What is this thing called Psychology?

At parties, I used to answer, 'I'm a psychologist' when asked what I did for a living, and I'd get a weird look. Now, of course, I answer, 'I'm a writer,' and get a weird look. This blog is a record of the writer's life, so I don't want to spend too much time on psychology but, of course, the work of psychologists does have relevance to fiction. Not as much as some people think (unless you're a Freudian; evil laugh).

What, pray, is psychology, hmm?

Psychology, like any science, is all about mystery – in this case, the mystery of thinking and behaviour. And like any mystery, the key to its solution lies in pure detective work. But psychology, by its very nature, and in contrast to physics or chemistry, forces us to ask questions before any real work can be done. Take this question, for example. 'What is psychology?' It’s a killer. I’ll supply a brief answer, but before we get serious it might be worth pointing out what psychology is not (so that those with particularly bizarre misconceptions may depart with dignity intact).

Alas, psychology is not the art of mind-reading. Students will not learn to divine the innermost thoughts of friends and strangers. They will not leave university a fledgling Machiavelli, forever destined to impress people at parties. Secondly, psychology is not the study of common sense. While it may be accurate to describe all functioning human beings as psychologists in terms of their knowledge and use of mental processes to manipulate others (to good ends as well as bad) they are largely unaware of the body of work that comprises psychology, and the rigours involved in researching it. If this startles you, join the club with a million members.

But the myths don’t end there. The term ‘psychology’ is not interchangeable with ‘psychoanalysis’, which is Sigmund Freud’s theory of the development, function and treatment of the mind. Psychoanalysis exists as a subdivision of psychology. Nor is a psychologist a psychiatrist. The latter is a medical doctor who specialises in the treatment of mentally ill individuals using psychotherapeutic and drug-assisted techniques. For that matter, psychology is not exclusively the study of mentally ill individuals either, and when it is, they rarely suffer from the more newsworthy ones like Munchausen’s syndrome or multiple personality (dissociative identity) disorder. It is safe to say that, during their studies, psychology students will not be asked to profile serial offenders or analyze the bite-marks of Hannibal Lecter.

Even with these myths dispelled, the question is still a killer. The first step towards making it digestible is to divide psychology into academic and specialist areas (these divisions are not true borders; communication of information between the two, and across every other makeshift ‘border’, is lively and productive). The academic area can be further divided into major theoretical perspectives. Each perspective contains its own views (and jargon) about the mind and the world. These are partly influenced by philosophical notions – psychology owes a debt to philosophy it can never repay – and the precise nature of how psychological inquiry should be conducted, and why it should be conducted. By and large, the creed of academic psychology is 'the scientific investigation of mind and behaviour'. This is by no means uncontroversial; the major perspectives differ greatly in their definitions of the dangerous words in that statement. What do we mean by 'scientific'? Why do we want to be scientific? Can we ever really study the 'mind' when all we see is the effect it has, never the thing itself? Should we limit ourselves to behaviour only, to be as scientific as possible?

Academic Perspectives

In no particular order, the first is the Psychodynamic viewpoint. This originated with Sigmund Freud at the turn of the previous century, became popular in America and, from there, spread to Europe. The personality is divided into the id, ego and superego, and problems such as neuroses, Freudian slips and general psychological malaise are considered to be direct results of excessive friction between these chronically conflicting elements. Psychological development is seen as the successful resolution of certain anxieties that characterize a child’s progression through universal psychosexual stages. The goal of Freudian psychoanalysis is heightened awareness of the personality’s warring elements and, thus, the achievement of stabilisation. For many years it has been the fashion to decry Freud (and not without reason) but a thorough understanding of his theory and methodology are common requirements of a psychology course. Whether or not Freud was right is, in many ways, outweighed by the opportunity to gain insight into a theory that has influenced a century’s way of thinking.

Second is the Cognitive viewpoint. Cognitive psychologists are less concerned than psychoanalysts with clinical applications and look to uncover the foundations of cognition itself. The mind is seen as an active information processing device striving to make sense of the world through specialised mechanisms. Rather than address issues such as the emotions and global mental functioning, the goal here is to objectively measure – through empirical analysis – aspects of this information processing endeavour, such as attention, memory, perception, language, problem-solving, and mental representation. Cognitive psychology is the most rigorously scientific of the viewpoints that attempt to measure the mind directly, and it does so with some exotic tools, including the simulation of the micro-structure of cognition.

