The thrill of release day...

If you mark a book's release day on your calendar these days, I'm willing to bet you're doing so because that is the day you plan on publishing a review of that book. Because you've probably already read it, right? All those advance copies showing up on your door step and on your Kindle mean that for a lot of book reviewers, we've read the latest and greatest novels long before they hit the bookstores. 

Consequently, we miss out on one of the greatest thrills known to bibliophiles around the world: THE THRILL OF RELEASE DAY. If you love books, even if you've been reviewing and reading advance copies for years, I'm willing to bet you've experienced the utter joy of planning your week around a highly anticipated book's release. Turning down social obligations on that day, maybe even taking the day off of work (don't you dare judge me), being able to rush down to the store on the day of a book's release, the thrill of having it in your hands, and then rushing home to revel in the experience of reading it (Should I read it all in one sitting? Should I pace myself to make the experience last longer?)...there are few joys in a book-lovers life like release day.

Sandy at You've Gotta Read This! makes the Costco loading boy open the boxes NOW

And even these thrills pale in comparison to the gala release days that books like J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series used to enjoy. Fans would routinely begin lining up at bookstores the night before dressed as their favorite characters while the bookstores, knowing good sales opportunities when they saw them, would open up at MIDNIGHT of release day and watch the sales go through the roof. Who says the printed word is dead?

A Midnight Harry Potter Book Release in San Francisco

As I look back on some of the great book releases of the past - not just the Harry Potter books - it seems to me a great way to mark your reading life. Even if the book turns out to be over-hyped and underwhelming (yes, I'm talking about you, Night Circus) it's still an experience worth talking about later.

To only read advance copies is to deprive yourself of the unique thrill that only release day of a book special to you can bring. So every once in a while, circle the release date on your calendar - but skip the advance copy. Join the party. And now excuse me as I'm off to grab my copy of Stephen King's new novel Mr. Mercedes. After all, as I type this, it's release day and I've cleared my schedule for the day.

I'd be curious to hear if anyone else has any memorable release-day moments?

Why I will no longer be reviewing Crown books

I had a terrific review scheduled for today. I had planned to feature Pulitzer Prize-winning author Kai Bird's highly-anticipated new non-fiction THE GOOD SPY, a fantastic portrait of CIA spy-extraordinaire Robert Ames, one of the most important U.S. operatives in the Middle East whose tragic death in the 1983 Beirut Embassy bombing may well have changed the course of history.

But I'm interrupting our normally scheduled programming to talk to you about something else. I'm going to talk about book reviews. And I'm going to talk about Crown Publishing. Specifically, I'm going to talk to you about how Crown Publishing puts their books into the hands of book reviewers. As many of you know, book bloggers receive their books from a myriad of sources. Personally, I review books that I've purchased, books that I've grabbed from the library, and books that are sent to me ahead of publication by various publishers. 

Recently, Crown Publishers made the decision to switch from sending advance copies of books (including e-books) to reviewers to a new program called Blogging for Books. I'd heard a few rumblings through the grapevine about this program over the past couple of months, chiefly from book reviewers concerned about certain restrictions with the program, but I wasn't too concerned about the change. After all, Penguin has their own in-house program that I find wonderful. Another long-time program through Amazon, the Vine Program, also has reasonable restrictions (ie, you must actually write your reviews before you order new books). And as an admitted introvert, I'm always happy with programs that reduce actual human contact with publishers and publicists, boiling it all down a few clicks on a website with the books I'd like to review.

Clearly, I approached Crown's new program with an open mind. 

My first clue that something might be amiss came as I signed up for the Blogging for Books program. According to Crown Publishers, what books I would be offered would be entirely dependent on my Klout Score. 

At this point you might want to plug your ears. Because my verbal response to my computer was probably what you'd expect: "What the FUCK is a Klout Score?" 

Okay. I'll bite. I followed the link. As it turns out, Klout is a website designed to "measure" your online influence. They do so via your Twitter, Facebook, Google+, and Instagram accounts by - from what I can gather - measuring the responses your posts garner. It then does the hoogly-googly math and comes up with something called your KLOUT SCORE. And this is what Crown Publishers use to decide whether you are a SOMEBODY and therefore worthy of them allowing you to review one of their books, or a NOBODY and not worthy of even gazing upon their hallowed works. Crown lets you know right away that the higher your Klout Score, the better books that will be made available for you. (It is at this point that I felt a little bad for the authors whose work was made available for those with the low Klout Scores -- I mean, how bad is that? Even your own publisher knows that they can't give your book away to the loser bloggers, geez.)

