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Authenticity, Paying for Play & The Core of Libraries

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Liz raises a number of vital questions in her post from this weekend, Buying Your Way Into Libraries. Go read it if you haven’t.

I’ve been thinking about these two pieces she cites since both popped up. The second article caught my attention a couple of weeks ago with it first emerged: three library systems have recently purchased an agreement with Smashwords, one of the leading ebook/self-publishing services, wherein for about $100,000, each of the systems will acquire roughly 10,000 of the best-selling titles. Note that there are over 45,000 authors who use Smashwords and they do not know whether or not they are part of the Library Direct program until it shows up on their sales/payment report.

For anyone out of the loop, a number of the big publishers do not sell or license ebooks to libraries. Or, in the rare case one of these publishers does allow library ebook acquisition, there are either restrictions (such as no more than 26 total borrows) or the prices are inflated to the point that purchasing an agreement for them makes a huge financial strain on the library budget. That means the stock of ebooks available for libraries is limited, and with the demand going up, libraries are looking for ways to meet it. It’s not that they do not want to offer ebooks; it’s that their hands are tied and they can’t.

The Smashwords agreement looks like a fantastic option for libraries. It’s access to ten thousand ebooks for readers to choose from, fulfilling patron demand while also fleshing out a collection of books that are best-sellers. It also has the added benefit of not restricting usage and the cost spread out among each of the titles is low. The downside to this agreement, though, is that libraries don’t have control over what titles they’re purchasing. They’re relying instead on whatever best-selling titles are according to Smashwords (and as I mentioned above, even the authors who have books through Smashwords don’t know they’re part of that program either).

Buying into an agreement without control over titles isn’t necessarily earth shattering, but it does raise questions in my mind about collection development and what libraries are willing to give up in the name of providing a resource. In other words, to meet the demands and interest in pursuing ebooks, libraries are giving up the ability to build and sustain a collection built to suit the interests of their communities in the best way possible. More than that, libraries buying into agreements like this undermine the core skills and knowledge set the librarians have. It bypasses human knowledge — both of the classroom-gained kind and the touchy-feely kind acquired by being on the front lines of public service in a library — in favor of giving it over to a company who is interested more in making a deal than in connecting a person to a resource. They’re a business, not a public service.

One of the challenges about collection development that’s becoming a bigger issue is that of self-published works. There’s no doubt there are great self-published books out there, just as there’s little doubt there is a host of crap out there, too. Those who self-pub do so for any number of reasons. The problem, though, is that there are very few reputable review sources. Librarians who practice good collection development rely on trade reviews for purchasing decisions (as well as other factors, including awards or personal reading/knowledge, as well as blogs, consumer reviews on sites like Amazon, and other media sources).  They read Kirkus, Library Journal, Publishers Weekly, and other big name journals, depending on their specialty, and those reviews help them determine whether an item is a good fit for their collection. It’s true — a bad review in a trade journal can keep a librarian from acquiring a book, just like a good review can convince them to purchase more than one copy.

When it comes to self-pubbed books, there are few, if any, places to turn to for reviews. At this point, the only trade publication involved with reviewing self-pubbed books is Kirkus; however, it’s vital to note that Kirkus’s self-pub review model is based on the author paying for a review and then choosing whether or not that review may be published through the traditional journal (though they will make that review available on BN.com and other sites, including Kirkus’s website). You can read the way it works here. There are blogs that also review self-pubbed books, but again, it’s not easy to determine which are best resources for librarians to use for collection development. And the truth of the matter is, there is so much being published through traditional means that even delving into the self-publishing world in libraries is more than overwhelming.

Backtracking to the first article Liz mentions that popped up this weekend. Todd Rutherford created a system wherein authors — self-pubbed, primarily — could pay to have him and his team write glowing reviews of their books. Those reviews would then flood the internet, on big sales sites and more. As the article notes and Liz pulls out, “One of Mr. Rutherford’s clients, who confidently commissioned hundreds of reviews and didn’t even require them to be favorable, subsequently became a best seller. This is proof, Mr. Rutherford said, that his notion was correct. Attention, despite being contrived, draws more attention.”

Through developing these fake reviews and flooding consumer sites with them, buyers were left with the idea that these books were worth purchasing. And they were not only purchased, but they were purchased at times in such quantities that those books became best sellers. The article goes on further to talk about how these sorts of pay-for-review situations have shed a light on consumer reviews all together, with some questioning whether they can believe any sorts of reviews they read outside of a traditional source, including blogs and sites like Amazon, BN.com, and others.