Next is Behaviourism. The theories which underpin behaviourism – operant and classical conditioning – are, like psychoanalysis, vaguely familiar to most people. Pavlov’s dogs come under behaviourism, as do Skinner Boxes and roller-skating pigeons. Less prominent nowadays, behaviourism was once the viewpoint of mainstream psychology. Radical behaviourism took the stance of regarding the mind as both scientifically invalid as a subject of study and, moreover, unnecessary from the outset. At its core is the relationship between stimulus and response. All behaviour is explained in these terms and, as a result, behaviourism attempts to reduce behaviour to its principal components. Some forms of mental illness are regarded as bad conditioning; language, superstition and the Mona Lisa are seen to be the end product of countless stimulus-response chains. The deliberate ignorance of mental life made behaviourism a poor contender in the race against cognitivism, and it is now used mainly as a tool in the study of non-human animal behaviour as opposed to a theoretical position on human psychology. Again, like psychoanalysis, behaviourism is undervalued in most universities.

The Biological perspective is another key school of thought. It places an emphasis on the genetic basis of behaviour, and the close connection between behaviour and its underlying physical foundation. Whereas other psychologists may see development in terms of stage-like theories or an accruement of learned experience, biological psychologists talk of maturation, of the emergence of structures that come pre-packaged in our DNA. People can get a bad first impression of biological psychology. Rest assured that it is not eugenic or deterministic; for example, it has no plans to test the IQ of a foetus to save parents the bother of raising a dunce, and certainly does not ignore the role of the environment. Though less controversial in practice, biological psychology touches upon some fascinating questions. Ever wondered why we sleep? Or how? Or the physical mechanisms involved in motivation? In fear? Are humans naturally aggressive or passive? And why can we never recall smells? Biological psychology is also comparative; it examines the behaviour of non-human animals in an evolutionary context (and natural setting) sometimes referred to as ethology.

From a more therapy-centred outlook, the Humanistic-Existential school is based primarily on notions of self-actualisation – of achieving one’s full potential – and the fulfilment of unconditional love. The individual is seen as self-determining and unique. This perspective is difficult to define and susceptible to pigeonholing, but it remains a powerful force in various forms of therapy which seek to avoid the dangers of dehumanisation inherent in the scientific approach.

Specialist Perspectives

There are so many specialist areas that a book the size of a telephone directory would be required to document their entirety. Here I'll restrict myself to the more common areas. An Industrial or Occupational Psychologist works largely within the areas of personnel or marketing. They help to create training programmes, test prospective candidates, advise on optimal working conditions (both physical and social), and help with product marketing, i.e. advertising and sales analysis. Forensic Psychology, whose practitioners are typically employed by the probation service, is concerned with all aspects of criminal behaviour and its treatment. These psychologists work in prisons, youth detention centres and community homes. (They are often called as expert witnesses on matters such as witness credibility.) Educational Psychologists research into teaching methods, carry out educational achievement tests (e.g. IQ) and analyse them, and devise programmes tailored for special needs pupils and students. They are normally employed by a Local Education Authority (LEA). Lastly, perhaps the largest group are the Clinical Psychologists, making up over one third of all psychologists. They are concerned with every aspect of mental illness including its underlying psychological factors, its prevalence and its treatment.

Psychology is undoubtedly unique. It bridges the gap between those two ancient rivals, science and the arts. It places equal weight on numeracy and literacy and tackles issues no sane person would touch with an extended barge pole, and tackles them with gusto.

A hint of bric, a touch of brac

Well, that's a little more than I intended to write, but, you know - pff. You might wonder whether psychology is an appropriate 'route' for a career in writing. Since I have no career, my perspective is limited, but I would say it can't hurt to think hard on questions that relate to the mind. As psychologist, you will also get to know a bit of statistics, some philosophy (not the hard stuff), and a smidgeon of critical thinking. It might turn you into a science fiction author, of course. (Not me; I was a writer of science fiction long before I started my psychological studies, twelve years ago.) As a final note, remember that I'm based in the UK, and some of my comments may not be applicable to psychology as studied in different countries.

