Finding Happiness in Los Angeles

by Oliver Markus Malloy

  I opened an account on Goodreads. I figured this would be the perfect place to promote Sex and Crime. A whole website full of millions of people who love books! Awesome! I joined a discussion group for writers. I introduced myself and made some new friends.

  One of the other writers warned me not to get too excited about Goodreads: "The people on this website are not your friends. The other writers are your competitors, and a lot of the readers are really hostile towards authors."

  I dismissed his warning. Why the hell would readers hate authors? That didn't make any sense. Readers love books. Authors write books. So logically, readers should love authors. I figured he personally just had a bad experience, but that didn't mean everyone else had the same experience. Maybe his book was just not very good. I figured I wouldn't have any problems. To know me is to love me. I'm adorable! The readers would embrace me and my book. I was sure of it.

  So I made my profile, added Sex and Crime to some lists that allowed readers to vote on their favorite books, added some friends and sent them a personal message:

  "Hi! I'm new to Goodreads. I saw some of your reviews, and I figured you might like my book Sex and Crime. It's similar to some of the other books you've reviewed. If you're interested, I'd be happy to send you a free review copy."

  Every day I added a few more friends, and sent out a few more friendly messages to people who might enjoy my book, based on the books they had previously reviewed on their profile.

  Some people ignored me. Some people thanked me but told me they didn't have time to read my book because they already had a long waiting list of books they planned to read next. And some people thanked me and said they'd love to read my book. I sent them a copy and they read it. Some loved it and some didn't.

  And then I met the trolls.

  Some of the people I had contacted and asked if they'd like to read my book acted like I had highly offended them. Like I had committed a terrible crime by offering them a free copy of my book.

  But of course it wasn't really about me or my book. Trolls just enjoy hurting other people for no reason. It makes them feel powerful and important to be able to hurt others online. Every popular website has its share of trolls hiding among regular users. The're cyberbullies, plain and simple.

  Cyberbullies love Goodreads, because there is a severe power imbalance between readers and authors. An author has to use his real name or his pen name, and only gets to have one account that is linked to his books. Cyberbullies can open as many accounts as they like under random pseudonyms. If one of their many accounts gets deleted for violating the terms of the site, they just open another one. Or two. Or three. If an author loses his author account, he's shit out of luck. That makes him the perfect victim.

  On top of that authors often use their real face in their profile picture, while Goodreads trolls hide behind cartoon characters or pictures of the devil or a grinning monster, because they want to seem intimidating and cool.

  And the author bares his soul in his books, while the trolls hide behind fake profiles. A lot of them even registered their accounts in different countries, because Goodreads has a ranking system for each individual country to highlight the most prolific readers. If you can't cut it in America, you might still be the #1 most active book reviewer in Afghanistan.

  And the trolls never trash an author alone. They travel in herds, because trolls are cowards and feel stronger in a group.

  They trashed my book with undeserved one-star-reviews. They didn't even read my book. They just trashed it out of pure spite. To "punish" me for having the audacity to send them a private message and offer them a free copy of my book.

  They wrote all kinds of hateful comments, mocking me for writing them a personal message, and calling me a spammer. They claimed it was very rude to contact people directly and try to force them to buy my book.

  What the fuck were these idiots on? I hadn't tried to sell them anything. I offered a free copy to a handful of people I had selected because they obviously enjoyed similar books. Or so they claimed in their reviews.

  I noticed that a lot of the readers on Goodreads claimed to have read hundreds of books. Some claimed they read thousands. Some bragged that in just the past year alone they read over a thousand books. I saw one lady who claimed she read over 1500 books in the last 12 months.

  That's 125 books a month. Or 4 books per day. This women seriously claimed she read 4 whole books each and every single day. Every. Single. Day. Four whole books.

  Obviously that's impossible. You can't even make your eyeballs move across each line of text quickly enough to eyeball-scan 4 complete books line by line in one day. Unless you "speed read" by skipping most pages and randomly skimming a few paragraphs here and there. But that's not reading. If your brain didn't have time to absorb and digest the content of a book, you didn't actually read it, even if your eyeballs bounced around the pages a little.

  So why would this woman make such a ridiculous claim?

  Because it gave her a dopamine kick.

  I realized that for a lot of the users on Goodreads it wasn't even about the books. Maybe it was what first attracted them to the site. But now it was about adding more and more books to their profile. Because each new book they added to their list of books they claimed to have read, gave them a little dopamine kick. They were addicted to watching the numbers on their profile grow.