By paying for fake reviews, authors were seeing sales.

By paying for fake reviews, authors were becoming best sellers.

By starting a way for authors to do this, Rutherford made a lot of money.

What Rutherford did was remove the middle man, that human-knowledge aspect of reviewing and promoting. It became a business, rather than a service. Through this business, many saw themselves achieving their publishing dreams, and, as has been rumored, it helped at least one self-pubbed author gain a traditional publisher and make their way to the NYT Bestsellers list.

Smashwords, in the business of making money in the self-publishing industry, is taking away the control from libraries of collection development by offering them books that are best sellers. Best sellers that may or may not fit a community’s needs or interests. Best sellers that may or may not be well-written, of merit, or, hell, even edited. A self-pubbed ebook priced at pennies over the course of a few days could sell hundreds of copies and become a best seller. A self-pubbed ebook priced at what would be a standard price could also sell hundreds of copies and become a best seller — through the services of people like Rutherford.

The more we want to reach out and provide, the more we’re giving up. I think in the cases of some libraries, it’s less about providing a true service to readers and instead, it’s about “sticking it to the man,” as it were. In other words, they’re entering agreements like this in order to show big publishers they’re not needed anyway.

Except, in doing that, they’re also removing any control over quality, over content, and over authenticity.

Beyond being frustrating and beyond overlooking the library’s greatest resource, the question arises again over reviews and what a valuable review is. For self-pubbed authors interested in getting their name out there, doing it quickly and in the best possible light, there are two options: work hard and hope for the best or pay someone like Rutherford to stroke your ego and get your buck.

As a reviewer and as a librarian, both of these stories made me stop and consider the purpose of both of these activities. The first because it’s clear that there are people making this a business and doing it at the expense of those like myself and so many others who make reviewing a thing of blood, sweat, and tears; the second because it’s unfortunate that there are other people in the field who undermine what it is that individuals bring to a library: their knowledge, their critical judgment, and their interest in serving their communities to the best of their ability.

Services, not businesses.

One last time — at least for now.

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I didn’t want to talk about this again. Despite my best efforts to try to remove myself from what I started, I can’t, and the truth is, I own it and I’m okay with it. What I hoped would start a conversation did. It’s been a grueling few days, and I made the conscious decision to not follow the blog posts that popped up, the Twitter conversations that emerged, the civil and not-so-civil comments left on my original piece. I didn’t need to further explain myself or my thoughts. I couldn’t have been more clear where I stood.

But I want to point out that this isn’t a new conversation in the least. This has been going on for a few years now. The fact it’s getting attention now, though, signals to me that maybe we’re ready to start figuring out a solution.

I can’t talk a whole lot more beyond that because I know there are wheels in motion to make change happen. Actual, real change. It feels like I — we — have finally been heard on this issue.

What I wanted to do was round up all my old posts on this topic so that new readers and those who stopped by thinking this was some sort of plea for attention understand that it was not. Or that those who are new readers know this is a charge I’ve been championing for a while now. If you want to think about this like a book, I’ll phrase it this way: here’s the back story. They all go together. They all make where we are right now, at this strange tipping point, make a little more sense.

Something I’ll add, too, just because I think it’s something worth stating — people grow and change and adapt in whatever it is they do. Who I was as a blogger and a librarian in 2009, when this blog started, is different than who I am as a blogger and a librarian now. You become more mature the longer you do something and you become more attune to yourself and to what and how other people are going to react. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t make it very long. 

2011:

BEA 2011 in Review: It’s Not All About the Books
“That’s not to say there aren’t legitimate bloggers who aren’t professionals, because there certainly are, but rather, there are some bloggers who are clearly only in it for free stuff.”

Library Journal cited me, too.

2012:

On Being Critical
“Being classy is responding appropriately, no matter what the forum. Being classy is not firing off a blog post about it without thinking through everything and figuring out a way to state my opinion without devaluing or belittling the opinions of others. Being classy is giving myself room to cool off when someone tells me I have no idea what I’m talking about. Being classy is not diving into drama to create more of it.

Being classy is being critical.”

Librarians, Bloggers & The Lines Between
“I like to think of the book world as a type of eco-system. We all grow and thrive when we allow one another to do so. This means feeding and keeping one another in check. It means being respectful and thoughtful every step of the way. When you’re contributing the good, you get the good back. When you’re not, you’re only harming your environment.”