You can find out more about psychology from the UK Social Science Information Gateway (I work for these people), the British Psychological Society (BPS), and the American Psychological Association (APA).

World Science

Jack Lucentini dropped me a line to ask me if I'd taken a look at his World Science site. Well, I have now, and it looks like a useful resource. Lots of articles on topics that might interest those who wake up each day thinking, 'Hmm, what's science been up to?' To take two examples, here's some work on classical conditioning in cockroaches (I once had some students who looked into this kind of thing, and it's fascinating - honestly) and whether or not your memories are your own.

Grindstone Cowboy

It occurs to me that I have not, for some time, posted in navel-gazing fashion about the writer's life. So here I go.

One of the most difficult aspects of writing book-length fiction is the geological time scales involved. Really, things do take a bloody long time. I have a few tricks to fool my brain that progress is being made along whatever career path I tread - chiefly, by working on projects at different stages of development - but you do get periods, like now, when 'nothing happens, and happens slowly' (to quote Raymond Chandler).

Here is the state of the griddle in the Hocking kitchen:

• Technothriller novel Flashback completed in first draft. Work left to do: Major rewrites to the first quarter of the book, a second pass at researching some of its elements (Grimm Fairytales, aircraft accident investigation, Berlin, and - brace thyself - lesbianism; I think I can do this by reading four books, as a minimum). Glass half full interpretation: I think it's gripping and works well as a story. Glass half empty interpretation: I'll be working on this bastard until Christmas, very probably.
• Comedy novel Proper Job completed in fourth draft. This needs another rewrite to change the opening (the current version is rather too busy), but the last two thirds should need no more than polishing. That said, as any comedy author will probably tell you, prose polishing is absolutely critical. In a thriller, you can create tension in a number of ways, but with comedy fiction, there's often only one way to make a gag funny; even if you're slightly off target, forget it. In the bin it goes. Half-full interpretation: The book is probably good enough to send out to agents and publishers (one agent already gave me warm feedback, and that was on the bit - the first chapters - that needs most work). Half full interpretation: Fairly near to completion, is probably funny, is something my dad might read. Half empty interpretation: At the rate I'm going, I probably won't have it finished until Christmas either.
• Made-to-order novel. I'm currently in discussions with a publisher to write a book that will fit with their existing 'properties' (action sub-genres). So far, the editor likes my synopsis. I wrote a spec chapter while I was in Germany, and emailed it to him yesterday. It would be good to snag this one. Half full interpretation: This would mark the first time I'll get any money from writing a novel. Half empty interpretation: It would knock out the summer, and might interfere with plans to take some time off (to balance my decision to work through weekends on Flashback last winter).

Oif. I'm glad I'm not working for a company, otherwise my sorry arse would have been fired by now (unless the company is particularly hip and non-results oriented). The whole thing is borderline depressing. Saw the London Marathon on t'telly Sunday morning. I've done the Exeter half-marathon a few times, and I sympathized with the looks of, 'Oh dear Lord, why is this taking so chuffing long? And why do my nipples hurt so much?'

I remember running the race distance along the bank of the River Exe. After the first few miles, the number of people on the towpath would drop to just one every few hundred yards, and it would get cold because I was one of the highest things on the landscape for the wind to blast. I might hear rain on the long grasses. That was when it was easiest to stop. I never did, though. I just looked down at my feet and told myself it was impossible to walk, that running was the slowest gear I had. A reasonably similar situation to writing, I suppose. All motion must be forward, all words must build upon those already written. No point stopping now.

Technorati Tags: flashback, proper job, writing

Why Science Fiction?

A very good question. Eric Rothkirch has some answers over on his blog. I think Isaac Asimov once said that science fiction can be defined as literature about the changes facing mankind, and while I think this is a little grand, I still take pride in telling people that I write science fiction. Ken Macleod, however, told me that Déjà Vu is not science fiction - and I think he's probably right. Science fiction must be contemplative, somewhat in-depth, and should push ideas to the forefront. I'm happy writing about big ideas - artificial intelligence, for example - but I also feel that stories about people, not ideas (though the ideas might be the strongest aspect of a piece of fiction), are the most compelling.

Anywho, Eric's post struck me as interesting, and you might want to check it out.

