Writing Negative Reviews

This week I went back and read Electron Deception’s negative show review from April (sorry, I'm not linking to that). I was really trying to see if any of our efforts to drive it down in the Google search results had worked (they hadn’t), but it got me thinking about the purpose of reviewing things, especially local things.

 

Ultimately, as I’ve considered this topic, I believe that writers who decide to cover local events should actually avoid giving negative reviews, at least initially. If communities are going to thrive and produce things (arts, restaurants, etc.) people have to actually go out and support those things; negative reviews, on the other hand, prompt people to avoid local activities and can contribute to increased isolation. Taken to their extreme, they also eventually kill off local endeavors and leave people with few options other than chain restaurants, generic music, and mediocre art.

 

I’m not suggesting here that writers simply lie and say that everything local is good. Instead, I would hope that when covering a community, they focus on the positive. If a restaurant, musician, etc. isn’t great, simply chose to cover something else. If at some point something becomes so big and so ubiquitous that members of the community have begun weighing on it with various opinions, then it might be time to start writing honest, hard-hitting reviews. I know that’s a nebulous distinction to make, but the vast majority of local entrepreneurs and artists aren’t becoming rich, famous, and powerful. Instead, they’re struggling to make ends meet and a single negative review can sometimes force them out of business.

 

Of course, negative reviews may prompt people to improve whatever it is they’re trying to sell. When Electron Deception got our scathing review we genuinely tried to address some of it’s more legitimate points. On the other hand, most of our efforts have never been heard by anyone; our shows often don’t have huge attendance and the review has certainly not done anything to improve that. In fact, despite our efforts, we think the negative review may have caused some people to not come see us, even after we’ve changed our sound considerably. If the people who wrote the review had wanted to improve the music scene they could simply given their suggestions to us privately, let us work on them, and waited to see what had happened. If they had done that we would have been happier of course, but local venues might have made more money when we played there (because more people would have wanted to come out) and parties would have been livelier (for the same reason). However, as it was, the negative review only dampened the music scene across the board.

 

Electron Deception is just one small band and few people will probably remember us, but I think this incident is illustrative of the anti-community effects of negative reviews generally. If a writer, blogger, or journalist decides to condemn a local theater production or restaurant, for example, people will go elsewhere. If you live in New York where there are hundreds (or thousands) of local performances and food establishments all the time this probably isn’t as big a deal. However, if you live in a mid-sized town (like Provo, Utah, for example) people don’t necessarily have other options. A scathing review of a single local theater production can thusly put an end to all or most of local theater generally. A bad review of a local restaurant can drive people to chains (which typically serve terrible food). In both situations innovation is stifled, local economies suffer, and people interact less with each other.

 

Journalists certainly don’t have the responsibility to advertise for local businesses and events. Journalistic integrity is important and should be defended. (I would argue, however, that that doesn’t apply to the blogosphere, where many local reviews take place. A negative review on a blog seems closer to cyberbulling than journalistic honesty to me.) Still, if we want to live in vibrant places where diversity and creativity abound, it’s important to ask ourselves if what we’re writing is going to bolster that community, or stifle it. 

Blogging Part 2

If my last post was based on my impressions about the post before it, this one is kind of “State of the Blog” address. 

 

Besides having to take time to think about the nature of blogging, I’ve also been posting less for other reasons as well.  First, I’ve been working every day as a video editor, which has occupied my time.  Second, I am now submitting articles once or twice a week to the new online magazine Rhombus.  If you haven’t read Rhombus yet, you should.  In my case, I’m basically submitting stuff that would be on this blog, but usually with more immediate relevancy to the larger world.  (In other words, I might not submit film reviews of old movies, fashion tips, or criticisms of LDS church magazines.)  Though I won’t have an article in Rhombus everyday, I will have one in it frequently and many of the other writers are also quite engaging as well.   

 

What this means for this blog is that posts will probably continue to be less frequent.  (I’m hoping for once or twice a week.)  Also, the topics will probably tend to be those things I mentioned above as not being appropriate or timely for a magazine.  Obviously I will try to continue to bring a critical eye to everything that I write about, however, so hopefully this blog will be as engaging (or offensive) with each post.  Because I’ll be sending some of my more decorous writing to Rhombus, the blog may become even more engaging (and offensive) as I try to take it in a less “journalistic” (or perhaps “column-istic”) direction.  (Unfortunately posts may also become even less polished as I have less time to proof read and edit them.) 

