Tagged: amazonfail

the new #amazonfail: “Nineteen Eighty-Four” sent to the memory hole

nineteen eighty-four

He wondered again for whom he was writing the diary. For the future, for the past — for an age that might be imaginary. And in front of him there lay not death but annihilation. The diary would be reduced to ashes and himself to vapour. Only the Thought Police would read what he had written, before they wiped it out of existence and out of memory. How could you make appeal to the future when not a trace of you, not even an anonymous word scribbled on a piece of paper, could physically survive?

George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four

The Easter #amazonfail, in which an apparent “faux pas” had the effect of de-listing many gay-themed books, highlighted one of the risks of the Amazon.com monoculture in book buying. The most recent one, though, demonstrating the company’s ability to remotely purge purchased books at a third-party’s behest, is far more troubling.

As reported by David Pogue, Gizmodo, and others:

Apparently, the publisher changed its mind about having electronic versions of Orwell’s books. So Amazon removed them from the store and in the process remotely deleted the books from the Kindles of anyone who bought them, depositing a refund in their account in the process.

That the affected books were “Nineteen Eighty-Four” and “Animal Farm,” one dealing with the malleability of memory in a totalitarian age and the other dealing with different kinds of “equality” in an “egalitarian” society, makes the situation that much more interesting.

The back story is, as is always the case with the sort of thing, a bit more complicated. It wasn’t all e-book versions of “Nineteen Eighty-Four” that were purged, just those published by Mobipocket. The Kindle version of the Mobipocket edition is listed as “not yet available,” though the version on the Mobipocket site can apparently still be purchased. As the Mobipocket site and some other George Orwell sites make clear, there’s complexity in the international copyright status of Orwell’s books:

This work is in the public domain in Canada, Australia, and other countries. It may still be copyrighted in some countries. The user should determine whether the work is in the public domain in their own country before using it.

“Nineteen Eighty-Four” is still under copyright in the United States and the European Union; editions sold in these markets must be licensed by the Orwell estate (who have defended their copyright against, among others, the reality show “Big Brother” and an Edinburgh Fringe Festival performance of “Animal Farm”). No doubt the back story on the Mobipocket Orwell has to do with an unauthorized edition competing with a licensed one in Amazon’s Kindle store. This particular dust-up, then, has its origins in two different issues: variations in copyright laws around in the world in a the international digital age, and the unprecedented control that a device like the Kindle gives to publishers and booksellers over what rights readers have to the books they’ve purchased.

On the international copyright side, this simply points to the need to rationalize and internationalize copyright protections across borders. If I read “Nineteen Eighty-Four” at George-Orwell.org from a computer in the United States, I’m violating copyright, though the site is hosted in Canada and therefore in compliance with local law. The laxer copyright laws in Canada and Australia, the absolute lack of enforced copyright in many Asian markets, and the Disney-driven extension of copyright further and further past the creator’s death, is a recipe for conflict and contradiction. A sane middle ground of limited protection, or perhaps a market-based copyright (want to extend Mickey Mouse’s copyright? pony up a few million dollars to a fund that helps to protect the rights of less lucrative properties; otherwise, it expires upon the creator’s death or at some reasonable period afterward), needs to be established for the Internet be a viable means of disseminating ideas, and not just a piracy tool.

More troubling, though, is that the Kindle has a kill switch. Think of how much easier Winston Smith’s job would have been in the Ministry of Truth if he could have used Amazon technology! No need to carefully excise words or rub out images from photographs, no environmentally-harmful burning of books and records (getting temperatures up to 451 degrees Fahrenheit just adds to your carbon footprint); the green way to censor is to do it electronically. This affair demonstrates how little power we really have over the devices that are replacing old-fashioned books on paper.

We’ve seen that Internet and communications companies are willing to cooperate, if not collude, with governments on a variety of issues that are hardly in the interest of liberty (e.g., warrentless wire taps, censorship in China). Because they are also participants in a market economy with lots of non-government pressure groups in play, one can imagine them giving in to calls for removing certain books that come from non-government sources. And if publishers can now yank books off a reader’s electronic shelf, then the reader’s rights become even more tenuous.