Technorati Tags: science fiction, writing

An Englishman Abroad

Following a two-week hiatus from my blog, I thought I might make some notes on what I've been up to in the meantime: an Easter break in Germany. My girlfriend is German, and I occasionally accompany her back to Dortmund. You know, the better to - at parties - grip a beer bottle in my sweaty hand and wrack my brains for datives, genitives, and the other half to famous Monty Python phrases.

I did not study German at school. Instead, I studied Latin, thanks to a crazy scheme hatched by my friend Paul that would help us with terminology when we both became medical doctors. Well, Paul became a doctor of the useful type - i.e. medical - and I became a doctor of the long-essay type. So I've learned my German at night classes. Because these classes consist mainly of adults who will leave if the going gets too tough, successive teachers (with some honourable exceptions) have steered well clear of teaching anything fundamental about the language - e.g. its grammar, top one-hundred verbs, and so on - and have resorted to lessons about more prosaic aspects of the language. As a result, I bow to no other in my grasp of obst and gemüse (fruit and vegetables), but the sweat pops out on my forehead when faced with explaining what I do for a living.

To be sure, I should speak German with Britta (my German girlfriend) when we're at home. But consider Britta's thinking: 'This is lovely. But there's something missing. I know! We need to add a layer of complexity and misunderstanding that means Ian will buy milk instead of cinema tickets and put the house on the market in response to an observation about the coffee running low.'

I have, of course, progressed a little. I listen to Neue Deutsche Welle (New German Wave) in the gym, and I know all there is to know about Fred from Jupiter and how many balloons were released by Nena - ninety-nine, by the way. This means I'm perfectly placed to quote from a NDW song in moments of panic, whereupon my German conversational companion will look at me as if I'm an imbecile, then mark my words as English humour (Germans think the English are funny, a belief I'm steadily eroding), and ask me what the hell I think we're up to in Iraq. "Alles Klar, Herr Kommissar?" I will ask cryptically. Then I melt ninja-like into the bushes.

But I have not progressed to the extent that I can discuss Chomskian transformational grammar and its relationship to radical behaviourism. That, on the surface, doesn't sound like it's too much of a problem. But there I am, loitering at the Easter bonfire held in the beautiful grounds of Schloss Bodelschwingh, chatting in awful German to the odd person - while, at the same time, keeping Britta on my radar in case I need to ask for a rapid translation - when a doctor, who lives in the schloss, beckons me towards the light of the bonfire. We chat for a bit and I explain - for the ninth or tenth time that everything - that, yes, I write fiction, and, no, the hourly rate is not brilliant, and, yes, I am also a psychologist.

"Ah!" says the doctor. He takes my elbow and puts me on a bench facing six Germans of various age and gender. He then says something I process in the manner I like to dub 'the six Ps of translation' at high-powered self-improvement workshops:

• (1) Panic.
• (2) Pick out the nouns in the sentence.
• (3) Panic.
• (4) Pick out VERY IMPORTANT words like 'not', 'never', and 'damned'.
• (5) Panic.
• (6) Put the nouns together, as well as the occasional verb that hasn't been chopped up and sprinkled randomly throughout the sentence, and picture Johnny Weismuller speaking them: "You my father-in-law together psychology philosophy speak."

Before I knew it, I was attempting to translate sentences like "It goes without saying that variations in relative clause attachment between English and Spanish speakers has led to..."

There is a seventh step, if needed: melt ninja-like into the bushes.

Overall, the trip to Germany has made for a good break. I managed to work up a initial chapter and in-depth synopsis (at the request of a publisher), and do a little preparation for some upcoming postgraduate tutorials. Once these jobs are out of the way, I will turn my attention to getting my last two manuscripts into print.

Some readers - well, Mum and Dad, and some people who know me - might like to see a couple of photos from the trip. Here they are (the photos, not Mum and Dad and some people who know me). Feel free to click away from this page if you don't find this very interesting.

