know I am. Around this time, my mom was having surgery for her cancer recurrence and things were rough and I was at her house and read a copy of O magazine in the bathtub, and in it, Jay-Z was quoted as saying something like, “I decided I didn’t want to be famous as someone else. I decided it was only worth being famous if I was famous as me.”

And that sort of made my decision for me, you know? I decided to proceed largely as I have been. I must note that I’ve made some minor changes to my reviewing habits here on the blog–side barring only books I’d whole-heartedly recommend, removing star ratings (which I find reductive generally). But I’ve really wanted to continue the discussion as I’d been, and I have. Every book I’ve read to the end, you’ll find here on the blog.

When you review every book you’ve read for three years, it becomes a sort of logomania. Like, oh God, what would I be if I wasn’t my thoughts on books? But there’s something else here, too, a love of discussion, of sharing, of the genre in which I’m writing, of talking about what works and what doesn’t and how to make what doesn’t better. Again, no criticism of those who choose not to go about it like I do. But reviewing has been good to me, and I find it rewarding, and for the time being, it’s what I’m doing, a decision I’ve made. And I feel pretty zen about it.

So when all of this angst in the blogosphere started going down about writers/reviewers, it hurt. Not because it made me doubt what I was doing (because I’d made that decision, and it’s the right one for me, for the time being), but because I saw how people in my position, or positions like mine, were being made to feel pretty cruddy about the whole thing. It would usually go like this: author writers a post about how bloggers should just be nice or resign themselves to never writing fiction, authors’ colleagues and fans all agree, and tons of the reviewers get really, really upset about either specifics or the general feelings created by this kind of discourse.

And it just seemed to be getting worse. Every time authors would tweet to their friends about how terrible or unqualified reviewers were, bloggers and reviewers would see it, and feel horrible and stew. Every time there was a dust-up on somebody’s blog, or on a message board, likewise. Bad feelings, increasing exponentially. And I noticed something: how sometimes, an author would quietly disagree with the prevailing discourse, and there would be crickets in response. How reviewers and bloggers would talk about their feelings privately, but everyone was too scared to say something in public.

So I started reaching out. I emailed a few authors who said nice things about reviews, or reviewers, or these kinds of controversies. Just to let them know, I guess, that reviewers are around, listening, and that we appreciated it. I posted my opinion to blogs where I disagreed, where I thought it might be productive to share my perspective. That didn’t always go well, but still, I don’t regret it. I’m all about open and honest communication, talking things out. That’s my schtick. So I talked.

And, fuck, guys, I don’t know why I elected myself the person to reach out, except I knew that I felt firm and confident in my decision and prepared to live with the consequences. That being said, there might be other people who could have done so less awkwardly, or more eloquently, who wouldn’t misspeak or say something dumb or write typo-ridden comments (no matter how many times they proofread!) or totally misremember things and put her foot in her mouth. Because I’ve done that. The comment I made that Justine Larbalestier quoted contained at least one factual mistake and made Cleolinda Jones feel bad (I’ve apologized in both cases; at least I have no problem doing that!). And that sucks, and I wish I were better–more exacting, more excellent.

But I don’t regret speaking up.

One thing I’ve noticed, in all of this, is how, when conflict arises, many people feel inclined to talk to an audience they suspect is already receptive to them. That’s a natural inclination, I think–but it’s prickly online. GoodReads communities and twitter and author message boards aren’t private. People on both sides hear things that aren’t really intended for them but are out there in public anyway. I think we all should be careful. I think we should remember that EVERYONE HEARS EVERYTHING ON THE INTERNET. So be circumspect, okay? That doesn’t mean you have to be silent. It just means that you act with integrity, that you own your words and your actions.

And that goes for everyone.

Be excellent to each other.

Now that I’ve talked about this for fourteen hours straight (and Christ, am I tired), I just really want to change the subject.

So here, listen to me play my favorite ukulele-inappropriate song. On the ukulele. Badly. Cause that’s how I roll.