The internet gets the blame for a lot of things, but one
thing that you rarely hear is that it’s making people too nice. But such is the
argument of Jacob Silverman, in his essay ‘Against Enthusiasm: an epidemic ofniceness in online book culture’, in which he argues that the culture of
Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr and their ilk have created communities where to be
liked, favourited, followed and retweeted is the aim and everyone is after
online approbation. According to Silverman, this gives rise to a culture where genuine criticism
is no longer valued and, indeed, is seen as ‘hating’ (in the online vernacular
- he doesn’t use that phrase, I'm just more down with the kids than he is).
While Silverman may have a point, I’d argue that to some
extent he misunderstands social media and how people use it. In one of his examples,
he cites a writer who had 9000 Twitter followers before her book was even out,
and asks how many of those would be willing to give that book a negative review,
having previously connected with her on line. But honestly, how many of those people have actually connected with her online? How
many would be able to tell you they follow her, or who she is? I follow 2000
people on Twitter, and have around 1000 followers – of those, I estimate I have
some sort of regular interaction with a dozen, maybe a couple of dozen at a
push. I barely remember who the others are, as I skim through my feeds at speed
– and I spend a LOT of time on Twitter, way more than most users. Like most people, I often follow people
for fairly insignificant reasons – they followed me and look interesting, one
of their tweets showed up in my timeline, or I’ve interacted with them in some
other medium. Does this make me rush out and buy their books, or albums, see
their plays or buy their products? Sometimes, yes, (though really not that
often) and it probably makes me more likely,
if I’ve enjoyed those things, to say nice things about them. But would it
stop me criticising them?
It’s an interesting question, and a tough one. If I know
someone relatively well, I try to avoid having to review anything by them, and
if I have read a book by someone I know and don’t like it, I would tend to just
not say anything at all (I find the fall back position of ‘I plan to read it
but I’ve just been SO busy’ is a face saver). But if I don’t know them, I’d probably be
willing to say I wasn’t enjoying their book, or whatever, in a public forum. I
wouldn’t tweet them direct (ie, use their Twitter name in the tweet) as that’s
just rude, and I try not to post massively negative things on Twitter anyway,
but I might post that, say, a particular book has disappointed me. Following an
author on Twitter certainly wouldn’t stop me posting a negative review on platforms
where honest reviews are expected, such Goodreads or Amazon, or on even my personal
blog, and I’m sure most readers feel the same. I’ve been in situations where
I’ve had numerous, friendly email exchanges with bloggers, only for them to
turn around and give my book a poor review. I must admit my first reaction is
always ‘but I thought you liked me!’ but then I take a deep breath and remember
that, if someone takes themselves seriously as a blogger or reviewer, they have to be
honest, no matter how personable they may have thought I was, or how much we
seemed to be getting along online. That’s the game we’re all in: if you don’t
want to play it, don’t put your stuff out there.
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| The internet: promoting niceness |
Social media democratises writing and with it, criticism:
Silverman himself acknowledges that the established literary scene can be
cliquey – and much of this isn’t based on talent or achievements, but on social
connections and, let’s be honest, money: you’re much more likely to build
useful contacts if you can intern at a publishing house or magazine, and who
can afford to do that except those with money? Who can get those jobs these
days – even the unpaid ones – without contacts? Social media allows people to
circumvent that, so you can build a useful mass of connections from your table
top in Wales or Wisconsin: you don’t need to know the right people, you don’t
need to be cool. And it may well be that some of the books that are getting
rapturous receptions online would make a New York Times reviewer tear his own
hair out, but you know what, a lot of people like books that aren’t necessarily
that well written – if that wasn’t the case, 50 Shades wouldn’t be racing out
the doors at WH Smith. We need to start accepting that there isn’t some
universal standard of good that is passed down from on high. I spend a lot of
time on writing forums, and the passion and enthusiasm posters have for the
books is clearly real – it makes you realise that a lot of readers value
something other than simply literary merit. Why should that be a bad thing?
I’d argue that a far greater threat to honest reviewing is
the very opposite of niceness: it’s the culture of online bullying created by
authors who can’t cope with bad reviews and the fans who see any criticism of
the titles they love as sacrilege and attack bloggers and reviewers for having
an opinion that dares to disagree with theirs. The online book reviewing
community has been rife with such tales lately, and I can think of at least one
blog that has shut down because the people who run it simply don’t think it’s
worth the online abuse that it can attract.
I think that anything that engages people in talking about
books, thinking about books and above all, reading books, is a good thing. So in
some ways, I agree with Silverman that some online communities have created an
expectation of positive reinforcement where any deviation from that is
punished, and it’s making people wary of sticking their head above the parapet.
I agree that for both writers and
readers, an unwillingness to ever be critical is a bad thing. But honestly,
that’s simply not my online experience – and I’d be surprised if it was that of
many other people. Because, seriously, people becoming too nice on line? Not on
any internet near me.