In light of Amazon’s power to pull books away from readers, some clear, public, ethical guidelines should be established as to how that power will be exercised. Books should be pulled only in certain narrow situations (copyright violation, libel, or egregious factual errors come to mind); there should be a public notice of the intent to remove a book, with an opportunity for affected parties to comment on the case; and there should be fair compensation to the reader. This is a mighty power for any organization to wield, and it needs to be practiced in the sunshine. Based on the past history of Amazon’s handling of these kinds of situations, though, I’m pessimistic of Amazon’s following any such guideline.

Without some way to harness the ability of publishers and booksellers to take away people’s e-books, the convenience that devices like the Kindle offer comes at far too steep a price. In a fully-wired world, where the e-book (at least as imagined by Amazon) has replaced paper, our freedoms to read are dangerously compromised. For now, at least, I’m going to hang on to my hard copies of Orwell (not to mention Marx, Gramsci, and Adam Smith): unwieldy as big fat books might be, they’re at least somewhat challenging to pry from my hands.

(Note that I don’t feel at all hypocritical about having a Kindle e-book for sale. The Kindle has its place, and I’m comfortable with my story collection being on the disposable end of the spectrum, so long as you enjoy it while you read it. I promise not to yank it away from you if you buy it.)

Update: as I suspected, this was a copyright dispute, as reported by Brad Stone at the NYT:

An Amazon spokesman, Drew Herdener, said in an e-mail message that the books were added to the Kindle store by a company that did not have rights to them, using a self-service function. “When we were notified of this by the rights holder, we removed the illegal copies from our systems and from customers’ devices, and refunded customers,” he said.

This still doesn’t change the core problem of the e-book memory hole. And it also adds the wrinkle that most of the major breakers of the news didn’t bother to investigate the story behind the story, par for the course these days.

After the Fail: moving ahead from the #amazonfail

It’s been over a month since the #amazonfail brouhaha swept Twitter and the web, which is about a century in Internet time. Since then, the Twitterati have moved on to more pressing issues (“#3turnoffwords” and “Patrick Swayze” are trending to the top of the Twitterverse as I write this). The questions that the fiasco raised have largely gone unanswered.

I don’t live at Internet speeds, though, so I’ve continued to think about what Amazon’s flub means and what can be done about it. My own sphere of influence is pretty tiny, but I’ve finished up a little project that is my own practical response to the Amazon leviathan: a WordPress plugin called BookLinker that makes switching from the Amazon affiliate program, or at least augmenting Amazon with other resources, a whole lot simpler. You can read about all the geeky stuff that went into this plugin here; more important, though, are the reasons behind this project.

Why link to books?

Web sites that review books, or discuss books, or otherwise have a bookish nature, typically provide their readers to some sort of external link to the books in question. There are some good reasons for this:

  • The linked pages provide some additional context for the book: reviews, author biography, history, etc. The thing that sets a web review apart from a print review is that the context can be made richer by relying on external resources, and the review itself can be made leaner by leaving a lot of expository and extraneous information to those outside sources.
  • Readers should be able to get their hands on the book quickly if it interests them. Being able to buy the book, or request it from your library, while you’re reading the review, is a great service to readers; I can add an intriguing title to my reading queue with a few clicks of the mouse, and not have to scribble down notes on a 3×5 card.
  • The affiliate programs offered by Amazon, Powells, and IndieBound can be valuable for some high-traffic sites; these programs are a key source of income on really popular and successful book review sites. For the less popular sites, they don’t really offer much payment, though the occasional windfall is nice enough.

The web is all about linking, and so linking to book sites should be a key piece of Internet book reviews.

Why link to Amazon?

