Amazon Review

Amazon’s Phony “Reviews”

Recently Amazon announced it had a new policy banning reviews of books written by writers.  Aside from being a mere Band-Aid, this is a policy they obviously have no way of putting into effect, for how can they possibly police such a vast number of reviews—reviews that appear on their sites with the speed of light?  Amazon has been concerned chiefly with bogus favorable reviews written by authors’ friends and sometimes by the authors themselves.   But the problem is much graver.

Books take years to write but with the advent of the Internet a writer’s reputation (as well as their unduly important Amazon rating) can be damaged in a matter of minutes by an ignorant reviewer or one with his own spiteful agenda.  Unfortunately, simply by allowing such reviews to appear on their sites, Amazon in effect endorses them and gives them a certain legitimacy. When Amazon first started, books were the backbone of their business, and in fact they have provided   valuable services in keeping writers’ backlists alive and becoming a source for out-of print titles as well as distributing books very efficiently.  At the same time,  Amazon has contributed to the sharp decline in independent bookstores set in motion by Barnes and Noble.  Because of Amazon’s immense power it has increasingly become a de facto tastemaker, though it assumes no responsibility for the quality of the reviews it publishes—the kinds of reviews that would never have made it into print in the rapidly disappearing book review sections of newspapers.  For this giant corporation, it is clear that books are now mere products, no more culturally consequential than frying pans or chain saws.  A consumer review of a frying pan by a disappointed cook can be helpful—for one thing, that ordinary citizen has actually tried out the pan and scorched a piece of fish in it.   A book, however, demands to be read and considered very thoughtfully –and objectively. In fact the editors of traditional review media have always taken measures to ascertain their reviewers’ objectivity as best they can.  There are no editors for Amazon’s book section—only the computerized system that immediately posts reviews of its book products. One would think Amazon would be interested in selling as many copies of each of its books as possible.  On the contrary, they distribute so many thousands of titles that they can afford to let some of them become disposable items.  It is clear to me, for example, that Amazon would much rather sell some of their current bestsellers than copies of The Voice Is All.  If you try to find my book on Amazon, you will have to go through two screens listing the unrelated titles they would prefer you to order.  As for protecting a writer’s reputation, they have no interest at all in doing that. You are left to press an abuse button that only occasionally produces results

I speak from recent experience, for over the past few months I have been the target of a rivalrous Kerouac biographer named Paul Maher, who  has made it his chief occupation to put forth untrue and defamatory statements on the Internet portraying me as an intellectual property thief and a biographer who hardly did any of her own research.  He has not hesitated to use crude sexual language referring to me , for example, as “Legs Wide Open Johnson,” while proclaiming his purity of soul and impeccable scholarship.   In addition to his incessant blogging, Amazon provided him with the perfect platform to pursue his campaign against my book—which began even before he read a word of it.  A reputable book review section would never have printed such attacks.  Twice I protested to Amazon and twice they took down his so-called review.  Then he resubmitted it and they let it stand.

A few weeks ago Maher was joined by another “reviewer”, John D. Perhonis, a self-described “historian” who writes regularly for Amazon and makes it his practice to give 2-star reviews to books he proudly announces he probably won’t bother to read.  His review of my work, in which he attacked my scholarship, was based on what he had heard about it from other sources. Again I complained to Amazon and no action was taken. Then Perhonis and Maher began posting comments in which they congratulated each other profusely on their high standards and brilliant intellects and continued to deplore my work, which Perhonis insisted on calling a memoir (after all, what else could a woman write?) rather than a biography.

I have often been advised that in dealing with someone like Maher it was best to suffer in silence and generally take “the high road.” This weekend I ignored that advice and fought back on Amazon, post by post. I would advise all writers, who find themselves in the same position, to start doing the same. If  you feel you have been victimized, out your know-nothing attackers and obsessive email stalkers right on Amazon itself. People who deliberately misrepresent a writers’ work are often cowards, who fold once their agenda is exposed in broad daylight.  If you politely wait for Amazon to protect you, you will find that your patience has been futile. Rage is energizing, suffering is depressing.

I would like to share with you the final result of my embattled weekend by posting the apology from Maher that I received this morning.

As for Perhonis, after attacking my scholarship on the idiotic grounds that I’d had to paraphrase Kerouac’s words rather than refraining from writing  an unauthorized biography, he wrote me last night, asking for an explanation of copyright law and the rights of literary estates, since he knew nothing about either subject., which , as I  immediately pointed out to him, did not prevent him from speaking with pretended authority on such matters in his pompous and disdainful review.  Since he can’t bring himself to buy it, he has promised to take my book out of the library and write a fair review of it (What a guy!), but so far his original review has been left in place,

Write to me on Facebook if you have had similar experiences and thoughts you would like to share.

 

Joyce Johnson