  Just like people on Facebook are addicted to having thousands of so-called friends. You know, random strangers you've never even met, never talked to, don't care about, and don't ever think about. You know, Facebook friends. The huge number next to your name that makes you feel important. Because you think it makes you look popular. And that gives you a dopamine kick.

  Goodreads was just as addicting as all the other social media websites. And people were doing the strangest things to get their constant stream of little dopamine kicks.

  Some people added tens of thousands of books to their "Want to Read" list. One guy had over 53,000 books on his list. Think about how much work it is to even just click a button 53,000 times! He couldn't read that many books in ten lifetimes. So what's the point of making that list? Shouldn't he only list books he actually wanted to read soon?

  No, because it wasn't really about the books. It was about the big number. The bigger the number, the better he felt about himself. He was addicted to clicking that button next to each and every book he saw, and watch the number next to his name grow.

  Other people added thousands of books to their list of books they supposedly had read. And they posted dozens or even hundreds of reviews of books they didn't even read, hoping to be the most popular reviewer in Uzbekistan or Sierra Leone. And they craved the likes their fake reviews got. The more reviews they posted, the more likes they got. And if they didn't have time to read all these books, they just made shit up. Just to get more likes.

  I didn't just get fake negative reviews on Goodreads. I got fake positive ones, too. Some people were leaving positive reviews for some of my books, even though they clearly didn't read them. It was fucking bizarre. I felt like I was still mingling with addicts. Only these addicts were addicted to social media instead of heroin.

  JENNY

  "A thought, even a possibility, can shatter and transform us."

  Friedrich Nietzsche

  "In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle our inner spirit."

  Albert Schweitzer

  Of course not everyone on Goodreads was a weirdo or addicted to likes and large numbers. A lot of people on Goodreads were nice, normal readers who really did enjoy books.

  One of the girls who read Sex and Crime lived in California. Her name was Jenny. She posted an angry review of my book and only gave it three stars. But I could tell that she really did read it.

  I sent Jenny a private message and thanked her for taking the time to write a review
. Most people who actually care about reading books, and not about getting likes on social media, usually don't bother posting reviews. They're too lazy. And the little bit of free time they have, they'd rather spend reading than posting on social media. Understandable.

  Jenny replied that she enjoyed reading my book but she was mad because I said every drug addicted girl eventually ends up having sex for drugs, once the addiction gets bad enough.

  She said she was addicted to crystal meth. She had been on meth for a few years already, and never had sex with anyone for drugs or money.

  I told Jenny that I had no experience with meth. All the girls I knew were on heroin or crack. But I assumed the addiction to meth progressed in a very similar way. Maybe not exactly the same way, because meth lasts longer, so you need less per day to get high, which means you need less money.

  "I guess a meth addiction is cheaper to feed than a crack addiction. So maybe you simply haven't gotten to the point yet where you need so much meth that you can't afford it anymore and have to sell sex. From your perspective, Sex and Crime is a glimpse into your future. Things that haven't happened to you yet, but will happen to you sooner or later," I wrote.

  "Well, I hope not," Jenny replied.

  We messaged back and forth for a few days and then we started talking on the phone. She called me almost every day.

  She was really sweet. She was a twenty-something Vietnamese girl who grew up in San Francisco. She sent me some pictures. She was self-concious because she was a little chubby, but she had a pretty face.

  She had a boyfriend. He was also addicted to meth. They lived in his parents' house. Jenny sold meth to other addicts and used the profits to finance her own habit.

  Most drug dealers are not like what you see in movies or gangsta rap videos. They're not rich bigshots driving around in red Ferraris with their pockets full of dollar bills. That's just the fake image that lures poor ghetto kids into the drug world. They think they'll make lots of money.

  In reality, most drug dealers are drug addicts themselves. They don't make any money, because they keep using their own product, instead of selling it. Or they're addicts who sell a little bit on the side, to their friends. Jenny wasn't a drug kingpin like Scarface or Pablo Escobar. She was just an innocent, sweet young girl who was trying to survive.

  One day she told me my book made her think about her life.

  I was so happy to hear that! If my book made just one person sober up, it did its job. I couldn't help Lucy or Nicole or any of the other girls here in Florida. But maybe somehow, in some strange way, my book would help this girl get clean in California.

  She said: "I'm gonna quit! I told my boyfriend that he has to stay in the garage while I detox, so he doesn't make me relapse when he smokes meth."

  "I don't think that's gonna work," I said. "Even if he stays in the garage for a few days, as soon as he stays with you in your bedroom again, and he does meth in front of you, you'll relapse. If you're serious about getting clean, you need to get as far away from other addicts as possible."

  "I guess you're right," she said. "But I have nowhere else to go. I wish I could fly to Florida and stay with you."