Amazon is by far the biggest player in the book link world, for some good reasons:

  • The depth of selection is astounding; most books that are in print are available on Amazon, and through the relationships that Amazon has forged with used book retailers, lots of out of print books are easy to find as well. If you want to review it or read it, Amazon probably has it.
  • For the reviewer/blogger, Amazon’s tools are the best. The link-creating widgets are nicely integrated into the site, so in just a few clicks you can generate a nicely-formatted affiliate link to a book and paste it into your page. By contrast, IndieBound has one link format that can be created from the book pages (easy enough for an HTML-savvy writer to tweak, but not as intuitive as Amazon’s options), and Powell’s requires you to enter your affiliate ID and the book’s ISBN on a separate screen, making two-tab browsing an annoying requirement.
  • Amazon is ubiquitous. For better or worse, it’s the default on-line shopping destination not only for books, but also for CDs, toys, electronics, and household goods, and a huge player in digital downloads as well. Most people who are going to buy something on-line probably have an Amazon account already, and are more likely to buy from Amazon simply because they’re familiar with it. Getting someone to buy a book from Powell’s, or go through an independent bookseller through IndieBound, is an uphill struggle.
  • Amazon has economy of scale. Its prices are low, its discounts are deep, and its shipping policies make it easy to buy an extra little something on impulse for the “free” postage.
  • The Amazon web site is very rich in content; there are lots of reviews (some better than others), links to related books, and information about authors and publishers. Most of this content is in service of selling books, of course, but that doesn’t detract from its usefulness to the reader.

That’s a lot of inertia, which makes the lack of serious change after the #amazonfail fiasco unsurprising.

Why NOT link to Amazon?

For some people, the #amazonfail event–the sudden, apparently accidental, de-listing of a whole range of gay and lesbian titles–was enough to make them stop linking to or buying from Amazon. It’s the sort of issue that a small number of people feel strongly enough about to change their behavior, like not buying lettuce during the Chavez boycott or steering clear of Coors beer (and not just because it’s a lousy beer). But it’s not sufficient to get enough people exercised to really shift the marketplace in on-line book buying.

For me, there are two other compelling, and related, reasons to avoid buying from Amazon. And though I thought that the #amazonfail event was badly handled by Amazon, and the arbitrariness of the flub was offensive, I think these are more important reasons.

First, Amazon represents a monoculture in the book marketplace. They’re not really a monopoly–there are other places to get books, and they don’t get any particular government largess (that I know of, at least) to support their business–but they are so gigantic that they set the tone for everyone else. Indeed, their ubiquity gives them incredible power over how we read. The danger with a monoculture, though, is that it makes the entire ecosystem vulnerable to the ailments of the big player: when Amazon de-lists a whole class of books, or promotes certain kinds of books more than others, or introduces proprietary technology (like the Kindle) that locks users into a particular stream of content, the quality of the entire book world suffers.

We saw a similar invasive monoculture in the book world in the 1990s, when the big chain stores–particularly Barnes & Noble and Borders–started to squeeze independent booksellers with their low prices and deceptively wide selections. (Full disclosure: I was a Barnes & Noble bookseller myself for about five years, though I remained a lowly floor walker for my tenure.) The sheer mass of the chain stores shifted the way publishers worked with retailers, and affected the kinds of books that got attention on the sales floor. But once the wonder of the big box book store wears off, most readers will discover a numbing sameness to them all.

And that’s the other, related, reason that I’m now starting to steer my readers toward IndieBound rather than Amazon. IndieBound is an umbrella site for the American Bookseller Association, made up primarily of small, independent bookstores. Unlike Amazon, IndieBound directs your dollars to a store near you, a store run by local people who know and love books and readers. Rather than “crowd-sourcing” books through Amazon’s ranks and comments, independent booksellers are hands-on matchmakers, trying to connect readers with books based on human interaction. At an independent bookstore, you’ll be offered suggestions based on insights rather than algorithms.

I’ve also included, in my WordPress plugin, links to the other way to get books: your local library. My book “shopping” lately has been confined to the library, and I’ve been very happy with how that’s worked out. My local library is an easy walk away, and the online book ordering system means that I can get books delivered there from any branch in Hennepin county or, with a little more effort, from a good number of places around the country. And if the book isn’t in Minneapolis, I can probably find it across the river in St. Paul. WorldCat links the catalogs of many libraries and makes finding the books you want almost as easy as Amazon does. And if you think independent booksellers are book people, just wait until you meet your librarian.