Right away, I figured out that their Klout Score formula was utter crap. How did I figure this out? Because mine was so high. Yep, that's right. According to Klout, I am extremely influential. I nearly spewed my coffee on the keyboard because we all know I have about five loyal blog readers here. But because I can spout off a political rant on Facebook and garner a bazillion "LOL"s each time, Klout measures that and deems that I am a VERY INFLUENTIAL PERSON. Way to go, Crown. But Crown's sign up told me that if a blogger had a Klout Score greater than 60, well then, they would have all doors open to them. A Reader's Respite blew that 60 out of the water. [Eye roll]

Now that we've determined how VERY INFLUENTIAL I am, let's move right along. Crown said I had a lot of books to choose from but at the time I'll admit I only took a cursory glance. I happened to spot a novel that I had heard some good things about called BITTERSWEET and so I went ahead and ordered it. 

It took over two weeks for the book to arrive. After reading the book, as I prepared to return to the Blogging for Books website to write my review, a friend and fellow book reviewer urged me to closely read the fine print --- you know, the part where Crown Publishers lays out their review requirements. I did so and was more than a little disturbed by what I found. Perhaps I was shocked because I am a book reviewer who strongly, STRONGLY feels that the reviewer is in no way beholden to the author, publicist, or publisher in any way, shape, or form. Not only is there no guarantee of a glowing review - only an honest one - but there is no obligation to be a one-person publicity storm for that book either.

Here is how Crown Publisher's would like you to write your review:

Your review needs to be at least three paragraphs long. It must be original and thoughtful. If your reviews are determined to be of poor quality (too short, typos, not thoughtful, etc.) your account will be suspended. Here are a few examples that make up a strong review:

• Sharing specific examples/quotes that you enjoyed
• Talking about how the book moved or impacted you
• Creative and original reviews
• Embedding book trailer videos, links to purchase or embedding the first chapter on www.Scribd.com (all first chapter excerpts should be up on Scribd).
• Including a photo of the book in your review (we automatically email you a link to download the cover after you select a book to review).
• Coming up with a question for your readers to answer at the end of your review (they'd respond in the comments section).

Now, I didn't want to get too worried. After all, some folks might indeed need a little guidance writing a review, especially if they were new to the whole book reviewing gig. And Crown does specifically state - and I want to be clear on this - that a positive review isn't required:

Yes, we ask for an honest review. We realize that you may not enjoy or agree with some books. However, we hope that our publishing standards mean that each book will have at least something for everyone to enjoy. Also, if you have a negative review to post, please be specific in what you did not like about the book. Please don't just put "I didn't like it," rather, share specific quotes from the book and talk, at length, as to what you disagree on or what you didn't like.

That sounds reasonable. Right? Sort of? I tried to put the best spin on it as I continued reading the fine print, which told me that I must wait a minimum of five days between the time the book is shipped to me and writing my review (no problem there since the book took two damned weeks to arrive) because:

This is in place in order to keep evil-warlord-book-hoarding bloggers at bay (yes, they're real).

Yes. That is an actual quote from Crown's fine print. Nice, huh? Don't you feel like they are cultivating a warm and fuzzy relationship with book reviewers everywhere?

Moving right along....by the time I had read all of this fine print and discovered all the uncomfortable restrictions I was bound to, the damned book arrived and I was contractually committed. (Worse, the book wasn't awful, which was somewhat of a disappointment because I would have loved to have written a scathing review at this point. Alas, that honest review thing came into play again.)

And so the day arrived when I actually wrote the review. Off I toddled to Blogging for Books to perform my contractual duty. Logging into my account, I diligently posted my four-star review of BITTERSWEET. The site accepted my review and then required me to post a link to my blog where I had posted the review. That is odd, thought I. I've never seen a review program that requires the review to also be posted on a blog. Amazon Vine and Penguin Books certainly do not. (In case you're wondering, I posted the review to my Tumblr blog - there is a link on the sidebar.) 

The site then required me to post a link to a COMMERCIAL BOOK SELLER SITE (ie, Amazon, Powell's, and independent book store) where I had posted the review. Whoa. Wait just a freaking minute here. Since when am I required to sell their books for them, too? Recommending their books is one thing. Selling them on a commercial website? No. I never agreed to do that.

It gets better. Once I had submitted all that, the site actually required me to post my review to Facebook or Twitter. I kid you not. 