On ARCs, Ethics, and Speaking Up
“[T]he value in an ARC is the value in what it does for the book. An ARC and a book aren’t the same thing — the ARC precedes the book, and the ARC can help push sales of the book through early buzz. That’s why they exist and why bloggers have become part of the publicity machine. If you’re truly invested in helping promote books and reading, then you promote the purchase of the book, and you work toward halting the buying and selling of ARCs.”

Competition, Envy, and the Fine Print

“It’s our responsibility as bloggers to stand up and choose whether or not we participate. It’s our responsibility to decide whether or not we’re going to let ourselves get anxious or nervous about them, too. It’s our responsibility to speak up and speak out.

We blog because of the freedom it allows us. The only way to keep it free is to remember we have the right to say no thanks and we have the right to step out when we’re not comfortable with how things are going.” 

Who Are We and What Do We Do? 
“When a valid and important topic worth having a dialog about emerges, so often it devolves, turning into mud-slinging, rather than discussion. Drama, rather than discourse. Having all of these tools at our disposal to have these conversations turn into means for guessing, assuming, devaluing.”

You Can Like What You Like 
“We live in a world where the louder you are and the more you talk, the more perception of power you have. Where the more you produce, the more you’re valued. It’s unfair, but it’s true. We’re a world that focuses heavily on the notion of product and of end result and one that shies away from thinking about or exploring process in and of itself. We want a tangible outcome, a defined start and finish. In being this way, so much of the beauty in the act of doing something is overlooked and devalued. So often we chide ourselves if our process to do something takes a long time or requires more than we expected. Rather than allowing ourselves or others to allow the pleasure in the act of doing, we reward based on the result.”

Truth: Blogging is Hard 
“Just like an author worries about how their book will do when it’s out in the world, I worry about what I write and post right here. It’s not the same but it is the same. It’s sharing a part of yourself and your thinking and even if it’s something you’re passionate about and love doing, it’s still work. It takes effort and sometimes you wonder and worry about whether it’s worth it at all.”

The single tweet that launched a post:

The ARC stops here
“I do not for a second believe that ALA should be entirely closed off from those who aren’t librarians. I think it’s an incredible convention for those who love books and reading and knowledge and literacy and technology and the many other facets of librarianship interest that exist. It’s valuable for so many people, including teachers and bloggers and those who are simply readers.”

So to that end, I hope the story makes a heck of a lot more sense now. I have been overwhelmed with response, and I just can’t respond any further than suggesting that the responses already exist here. The belief this isn’t a legitimate concern has me mulling over even more bloggable topics, including belittling professional interests and speaking as an expert on a topic when you have no clue what the topic being discussed even is.

I have avoided reading posts and comments, but I want to do something in this space. I want to say my post was never meant to be an attack on the girls who made the video, and I’m repulsed by anyone who did that. It was meant as an example of the behavior that’s been going on for a long time. I am impressed by their response.

Like I said, people learn and grow. And within days? Those girls got it. I’m impressed as hell.

Will I say more on this? Maybe. But what I want clear is that this time, I was heard. In two days, there were over 10,000 hits on the blog. Thousands of Twitter replies. I hit a nerve that went well beyond my control — but you know, there it is.

 

The ARC stops here

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I mentioned in my last post I didn’t see a lot of bad blogger behavior regarding ARCs at ALA. But as soon as I posted my piece, I did a search for “ALA book haul” and stumbled upon a video made by a pair of bloggers showing off what they picked up at the conference. This video, which ran nearly 22 minutes long, was a stream of book after book after book after book. Twenty-two minutes of showing off the books picked up at ALA. Badges of honor earned by trekking through the exhibit halls at a professional librarian conference and making sure to plan, to schedule, to arrive at different publisher booths at just the right time to snag what was sought (or not — it doesn’t always matter what the book is, just that it’s a book and it’s there and it’s free and it’s from ALA).

I watched the entire video, both fascinated and appalled.  Fascinated because that was a hell of a lot of books for two people — one copy for each of them — and appalled because of the same reason. This wasn’t promoting the books picked up. It was bragging.

On Sunday of ALA, I had a little free time to do what it was I wanted to do at the conference. After what was an overwhelming opening night of exhibits on Friday, as well as an overwhelming few minutes in the exhibit hall on Saturday morning — overwhelming due to the sheer number of people, the crowds, the inability to move at all down an aisle — I poked my head into the hall and saw it was much calmer. I decided I’d walk around and pick out the few things I was really interested in reading.