Is #amazonfail #amazonfixed? a recap

At the time of this posting, my friend Keith Hale’s book Clicking Beat on the Brink of Nada still hasn’t had its sales rank restored, though the AP reports that “a ‘glitch’ had caused the problem and [Amazon| promised that the numbers would be restored” (no ETA provided).

The other markers I’ve been using for the status on this issue are sales ranks on E. M. Forster’s Maurice (currently restored) and James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room (still missing), and the search results for “homosexuality” (” A Parent’s Guide to Preventing Homosexuality” is still at the top). So it would appear that things are starting to get better, so far as this particular “glitch” goes, but there’s still some work to be done.

What’s more interesting than the particulars of the sales rank debacle, though, are the responses (and lack of response) to the issue. Here are the things that I see as the most important outcomes of the #amazonfail kerfuffle:

Amazon’s silence is deafening.

It’s been very easy to track this story (the Google news page even has a timeline chart), but it’s been difficult to find any direct public response from Amazon itself. They made a statement to Publishers Weekly on Sunday, and to the Seattle Times and Seattle Post-Intelligencer today, but the prime web real estate that Amazon controls is silent: the Amazon home page continues to plug the Kindle, and the popular Omnivoracious blog still has its “kid lit roundup” post at the top (with a string of off-topic complaints about #amazonfail under the latest video from Nacho the Party Puppy).

The momentum of Twitter is incredible

If you can harness the power of Twitter for your cause, through a catchy hash-phrase and the compounding effect of re-tweets, you’ll capture more eyeballs than the priciest PR campaign could possibly buy. The #amazonfail hash tag has been in the top two or three topics on Twitter for almost 24 hours, with thousands of people (and not just “some gay and lesbian activists,” as the Seattle Times piece would have it: yours truly, for one, is neither gay nor lesbian, and hardly much of an activist) commenting, observing, and passing the word.

The issue promptly left the Twitter reservation, spreading quickly through the blogosphere (just from my own RSS reader favorites, I see Edward Champion, Jacket Copy, The Daily Beast, The House of Mirth, Andrew Sullivan, Waggish, Neil Gaiman, Maud Newton, Bookslut, C. Dale Young, Mashable, and Ron Silliman have all weighed in). From there, it was hardly a huge leap into the mainstream media, with the Gray Lady herself coming in to sweep up the pieces this evening.

A harbinger of changing attitudes?

I’d be careful to impute too much from this situation, and suggest that attitudes toward gays and lesbians are shifting significantly in the United States. Twitter, Facebook, and the web in general is populated by a very different demographic than the off-line world, and participating in the Twitter trend is certainly a self-selecting phenomenon. Still, it seems like a positive thing (from the point of view of someone who supports full and equal civil rights for all Americans, regardless of race, class, creed, gender, or sexual orientation) that such a furor was raised over what appeared to be a “glitch” that affected primarily gay- and lesbian-themed books. (And that the furor was over books especially heartens a devotee to 15th century technology in the digital age.) Certainly it would have been difficult 20 years ago to get so many people to make a public statement of support for a minority still seen as suspicious and unsavory by many people, even in a somewhat anonymous venue as the Internet. It’s also striking to see the “crowd” confront the “corporation”; crowds aren’t always right, but neither are corporations, and if Twitter, Facebook, et al can help to balance that power, then a solid two cheers at least for technology.

What should Amazon have done?

I’m still perplexed by Amazon’s silence. Jeff Bezos, after all, has invested heavily in Twitter, and Amazon itself has been a trendsetter in Web 2.0 technology. With some of the most valuable real estate on the web, it’s surprising that they’ve turned to the old print media–Publishers Weekly, Seattle Times, Seattle Post-Intelligencer–to get the word out about a controversy that really exists only in cyberspace. Perhaps the “glitch” (apparently, caused by a SNAFU at Amazon.fr) was “ham-fisted”; the PR response has certainly been.

A smarter response would have been to engage the situation on its home turf, before it got too far out of hand. A few Amazon tweets of “OMG, this is so wrong! We’re working on it #amazonOK” would have been a great start; a couple of Amazon PR interns could have been put to work following the #amazonfail trend, sending quick messages to the people tweeting the most about the topic in an effort to cool the flames a bit. The #amazonfail trend could even have been used as a diagnostic tool, giving leads as to what the true scope of the problem might be, and helping to target efforts on fixing the most obvious problems first.