Crown Publishers has crossed over the ethical line here. And if you review books, you're likely to experience Crown's hard sell, too. Book reviewers who use e-book services such as Edelweiss will now receive the following message when requesting any Crown book:

Thank you for your interest in this book! We recently re-launched our blogger based website Blogging for Books where you can receive free books in exchange for honest reviews. For more information and to join this program, please visit www.bloggingforbooks.org.

My hope is that this adequately explains to you why you will no longer be seeing any Crown books reviewed on A Reader's Respite. Oh you might think that with all the purchased and library books that I read and review that you'd be seeing some Crown books pop up there, wouldn't you? No, I'm sorry to say, you won't. Until Crown Publishers backs off with the unethical review requirements, it's my belief that any review of a Crown book is suspect at best. And so I won't be offering any until their policy changes.

I'd offer to return to our normal programming at this point, but THE GOOD SPY is, unfortunately, a Crown Publishers book. Tune in tomorrow when we will be featuring a review of a book not published by Crown.

********************

UPDATE:  Please see what Crown's reaction has been

TRIGGER WARNING

According to a recent article in The Guardian, the students at University of California, Santa Barbara are formally requesting that certain books come with "TRIGGER WARNINGS." Oh, yes. It's true. Certain books, they claim, have content that is "distressing" and therefore, needs to come with a warning. Kind of like a pack of cigarettes. Books such as Mrs. Dalloway, The Great Gatsby, and Things Fall Apart - they claim - have content that might trigger a bad emotional reaction in certain individuals. Therefore, they ought to be warned. On the book cover.

For those who have never heard the term, a trigger warning is something that has traditionally been applied to something like a website or a discussion thread --- for similar reasons. Victims of rape, recovering addicts or those getting over eating disorders, cutting, etc....exposure to certain topics at critical times during their recovery can be harmful. And many times, dancing on into a website or wandering into a discussion thread there is no warning whatsoever of what you might find. A book, I'll argue here, is quite a different matter.

Now, before you go hating on California college students, please do be aware that UC is not the first or only university to be proposing these TRIGGER WARNINGS on books. Rutgers, University of Michigan, George Washington University, and Oberlin College are but a few of the other institutions of higher learning in America that have proposed this very thing.

But let's take a closer look here, just to see what it is we are dealing with. Clearly the proposal has good intentions. Someone, somewhere is concerned that the content in these books might cause another human being distress. Caring is a good thing. Most of the time. What they are proposing, however, is that each TRIGGER WARNING to be placed on a book be specific to that book. For example: 

"The examination of suicidal tendencies in Mrs Dalloway may trigger painful memories for students suffering from self-harm."

The question here seems to be: how far is too far? In a world where a Google search is only a few keystrokes away, is it too much to ask that American readers take a few proactive steps to protect themselves?

Or is it society's responsibility to protect them from the evilness that lurks within the pages of a book? People recovering from the trauma of violence or addiction or disease need all the support they can get -- I'd like to think I'm a pretty big cheerleader, if only because we all face demons to various degrees throughout our lives and need to be supportive of one another. There does come a point, however, where we have to be proactive in our own recovery and not expect the rest of the world to hold our hands every step of the way. 

And let's be honest, if we are going to place TRIGGER WARNINGS on disturbing print material, the very first one should really be slapped on this blog. I can be downright offensive sometimes. Pffffft.

Why I'll Never be Invited to a Reading Party

I've recently found yet another reason I'll never be a part of the hip reading scene: Reading Parties. Reading parties are the latest craze sweeping the literati scene in well-read cities like Seattle and New York (God bless 'em). In Seattle, the fad runs more towards Silent Reading Parties such as the one at The Fireside Room that meets the first Wednesday of each month. Standing room only, folks. Apparently, this is a silent event. No talking, just reading. Admittedly, this baffles me. Unless The Fireside Room is the only place in the world you can find some peace and quiet to read your damn book, why in the hell would one trek to a hotel bar to read a book? I remain mystified.

Never to be outdone by the provincial outpost of Seattle, New York has upped the reading party ante. Topless Reading Parties are springing up (see what I did there?) around the Big Apple. Stop laughing. It's true. It's very cutting edge. And you and I certainly weren't invited (there are small favors in life). Topless Reading Parties operate on the same principle -- show up, read a book -- sans shirt. 

There is a literary connection here, I'm sure of it. 

Perhaps you only get an invitation if you can figure it out.

