Amazon.com books

In the wake of the controversy surrounding Amazon.com’s debacle, in which they first claimed books with “adult” content were being de-ranked, then  called it a computer glitch, then retracted that and called it a cataloguing error, and so forth, I thought we might take a moment to consider the nature of the controversy itself. For those who considered it controversy, the name of the game is censorship. Or should that be Censorship? It is a Very Important Topic, after all.

I don’t mean to make light of the topic, or people’s responses to it—outrage and furor and apathy and acceptance and the entire spectrum of it—so much as I make light of how we display our responses. Censorship tends to evoke negative reactions. But to see how we communicate this in a world enamored with social media does cause in me a mild feeling of alarm and a very strong instinct to brood in a corner with a mug of hot chocolate, a notebook and a pen (a pursuit with which I am quite intimate).

As an active social networker, I witnessed firsthand the Twitter-based #amazonfail. (In Plainspeak, people on Twitter using a tag to identify the subject of their conversations, in this case Amazon.com.) I found it almost surreal to see peoples’ reactions reduced to highly punctuated 140-character bursts of emotion. We need only type a sentence and a protest is sparked.

Perhaps that is a bit hyperbolic.

It is true emotions ran high. That the books targeted—whether accidental or intentional I cannot officially say—were largely gay-themed was responsible for this. Gay rights is a tumultuous topic, but to add censorship to it is extremely problematic. Even a perceived act of censorship against books will have readers alike up in arms against the perceived call to burn the books. I had as strong a reaction as any.

On Twitter.

(I tell myself that responses being Tweeted does not trivialize them, and maybe nowadays I am right).

As a society we are on the whole not comfortable with the idea of censorship of books. Whether we condemn it as naïve, controlling or sadistic, or if we endorse it for whatever reason, we cannot be completely objective or fair. I’m not and never will be—one doesn’t grow up with generally unrestricted access to books without developing an almost motherly protectiveness of that access. But I recognize that the questions censorship sparks are boundless: How does freedom of speech fare against protecting our children? When can the government overrule the people and vice-versa? What are the rights of teachers versus students versus parents? et cetera. These questions are akin to asking what is right and what is wrong or what is good and what is bad. They are largely philosophical, and the only answers are opinions born of individual experience.

I would suggest that no matter where your opinion falls along the spectrum, the controversy stemming from Amazon.com—whether news of it lingers indefinitely or is forgotten next week—is significant at the very least because there was controversy. Thanks to the Internet, we have reached a new level of interconnectedness in our casual conversations. They are  swifter, more brutal, more efficient, and open for the world to see. Anything we find noteworthy spreads like wildfire. The case with Amazon.com and their inconsistent PR only made it easier (and, in all honesty, more tempting) for the public  to become involved.

People are fiercely protective of certain rights, and however the literary and publishing world may be changing, the challenge toward freedom of speech and of access is something no one takes lightly. Contrary to this post's title, book-burning is never a light topic of conversation. But hopefully you see my intent here—to draw attention to the implicit gut reaction you most probably to had to it.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Every burned book enlightens the world.” I would propose that in consideration of recent events to expand his wisdom: that every threat to burn a book enlightens the world.