Amazon should also use its home page and blogs to make a public, ideally non-corporate-speak laden (I know, I know, no chance…), statement about the situation. Explain in simple terms what happened, how it happened, how it’s being addressed, and when the resolution will be in place. Addressing the customer directly and honestly would help to rebuild some of the trust that was wrecked by the original “glitch” and further mangled by the botched PR.

The purported root cause would appear to be a laudable goal: provide a “safe search” option that keeps “objectionable” material out of customer searches, should the customer opt to be so protected (emphasis mine). The “objectionable” filter was set much too aggressively, though, and globally to boot: unlike the Google “safe search” settings, there’s no way for customers to opt out of the “fugitive and cloistered virtue” imposed by the filter. This is something Amazon should address, publicly and clearly, and something they should correct before they try to implement any such filtering again.

Finally, it would be nice to see Amazon make amends to the authors whose books were briefly (we hope) blacklisted. Perhaps a sale on GLBT titles? A special “buy Lady Chatterley’s Lover, get The Price of Salt for half price” deal? A few well-placed features of de-listed titles? At the very least knock “A Parent’s Guide to Preventing Homosexuality” down a few pegs until this all blows over …

Do I expect Amazon to do any of this? Not really. They may be on the cutting edge of Web 2.0 technology, but Amazon is hardly on the cluetrain. It would behoove someone at Amazon to look at the cluetrain manifesto, particularly thesis #30, as they ponder their next move in a game that they’ve yet to engage in any meaningful way:

Brand loyalty is the corporate version of going steady, but the breakup is inevitable—and coming fast. Because they are networked, smart markets are able to renegotiate relationships with blinding speed.

#amazonfail continues: a tale of two books

I checked the “sales rank” information on two books by Keith Hale, a friend of mine from graduate school, and found that the “mystery” continues.

The first book, “Friends and Apostles,” a collection of Rupurt Brooke’s letters, has a sales rank (of 975,646; come on people, we can do better than this! Where’s the love for British poets of the Great War?). It’s #1 in the category “Books > Literature & Fiction > Authors, A-Z > ( B ) > Brooke, Rupert.” Its other categories all have to do with biography, memoir, literary criticism, and letters.

The second book, “Clicking Beat on the Brink of Nada,” is a reissue of the very popular gay coming-of-age novel “Cody,” with the original Dutch publication’s title and art. Despite having 23 reviews and 4.5 stars, this book has no sales rank. Its category is “Gay & Lesbian > Literature & Fiction > Fiction > Gay.”

Meanwhile, “A Parent’s Guide to Preventing Homosexuality” remains the top result when searching Amazon for “homosexuality” (sales rank 128,083).

Amazon Rank #amazonfail

A lot of kerfuffle about Amazon Rank is going on, with the apparent de-ranking of “adult” titles (including E.M. Forster’s “Maurice” and “Giovanni’s Room” by James Baldwin).

I’ve confirmed that these two books don’t show their sales rank on Amazon; they’re not especially obscure, and I just checked a more obscure book–John Williams’ “Stoner”–and see that it has a sales rank of 10,521. I’m pretty sure that Forster and Baldwin sell circles around Williams (though I’m also pretty sure the Williams book holds its own as a piece of writing–more on that in a day or two).

Sales rank is one of the factors that goes into search results at Amazon, which has resulted in some weirdness. The first book that shows up for the Amazon search “homosexuality” is “A Parent’s Guide to Preventing Homosexuality”; of the first twelve results, ten are in the “cure for gayness” genre. At Powell’s, Barnes & Noble, and Indiebound.com, zero to two of the top twelve results offered dubious “cures.”

An Amazon spokesperson has blamed the situation on a “glitch.” And we should probably give them the benefit of the doubt for now. But it’s certainly curious that of the first twelve Baldwin books that turn up on Amazon, only “Giovanni’s Room” is missing its sales rank.

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