 

While the primary purpose of this blog was hopefully to start discussions, I also began doing it as a way to practice writing quickly and for a more popular/broader audience that I’m used to in school.  I also saw it as a way to think critically about popular cultural (which I believe is infinitely more important than anything I’ve written about or discussed in school.)  When I started writing for Rhombus about a week ago I understood that doing so would take away from these pursuits.  After all, I only have so much time and energy for writing.  However, I also saw it as a way to engage with more people and to have an editor telling me what should and shouldn’t be out there for people to read. 

 

(You can read my first two Rhombus articles here and here.  Also check back frequently because I should have stuff in there often.)

Blogging

I’ve done terribly with posting these last few weeks and a big part of that was that the comments on my last post surprised me in a few ways.  First, I was surprised that anyone commented at all because I didn’t send a facebook update telling people to take a look at the post.  Second, however (and more importantly), I was surprised that my impression about the purpose of blogging is (or at least was) very different that most people’s. 

 

I think that what surprised me most about the comments on my last post was that many people apparently assume an underlying hierarchy when they read something online.  In other words, the author or blogger’s post takes precedence and no one else’s voice can be as authoritative or as dominant.  Obviously this is true with online news or literature or whatever.  However, I was surprised to see that it is also true for blogging as well.  Of course, other people can comment, but those comments are entirely secondary in some people’s opinions.  (Obviously not everyone who commented felt this way, and my impressions are based as much on conversations I had outside of the blog as they are by the comments.)

 

As I’ve thought about this idea I think everyone who indicated that a hierarchy exists in blogging is right, though unfortunately so.  Because the Internet is (theoretically) universally accessible, and because most blog hosting companies (google, wordpress, etc.) allow for comments, I initially felt that the medium could be like one big classroom.  Significantly, however, my impression was that it would be more like a classroom without a teacher; everyone’s voice would be different but equal and the author of the posts would merely be a kind of moderator who brought up topics. 

 

What I’ve learned is that though blogging may be like a classroom, but there is definitely a “teacher” present who controls that space.  A reader may not like the teacher, or respect him or her, but there is still a person who dominates.  This happens symbolically as people choose to enter someone else’s site, but it also happens literally as comments are placed beneath the original post and visible only someone clicks on the actual entry. 

 

I have no conclusions for this post.  What I hoped to have happen can not, because as much as I want it to, people (you perhaps, if you’re reading this) usually interpret blogs differently than I imagined.  I am now left to wonder if there can be an online venue for discussion that is more democratic.

Anonymous Blogging

For the most part, anonymous blogging is a really bad idea.  This point is illustrated by a recent case in Pittsburg, where a woman lost her job when her anonymous blog was outed. 

 

Obviously that doesn’t happen to everyone, but as soon as someone begins publishing nameless material others will start trying to guess who is really behind it.  Because people will interpret differently, imposing their own values and preconceptions onto the blogs, the revelation of the real author will almost always come as a disappointment.  The person behind the persona won’t live up to expectations, and in the end everyone will be more disappointed than if the blogger’s name had been available from the beginning.  What’s more, remaining a nameless author in today’s world is simply an unrealistic goal.  Though it may historically have worked well for political figures, philosophers, etc. who managed to assume a kind of “everyman” role, similar results are increasingly impossible in a digital world where an author’s identity is only a mouse click and subpoena away. (This article discusses both the case mentioned above as well as some others.)

 

Besides the practical problems of remaining nameless in a digital world, anonymity reeks of cowardice.  By it’s very nature the internet isolates people somewhat, at least physically, and that perceived isolation can lead to perceived freedoms; if someone is simply on their computer they may feel at liberty to say whatever they want, no matter how questionable.  (I know that I’ve fallen into this trap many times before and some extreme cases might be called cyber bullying.)  Anonymity lets someone have all that freedom, without any consequences or repercussions. In other words, anonymous bloggers disregard accountability for their writing.

 

Ultimately, there may always be a need for conscientious but nameless observers to decry problems in society.  However there will always be an even greater need for people who are willing to put their names on the line for progress.  Hopefully the blogosphere will get a few more people with the guts to take that risk.