Here's a nice picture of Anne, Britta's mum, whom we stayed with:

Arie and his new son Sam (new mother Jane is out of shot), whom we visited in Maastricht (if the picture is blurred, blame that on the maddening hour I spent driving around Maastricht trying to find their apartment, and the resultant trembles; rest assured my upper lip lost none of its tensile strength):

David and Christine, friends who gave Britta and me a lift over to Germany:

Me with some hapless German children who were 'volunteered' by Britta to hear a native English speaker read some nursery rhymes. My pig impressions have since passed into Dortmund folklore:

At Dunkerque, leaning on our car - which seemed like a good idea at the time. In retrospect, I look like a suspect invited to 'spread 'em, Monsieur':

Lastly, me at the Easter bonfire, the fastest beer-slinger in Westfalia - at least, until I drank the beer:

Technorati Tags: Deutschland, Germany, Schloss Bodelschwingh

Bric-a-brac

(From the obsolete French à bric et à brac, meaning ‘at random’...) Here are a few things I've spotted on the web over the past week; I note them now because I'm about to bugger off to Germany for a couple of weeks. First up is a series of posts by Sara Gran (heads up from John Barlow). Sara is an American writer who has had some success with her first three novels. She's been describing some of the problems that have befallen her publishing career. Here's one of my favourite bits, phoning her publisher:

"And you are…?"

"Um, I’m one of your writers? I'm publishing a book with you?"

"Oh, oh, okay, sorry."

Eric Rothkirch writes a great post about genre fiction, and the value of the writer putting his or her arse on the chair and getting on with the job. Some interesting thoughts, including:

Sometimes to make a mark on the world, you don't have to be the greatest or the best. You can put out shoddy work. You have the full freedom to make grave storytelling mistakes. It's better if you don't make the mistakes, and it's better if you put out great work instead of mediocre. But that didn't stop the legends of sci-fi from becoming legends.

When everyone else gives up, or stays at home... When everyone else quits or quietly goes away... that is the perfect opportunity for you to make an entrance.

Sometimes, all you have to do is show up.

I have a feeling that Brother Rothkirch speaketh the truth.

And, despite an introductory sentence that declares 'Brett Easton Ellis is a phenomenon' (grrr), I can recommend a series of video interviews with this author over on the BBC Collective. I haven't read any of his works, but I've certainly heard of them: Less Than Zero, American Psycho, Lunar Park. He's an engaging interviewee and discusses the craft of writing, among other things.

Talking of interviews, I presume you've already come across the fantastic Don Swain interview archive. Throughout the 1980s, many of the best writers swung through his small New York studio, and this website presents the unedited footage: Norman Mailer, John Updike, Frederick Forsythe, Robert Ludlum, Douglas Adams, Gore Vidal, and lots more. Classic.

Otherwise, Michael Allen (aka Grumpy Old Bookman) is serialising his latest novel, How and Why Lisa's Dad Got to be Famous, for free over on his website. And are you finding it difficult to wring enough productivity from the damp towel of your day? Steve Pavlina may have an answer for you. Lastly, via Joe Gordon over at Forbidden Planet International, comes intel that Scottish author Ken Macleod (who will I always owe big time for being the first 'proper author' to read my book and provide me with some blurb; said blurb probably being instrumental in getting me subsequent reviews...) has been discussing what it's like to be nominated, simultaneously, on three sci-fi prize shortlists. Ken's new book is called Learning the World.

Hocking out.

Technorati Tags: books, brett easton ellis, don swaim, grumpy old bookman, michael allen, ken macleod, sara gran, writing

Déjà Vu hiatus

With due apologies to those who are dying to download the next exciting instalment of my podcast novel, Déjà Vu, I must report a brief hiatus. The next episode should air in two weeks' time. What temerity! I know. But I have to go to Germany for a couple of weeks - you know, to look on in fear as people gabble in a language I barely gasp.

Scott Pack set to join The Friday Project

Scott Pack, currently head buyer for the UK bookchain Waterstone's, emailed me to say to he's about to take up a post with The Friday Project, a publisher that (according to their website) seems to specialize in turning blogs into books. It's not an idea that sets my world on fire, but they've obviously attracted Scott, whose probably didn't to be head buyer at Waterstone's without a fairly sharp business brain. I expect we'll be hearing more of The Friday Project, and Mr Pack, in the near future. Check out this press release for more details. Oh, and The Friday Project has a blog.