But let's get back - just for a moment - to the entire idea of a reading party. The act of reading, in my backwoods world, is still a solitary activity. And if I'm going to be completely honest, that is precisely why I love it so much. On the whole, I prefer the characters I meet in books to the people I interact with on a daily basis - you know, family, work, PTA bitches, etc. This is why I carry my book around with me. Stick my nose in a book and I effectively cut off the outside world. See ya, bitches. 

A book party implies interacting with others. If we are interacting with others and the topic is books, isn't that called a BOOK CLUB? I could be wrong, just throwing that out there.

And I really can't get off the topic of the silent book parties. I've already acknowledged that this might be a refuge for those who have no where quiet to go and read on the first Wednesday of every month in Seattle. I hesitate to point out that the Seattle Public Library, located not too far from The Fireside Room, is open daily until 10 pm, although to be fair, they don't serve adult beverages. Still....there are probably at least a hundred different places within the city limits of Seattle that are both quiet and serve libations where one could comfortably sit down and read a book. And I'm willing to be you could even do it on days other than the first Wednesday of the each month. Shocker, I know.

Sigh. No wonder I don't get invitations to these things. I can't shut up.

Have We Forgotten How to Read?

A recent article in the Washington Post featured the recent research of a cognitive neuroscientist which suggests that the current superficial ways in which we read - largely via electronic media such as the internet, email, e-readers, news scrollers on the television - is actually changing the way our brains process reading. And not in a good way.

In fact, claims Maryanne Wolf, a Tufts University neuroscientist and author of “Proust and the Squid: The Story and Science of the Reading Brain,” it might well be that our brains are actually forgetting how to read and comprehend in the traditional, linear manner. As evidence, the article offers a plethora of personal anecdotes from various researchers and university professors who claim that the Internet is churning out new generations of students unable to read classic literature.

At first glance, what Wolf and other researchers were suggesting made sense. We are a society dominated by sound bites. We skim for what we need in an overwhelming sea of information. We read just enough to get what we need and then click on the link that takes us where we need to go, then skim some more. In a world where evolution is the name of the game, I could almost buy the premise that our reading brain would adapt to this change. Almost. Not quite.

You see, I am a part of that unique generation that straddled the advent of the Internet. My primary education and early university years were largely Internet-free. Our brains, if you will, were as yet untainted by bits and bytes. And I’m not embarrassed to admit that neither I, nor the vast majority of my freshman American Lit class, could intelligently pick out a single theme of Melville’s Moby Dick. Sorry, professor. Sometimes a whale is just a whale. Get over it.

Back in the early 1990s, of course, the Internet wasn't ubiquitous enough to blame for a student’s inability to read and regurgitate Nathaniel Hawthorne or Henry James. Most professors simply blamed Harry Potter. Blaming outside culture, I've found, has always been easier than facing the obvious answer: very few of our students were ever taught how to properly read and analyze literature. No one ever bothered.

If we were very lucky this inability to properly read and analyze literature didn't deter us from a love of books. This is an amazing thing when you think about it. To find wisdom, escape, life lessons, and comfort within the pages of a book despite not knowing how to properly analyze and digest what we are reading. This is visceral. This the human thirst for knowledge, understanding, and connection at it’s most basic level. And it is beautiful.

We now live in the age of the Internet. Fast news, short articles, links to any information your curiosity desires await your typing fingers. I, for one, am not afraid to proclaim that this Age of the Internet has in no way proven detrimental to our ability to read and comprehend books. If anything, it has improved it. Quick knowledge is at our fingertips, just a Google search away. Did your English professor fail to teach you different ways to analyze literature? A quick internet search turns up dozens of tutorials highlighting dozens of methods. Pick the one you like best.  If you feel particularly slighted by a sub-par education you can even enroll in an Ivy League literature class online. For free. Those who desire something less structured can find thousands of online book clubs that provide opportunities to read and discuss classic literature. There is, as the saying goes, a butt for every saddle.

If history is any indication, technological advances have always been a dire threat to books. It’s been nearly 80 years since Abbott and Costello over the airwaves posed an obvious threat to Middlemarch and The Scarlet Letter. When radio failed to destroy books, the television was brought to bear and millions of young minds were forcibly turned away from King Lear and Great Expectations by Ed Sullivan parading the gyrating hips of Elvis for all to see. The clear evil we face today, if we are to believe the red flag wavers, is the Internet and all its insidious by-products, including email, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and probably even NPR online. And don’t forget the slow removal of your brain’s ability to read a book. War and Peace may never be read again.