Let me back up for a second: on Friday night, during the frenzy, I approached one of the publicists and asked about two books on display. I asked if it was possible to get copies or if they’d be available during the show. Note that when I approached them, I had my single tote bag with two other books in it. I was told they’d be available “sometime later at the convention” and was brushed away. No time frame. No commentary about the books themselves. As much as I walked away frustrated for being dismissed, because I did, I also felt bad for the publicist who did that to me. She was clearly overwhelmed and struggling to avoid being trampled by the hordes. I looked like anyone else at the convention, so she couldn’t know that I was a librarian (AND a blogger). She couldn’t know or take a second to find out that I was on a committee and had to spend most of the open exhibit hall hours in meetings (or preparing for a presentation). She didn’t have a second to stop and talk to me at all. I made a note to myself to come back later and ask again, when things would be calmer.

When I went back on Sunday morning, I approached the same publisher, but a different publicist (one I knew and who knew me well). I asked if she could hook me up with the books I was interested in, and she said was more than happy to. But when she looked through all of the cabinets, she couldn’t find copies of the titles I was interested in. She felt bad for it, and she took me cabinet by cabinet, asking if there was anything else I might be interested in. The bulk of the cabinets were empty. Lucky for me that because she knew me, she took down the titles I wanted and said she’d send them along to me after the show.

It seems wrong that on Sunday morning of ALA — only a day and a half into the exhibit hall hours that ran through Monday afternoon — the cabinets at one of the publisher’s booths were almost empty. This isn’t a small publisher either. This was one of the big six.

But as I watched the 22-minute long video earlier, I saw both books I was interested in showed off by both of the girls. They’d won them! They’d fought hard, they’d stalked the booths, they talked to the right people or pushed the right people out of the way. Whatever the deal, those two non-librarians were able to get the two books I’d wanted from the publisher but was unable to get.

I’m a paying member of ALA and of YALSA and of PLA and of ALSC, and I attended the conference because I had committee obligations this year. Because I’m working. Because I was giving a presentation to librarian colleagues. Money is incredibly tight right now because I’m not working a regular job. I paid out of pocket for my memberships in both associations, as well as for my plane ticket, my hotel room, my transportation to and from the airport, around Anaheim, for my meals. I don’t get reimbursed. Every penny I spent at ALA was a penny I couldn’t spend on other things. Something I’ve talked about before, in what was probably the most personal blog post I’ve ever shared publicly, was the notion that librarianship is a very selfless profession. And it is — librarians go out of their way not only to give back to their field but also to reach out and share with as many people as possible. Librarians work on committees to select the best books of the year in any number of categories. They work to read and promote books among their patrons. To help create their collections. ALA for most librarians isn’t at all about the free books. It’s about working. The books are a part of the whole, and they’re a very small part. Just consider that a committee like mine meets from 1:30 – 5:30 on Saturday and Sunday. That leaves just the morning hours free for perusing the exhibit hall, and even then, those hours are juggled with any number of other responsibilities, meetings, presentations, and so forth.

I understand completely why publishers schedule out their ARC distributions at ALA. I get it. There is only so much space in the booth, some books sit in storage until later on, some are held until the author is on site to do a signing. And I also get that it is impossible to get everything I’m interested in getting. I’m not entitled to it nor do I believe I should be.

The video I watched of two non-librarian professionals coming to a book event was 22 minutes long.

In thinking about how librarianship is a giving field, a selfless field, there’s something really uncomfortable for me in admitting that sometimes, there are ARCs I would really want to pick up at ALA. Even though I’m not working right now, I still need to stay on top of my game with what’s publishing so that when I am working again, I can jump in and be fresh, knowledgeable, prepared to not only develop the best collection I can, but also to book talk and get the titles into teens’ hands. But really? I don’t think there’s anything selfish in saying point blank that there are ARCs I want for myself to read for myself and to blog about for myself. As much as it makes me feel weird and egotistical to say this, I will: my stats and my reviews are solid. I know what the hell it is I am doing and what I’m talking about. Even though I am adamant that I have not sold a book — because selling a book requires that I’ve had the book and got money for its sale — I know my posts and reviews have some influence on getting the word out about books, particularly those lesser-known titles. I want to pick up books at ALA that interest me, that I will be able to get the word out about. I want to have conversations with the publicists at ALA and tell them what it is I am interested in and get their feedback on what’s coming out I should know about. They’re the gatekeepers to knowledge I want in the same way that I am a gatekeeper to the audience they want that knowledge (and product) shared with.