Technorati Tags: scott pack, the friday project, waterstone's

Dan Brown acquitted

It looks as though Dan Brown has been acquitted of plagiarizing the central conceit of his novel, The Da Vinci Code, from authors Michael Baigent and Richard Leigh. Baigent and Leigh published a book called The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail (1982, new edition out Sept this year). Relief all round, I think. I'm relieved because a conviction would have been - to use a legal term - bonkers. Brown is relieved because the publicity will boost his paperback edition of The Da Vinci Code and Messrs Baigent and Leigh (and the third author of the work, the 'silent partner' Henry Lincoln) will be relieved by the explosive inflation of their royalty cheques. It should help Leigh particularly, who has new books to shift. This from his website:

Richard Leigh has recently completed a novel in which an antinomian hermetic numinist confronts the conflict between artistic detachment and political commitment set against the turbulence of the Civil Rights Movement in Mississippi, the Vietnam War, and the troubles in Northern Ireland.

An antinomian hermetic numinist? Put me down for a dozen.

*Whistles tunelessly*

Oh, God, I can't hold it in any longer: The Da Vinci Code was fucking awful! Awful, I tell you! Jeeeeez. I mean. Really. You know? Erghf.

I need a cup of tea.

Update: Maxine (over at Petrona) commented on the judge's remarks, and I hadn't looked at them. I have now. They're fairly amusing:

By virtue of various mergers and acquisitions Random publishes both The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail and The Da Vinci Code. It is a testament to cynicism in our times that there have been suggestions that this action is nothing more than a collaborative exercise designed to maximise publicity for both books. It is true that the book sales of both books have soared during the course of the trial. I am not in a position to comment on whether this cynical view is correct but I would say that if it was such a collaborative exercise Mr Baigent and Mr Brown both went through an extensive ordeal in cross examination which they are likely to remember for some time.

Technorati Tags: books, comedy, da vinci, dan brown, publishing, puppy

Kafka, Rowling, Lem

It's been a busy morning so far. In the gym by seven, where I perfected my exercise-while-you-sleep routine and listened to the Engadget podcast, as well as some New German Wave, which, laughably, I think will prepare me for the German conversations due next week, as I travel to Dortmund with my girlfriend. Between now and bedtime I'll need to mark at least two postgraduate scripts (coupla hours each), continue editing on Proper Job, remember some changes to Flashback that occurred while I was sleeping in the gym, do some housework, and think about a synopsis I've been asked to put together for a publisher.

So I'll need to be brief with this post, but there are few bits of literary news to flag up. Via The Elegant Variation (named after a Fowler article), I had a look as this Canadian article that reports on the large crowd that gathered for the funeral of Polish author Stanislaw Lem. Lem was a curious figure, to be sure, but there is no doubt that his novel Solaris (filmed twice) represents one of the greatest science fiction works of the twentieth century. I'm not sure I'd class it, if pressed, as a great novel full stop, but I have never read a book that captures the alienness of extraterrestrials with the fluency and wonder of Lem - even though he hated the English translation, if memory serves. Those who haven't read Lem might regard him as a little obscure, but find yourself a copy of Solaris forthwith. It's worth it.

And so to a story about his Exchequerness, Dr Gordon Brown. It seems that he knows how to big up a book, and to do so he has recruited big names including Al Gore, Nelson Mandela and - bizarrely - J. K. Rowling to rewrite introductions to the various sections of his new book, which is a collection of speeches. As booktrade.info observes,

The sales record set last year by the sixth Harry Potter novel, which sold an unprecedented 2m copies in 24 hours, looks safe.

Finally, over at the feisty Literary Saloon, news comes that Haruki Murakami has won the Franz Kafke Prize, awarded by the Czech Franz Kafka Society each Spring. Winners of this award have, in the past two years, gone on to win the Nobel, so will the Kafka magic work for Murakami? Who knows. This guy is held in high regard, but I've only read one of his works: Kafka by the Shore. For the first half of the book, I thought the guy was a genius; for the second half, I thought he was a cheat. At the end, I was ambivalent. I don't like a writer who doesn't deliver at the level of the story (though, of course, he might have delivered in a way I didn't understand). Two words: Chekhov's gun. By the way, if you haven't read Kafka, don't be put off by the literary laurels. Kafka is an extraordinary writer who can make the often unhappy marriage of tone and theme work seamlessly, as in Stokes's translation of 'The Trial' (though 'The Process' would be a better title).

