Gather ye round, one and all. Your Auntie Casey is here today to discuss something that we’re probably all aware of, but perhaps hadn’t given a great deal of thought. I will do my level best to stay off of the soap box, but I make no promises.
We’re here today to discuss the real-world consequences of pirating a book. Perhaps you have done this in the past. I am not going to tell you that it was fine, because it wasn’t. However, every single one of us has made mistakes, and will continue to do so in the future. My point today is to attempt to shed some light on the subject and hopefully give you some food for thought.
First, allow me to direct you to this essay by Maggie Stiefvater (Editor’s note: in between the original writing of this post and the publication, Stiefvater deleted her tumblr — the linked essay is from the Wayback Machine archive). Long story short: Stiefvater had such a piracy problem with the third novel in her Raven Cycle series, Blue Lily, Lily Blue, that sales for the e-book version were about half of what they were for the first two volumes, The Raven Boys and The Dream Thieves. Stiefvater pointed out the piracy issue to her publishers, was told that it wasn’t a problem, but still agreed to her insistence that there be no eARCs available anywhere for the final novel, The Raven King. Sales for book three were so down that the publishers ordered a print run for The Raven King that was less than half of what was ordered for book three. There’s more to this story, including a cunning plan set into motion by Stiefvater and her brother, and an ultimate triumph that means we get more books in this universe. However, the planned hardcover box set for the entire Raven Cycle was cancelled due to low sales. Despite the fact that Steifvater was able to prove that piracy had a direct impact on sales, the publisher stood by the cancellation. This is not a great outcome.
So, we’re all clear on what book piracy can do to a series, correct? Good. Let’s move on.
The book that sparked this essay — Middlegame, by Seanan McGuire
An author whose work that I love deeply took to Twitter a few months ago to vent her genuine frustration and anger that an eARC of one of her forthcoming novels has now been shared on dozens of torrent sites. This happened to her with a different novel last year. She and her team were able to ascertain that both of these books were originally uploaded by the same person, but they haven’t been able to figure out who it was. The new book was a hard one to acquire, too. I have reviewed no fewer than five ARCs of this author’s work before, and my request was declined. Meanwhile, somebody whose standing is high enough within the book reviewing community to receive a copy of this much-desired novel got one, and then decided to abuse that privilege. I’d be lying if I tried to pretend that I didn’t start writing this essay in a complete fit of rage that somebody is blatantly attempting to ruin the fun for the rest of us.
We’ve already discussed what could potentially happen to a book that loses sales due to piracy. What I want to discuss is the potential loss of eARCs. Here’s how things go for me when I receive a new ARC from NetGalley:
- I read the book.
- I digest it for a few days.
- I decide what kind of review that I want to write.
- If it’s something that I want to share with the world, because I think it’s brilliant and I want to shout about it from the rooftops, I review it right here on Speculative Chic, then I blast my social media with my love for the book.
- If it’s not something that I am passionate about, I write a fair review for NetGalley’s website, and if it’s something that was fine, I’ll share that review on Goodreads, too.
Let’s say that we’re talking about a book that falls under point four: I love the book and am shouting about all over the place. If even one reader is inspired to pick up this book because of my review, that’s a win. It’s a brand new sale for the author, and it might lead to more sales if the reader in question likes what this book has to offer. This entire process is designed to share the good news of the forthcoming book. If done correctly, eARCs have the potential to increase sales dramatically! That’s great!
If Stiefvater hadn’t pulled a clever scheme with with a fake pirated novel, would we be getting new books now?
However, some jackass is abusing this privilege. It hurts the writers; we’ve already discussed this above, with The Raven Cycle. It also hurts book reviewers, which in turn hurts the writers again. Call it a double-punch. Yes, I’m a small-time reviewer, but there are hundreds of reviewers on the same level as myself. If we’re suddenly silenced, the large number of people that we reach, together, will be diminished. This hurts the writers and might even mean that we never get more of the books that we love.
Perhaps you are thinking I already know this, it’s obvious, dummy. So why am I talking about it? Because this might not be my livelihood, but reviewing books is a hobby that I enjoy deeply. I can still do it if eARCs go away, but it’s going to take some of the magic away. I know myself; I’ll be less likely to review things outside of my usual wheelhouse, because I will be limited on what I actually purchase. I’m reading an ARC right now for a novel that I never would have picked up on my own, had it come down to whether I would purchase it or not. It’s not a bad book — quite the opposite! It’s simply something that likely never would have shown up on my personal radar. I can only assume that reviewers on my level are similar. Overall, it’s bad for the book business as a whole, and a shitty thing to do to any author.
I was just approved for a new ARC last week, the latest in an ongoing series that I adore. I desperately don’t want this author to push for her work to be removed from NetGalley and any of the other eARC distribution sites. I know, logically, that my one review isn’t going to make or break the success of this book or this series (which, as of this writing, has been nominated for two Hugos in the Best Series category). Nevertheless, it’s satisfying to think that I’m helping a writer who has done so much to enrich my own life. It gives more meaning and weight into this labor of love that is independent book reviewing.
So if you are one of those individuals who has stolen an electronic book (because that’s precisely what it is), let me remind of you of that annoying advertisement that used to run before movies: you wouldn’t steal a car. You wouldn’t steal a handbag. Why? Because theft is a crime. Stealing code that translates into a readable book is no less of a crime, and it hurts so many more people than you can even imagine. Like books? Want there to be more of them? Don’t steal them. There are other ways.
I bet that people who pirate books probably would never walk into a bookstore and stick a book down their pants. It’s weird to me that some forms of theft don’t seem to register as stealing to people. I genuinely can’t afford all of the books I want to read–so I get them from the library. Sure, sometimes I have to wait a while but it’s not that much of an inconvenience. If people can’t make a living as authors or if publishers can’t sell enough books, we’re all not going to get the stories we want.
I quit a book club because once the group decided on a book, discussion immediately turned to where the book could be acquired for free. It was always illegal sites rather than, say, a LIBRARY or (gasp!) buying the book from the author!
I say that I quit. They removed me from the group for complaining about these practices.
Wow. That’s just nuts…. I can’t believe they thought any of that was okay!