While it’s true I could ask the reps via email for titles anytime, I really don’t LIKE doing that. Likewise, it’s impossible to keep up with the contacts as they change so often and at times those changes mean that I’m treated less-than-kindly by overwhelmed reps who have no idea who I am from anyone else (and I say that because I think I’ve earned my cred as a blogger and shouldn’t be treated the same way someone who “just started” blogging is treated). I want to converse with the reps at ALA. I want to be handed a book, dammit, and I don’t think that I’m being selfish in believing that at my own professional conference — one I am paying a lot to attend as a librarian who is working — I should be able to do that.

Moreover, librarians who are working as part of a committee don’t always get boxes of titles sent to them for consideration. Many of the books they read and talk about come from titles they find via ALA conferences. So while the very librarians who are at ALA working to make the lists of best books work, they’re losing out on the opportunity to discover additional titles for consideration that are available in the exhibit hall. They’re missing out on the chance to talk with the publicity folks. And yes, sometimes titles that end up on an awards list come from the books picked up at a booth in the exhibit hall. Not from a box of books sent to the committee for consideration.

Librarians are missing the chance to pick up a book that they want to read. For themselves.

I do not for a second believe that ALA should be entirely closed off from those who aren’t librarians. I think it’s an incredible convention for those who love books and reading and knowledge and literacy and technology and the many other facets of librarianship interest that exist. It’s valuable for so many people, including teachers and bloggers and those who are simply readers. But know I say this, too, with the mind of a librarian: I want knowledge shared and spread and disseminated in a manner that’s accessible to the most and not the least. It’s an utterly selfless profession and one that gives and gives.

The video I found today, if I can remind you, was 22 minutes long. A laundry list of the books these two bloggers — non-librarians, non-professionals — picked up at ALA.

It’s not going to be easy to find a solution to this, but something needs to be done. I do not for a second believe that all non-librarian/non-teacher/non-ALA members who blog are bad people. What I am saying, though, is those few rotten apples are spoiling this for EVERYONE, and they’re spoiling it for people who are working hard, who should be able to treat themselves to something they are interested in, be it an ARC or be it having a second to talk with a publishing rep. Anyone can get into ALA’s exhibit hall for a mere $25 and some people are abusing that opportunity, taking it as their chance to pick up and carry home as many ARCs as possible. They’re taking away from the folks who are not only spending gobs more money — gobs more of their own money — to attend a professional conference but who are attending it to work to make the profession what it is. To award those books. To spread the word about the things that are coming out. To develop as professionals in librarianship. This is something that needs to be dealt with and it needs to be dealt with at the convention organizer level. That means it needs to be dealt with BY the American Library Association, which works to serve the needs and goals of their members, librarians and library supporters who pay for membership. Who pay for voting. Who pay to have their thoughts heard. Who pay to attend this convention in so many ways.

This isn’t about what you do with your ARCs when you’re done. This isn’t about the “noble causes” bloggers are picking up books for. This is about what the goals of the ALA convention are. What the goals of the publishers are in attending these conventions and distributing these books.

My solution — and note this is my solution and mine alone — is that bloggers/non-professionals who pay the minimum amount to attend the convention be limited to one day attendance at the end of the convention. That they be allowed to attend but that their attendance is after librarians and other professionals using this convention to develop as such have the opportunity to get what it is they need and what it is they want out of their own convention. If they choose to pay the full conference amount or are themselves members of the organization, then they can have full access just as anyone else does. I don’t think this is hard and I do not think it’s at all unfair on any side of the equation. Those who would find this disagreeable are part of the problem.

As a librarian, I know what my influence is, and as a librarian who blogs, I know this even more so (I don’t need to mention in this space the over 500 responses I got within an hour when I tweeted the question of what authors would feel like knowing their book went into the hands of a non-librarian at a librarian conference — it’s not about showing off or bragging but rather that people are listening). I don’t for a second believe I’m being selfish. I believe I’m allowing myself to be a professional librarian. I believe I’m also allowing myself an opportunity to do something for me. And since I’m paying for it, I think I deserve it.

A 22 minute video showing all of those books picked up at ALA by non-librarian bloggers.

I’m a voracious reader and blogger, but even I can’t get through that much. All I was hoping for was a pair of titles from a publisher and the chance to talk with a few others about the things they were most excited about. But I didn’t get the first and I had to fight to get the second.