OK, gotta go. The gerbils - Coffee and Erich - have gone quiet. I think they might be hatching another escape attempt through the floor of the Soil Biome.

Technorati Tags: books, fiction, gordon brown, kafka, lem, solaris

The Abuse of Online Review Systems

A very interesting article flagged up by Steve Clackson over on his Sandstorm blog suggests that online reviews may be subject to more abuse than their hosts would have us believe.

This paper reports initial findings from a study that used quantitative and qualitative research methods and custom–built software to investigate online economies of reputation and user practices in online product reviews at several leading e–commerce sites (primarily Amazon.com). We explore several cases in which book and CD reviews were copied whole or in part from one item to another and show that hundreds of product reviews on Amazon.com might be copies of one another. We further explain the strategies involved in these suspect product reviews, and the ways in which the collapse of the barriers between authors and readers affect the ways in which these information goods are being produced and exchanged.

I think this confirms the common wisdom about Amazon reviews: take them with a pinch of salt. Unless they're written by Debra Hamel.

Technorati Tags: books, fiction, puppy

Speaking up for Poetry

Prompted by an interesting post over on John Barlow's blog, where he suggests that the potty Steve Jobs should not call recording industry conglomerates black, I remembered something I wanted to say about poetry on iTunes.

As an active podcaster, learned much about the dark arts of podcasting I have. It's a nice feeling to get my novel 'out there' in audio form, but I'm beginning to think that podcasting is better suited to shorter forms of fiction, including poetry. It seems to me that this model has the potential to earn poets a bit of cash. (You think writers have got money worries? Never mind that only, say, 10% of all published writers in the UK can support themselves on their writing alone. How many poets can support themselves? Three?)

I'm a writer who cares very much about his fiction at the level of the sentence, but I'm just buggering about in the foothills of the mountains that poets regularly climb. So I see poets as the true writers, if you will, and a little noble because they do what they do for love.

The iTunes store has given me an opportunity to access many poetic works, and the spoken form is ideal. If there is one thing I really hate, it's people who read too quickly, but this is exactly what I do when confronted with a poem; gulp it down, think, is that it? and move on. But poetry in the audio mode - its native medium - forces the listener to experience the poem at the pace of the reader, and them the strange magic of the words can tell.

One of my most treasured MP3s is the Seamus Heaney (inset) translation of Beowulf, the tenth-cenutry epic about a sixth-cenutry Scandinavian warrior. Slowed down, the rhythm of the language starts to snag your thoughts, and the poem blooms. It is lengthy (2hrs 15mins), but represents, perhaps, some of the finest English language material in my possession, and I often return to it when I get bogged down in editing my own work and I want to remember that potential of English captured by Heaney and the anonymous author(s) of the original.

Here are a couple of the best poetic pieces I've purchased online, with iTunes music store URLs:

• The Best Poems of All Time, Vols 1 and 2 - a superb collection that boasts Shakespeare (Sonnet Eighteen rocks), Poe, Coleridge, Omar Kayam, and some excellent snippets from the Bible (not the Good News rubbish, but the King James). Pros: Production quality, cost. Each volume is only a fiver. Cons: Virtually no work by female poets, and some of the accents are dodgy.
• Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas. Ah, that Bible-black night. 24-carat stuff, and Richard Burton's impression of Anthony Hopkins is nicely done.

So far, poetry seems to be underrepresented on iTunes. I hope that will change. Poetry is ideally suited to the shortish form of audio, where novel-length wordage can founder. Yeah, iTunes is good for music. This I know. But you can't argue with a good actor reading Shakespeare's Sonnet Eighteen.

AmazonConnect: Connecting Readers with Writers

Well, maybe. AmazonConnect is a newish scheme launched by, who else, Amazon.com, in which authors can contribute to a blog whose entries then appear on the personalized pages of readers who bought their book. Apparently, entries also show up on Amazon.com book searches, so we authors can reach readers who have yet to wallow in the muddy delights of our fiction. Amazon.com like to call this blog a plog - I just hope they're aware they copied it from Roger. I found out about the scheme via Debra Hamel, ace reviewer.