  I laughed: "I don't think your boyfriend is gonna like that idea."

  A day or two later she called me back: "I did it! I quit!"

  "Wow! That was fast! How long have you been sober? When was the last time you smoked meth?" I asked.

  "This morning!" she said proudly.

  "The last time you smoked meth was this morning? A few hours ago?"

  "Yeah! Isn't that great?" she asked. She was so proud of herself, I didn't want to burst her bubble. Meth lasts for hours. So if she took her last hit a few hours ago, she was still high right now. She wasn't sober at all. And as soon as this hit would begin to wear off, she'd take the next hit.

  We made some small talk and said good night. The next day she called me back. She sounded down in the dumps.

  "What's the matter?" I asked.

  "I relapsed last night, after we hung up," she confessed. She was so disappointed in herself.

  I didn't have the heart to tell her that yesterday was a completely normal day, and she did absolutely nothing different than any other day. She took some meth, thought she was sober while she was high, and then took her next hit a few hours later.

  "Don't feel bad," I tried to comfort her. "You can always try again."

  For the next few days, she kept talking about getting clean. She told me she was sober, then the next day told me she had relapsed again. Over and over. I felt really bad for her.

  Meanwhile she had discovered that some cyberbullies on Goodreads had trashed my book simply for the fun of it.

  "These assholes didn't even read your book!" she yelled.

  "I know. They're just trolls. That's what trolls do. They just try to hurt others for no particular reason. They get off on it." I replied casually.

  But Jenny wouldn't let it go. She decided to defend my honor. She started arguing with my trolls. That's exactly what they want when they trash an author's book. They hope it will hurt the author so much, that he will feel compelled to try to defend himself against the unfair, unfounded claims about his book.

  The Goodreads terms of service state that authors shouldn't try to defend themselves. Authors should just leave negative reviews alone. Supposedly it's unprofessional to defend yourself when you're an author. What a bunch of bullshit!

  Can you imagine any other website telling you that you shouldn't defend yourself against cyberbullies who hurt you simply for the fun of it? No of course not. But on Goodreads, that's how it works.

  Readers can write whatever they want about you and your books. The terms of service even specifically stated that readers don't actually have to read a book before writing a review.

  Why would they have absurd rules like that? Because it's not really about the books, or the authors. Like every other website, they're in the business of making money. They want to be the one and only platform where people go to discuss books. So all they care about is attracting as many users as possible to post on their platform and not somewhere else, like Library Thing or BookBub.

  They don't care if along the way there are a few casualties. Who cares if some author's book gets unfairly trashed and now he can't sell any more copies of his book because people think the fake one-star-reviews are real reviews, not just spiteful trolling. Who cares if an author's career is ruined by trolls? There are millions of other authors. Millions of other books. Nobody will ever even notice if your book has been destroyed by trolls. No one will even notice if there's one less author.

  So don't expect any help from Goodreads if trolls trash your work. They'll actually side with the trolls. If you reply to trolls, they don't get banned. You do. Great concept!

  I had followed the advice and tried not to argue with the trolls who trashed my book. But when Jenny engaged them and tried to stick up for me all by herself against a horde of spiteful jerks, I felt compelled to engage them as well, to stick up for her.

  I responded to them calmly and pointed out that it was obvious from their comments that they didn't read my book, so it wasn't fair to leave fake one-star-reviews. The trolls cackled and replied with all sorts of insults and told me that the terms state they didn't have to read my book before trashing it. And then the herd of trolls liked their own comments a bunch of times and reported Jenny's and my replies as offensive. Jenny and I had our accounts banned.

  Of course. Makes perfect sense.

  I still talked to Jenny on the phone every day after we didn't go on Goodreads anymore. She felt bad about getting me banned. I told her it was ok.

  I saw that the herd of trolls wasn't just doing this to me. Somehow that made me feel better.

  Every day the herd attacked another author They trashed his book without reading it, provoked him into responding, and then reported his responses as offensive over and over. It was what they did for entertainment. Trashing books and getting auth
ors banned.

  I wonder when the last time was that any of these trolls actually read a book.

  I just ignored them. At this point in my life I had dealt with so much adversity that a couple of online trolls barely registered on my radar. And I hoped that the real readers on Goodreads had enough common sense to ignore the fake one-star-reviews, because they realized there was a serious troll problem.

  I could see what that first writer meant when he warned me about the people on this site. I googled Goodreads trolls. And sure enough, the web is full of horror stories from other authors who had their books destroyed by cyberbullies on Goodreads, and they received absolutely no help. Instead their accounts were banned when they tried to defend themselves. Crazy!