Over on Galleycat, there's a sniffy article about the AmazonConnect plog. The article was prompted by an email from Amazon.com to their 'ploggers' that asked them, in prickly fashion, to raise the quality of their posts. I can see why this might lead to a certain sniffiness: Amazon.com is getting free content from - presumably - talented writers, and has the temerity to check the mouth of this gift horse for further goodies.

Well, I'm reasonably happy with the scheme. I've crafted my first plog entry, which appears here on the product page, and I think it looks quite nice (i.e. it is placed in a manner that pleases my jaundice-yellow eye).

There are couple of thing I don't like, however. This being Amazon.com, I have learned to look for the part of the scheme that's been buggered up by poor implementation. There is no protocol to submit entries to the plog using a method other than the rather clumsy - and applet-infested - page on Amazon.com. News for you, Amazon.com: Just because I'm author, I don't spend my life gazing at the cluttered mess of my 'personalized' homepage, so the plog is something I'll have to remind myself to do. And - like the washing-up - I can see myself lapsing regularly. Why can't I plug it straight into Ecto, my blogging software?

I always expect a little give-and-take with Amazon.com. For example, my publisher gives them the details of my book, they take any the word 'English' from the 'language' metadata field and replace it with - "Gee, what random language can put on this guy's book?" - Spanish.

Oh, how I laughed when I saw that. A book with a French title written in Spanish by an author that nobody in America knows from Adam. Imagine my continued laughter that, only fourteen months later and following a slew of emails from my publisher and from me, the busy bods at Amazon.com have still not found the time to correct it.

Mmmm. I love businesses that are so large they switch from human time to geological time.

However, carping aside - hey, what's a writer to do but carp? - this is a nice opportunity to reach out to readers. They should brace themselves.

Michael Allen's How and Why Lisa's Dad Got to Be Famous

Anyone interested critical and enlightening comments on publishing, literature and writing will be on cyber-nodding terms with Grumpy Old Bookman, cited by the Guardian, a leading UK newspaper, as 'one of the top ten literary blogs'. Beneath the superhero mask is one Michael Allen, a long-time writer of fiction, and publisher in his own write. Nobody - perhaps even Michael - seems to know how many books he has written, such is the variety of pseudonyms he has employed. But there's little doubt that Michael can turn out a well-crafted phrase or two, evidenced by his blog and a couple of quotes about his previous fiction: 'Absolutely first class', The Bookseller; 'Solidly constructed', New York Times Book Review; 'Don't miss it', The Observer.

So you could probably do worse than pick up a copy of Michael's new book, How and Why Lisa's Dad Got to Be Famous. On the basis of his publishing pedigree, it will do you no harm whatsoever to scoot over to this page at Kingsfield publications, where you can purchase the book or - here's the clever bit - download it for free. If Michael will pardon the idiom, he appears to be one old dog who is not afraid of picking up a new trick or two. In contrast to the slow-on-the-uptake traditional publishing industry, Michael is aware that (in the words of Cory Doctorow, another author who releases his books for free) people will not fail to buy your book because they've got a free copy of your book; they'll fail to buy your book because they've never bloody heard of you.

Michael's publication licence permits the book to be quoted at length. Here we go:

GREETINGS

Hello Lisa. This is for you.

And hello to everyone else too.

Lisa is my daughter. I don't see her as much as I'd like because she lives with her Mum. We used to be married, Lisa's Mum and me, but now we're not.

Lisa is still quite young. She's eight now. Seven when this business started. She's a bit too young to understand all of this just yet. But one day she'll be grown up, and when she is I want her to be able to read this story. If I'm not around to tell her myself.

Of course, Lisa may understand more than I think, al- ready. They grow up quick these days. And I know she's seen all the TV shows - even when they first went out, late at night. But there've been a lot of lies and foolishness printed about me and Debbie, and I don't want her to believe all that. And there haven't been just stories in the papers, either. There've been books and CDs and DVDs and documenta- ries, and endless stuff like that. Con tells me there have even been pirate copies of the TV programmes. Which means that people are selling the TV series without paying the company a fee. They sell them in the Far East, and Africa. It's very big in Africa.

So there's been a lot of fuss and - well, nonsense. So I want Lisa to know what really happened.

This is my side of the story. The true story.

You can read more about the book, including an interview with the author, here.