Why I quit Goodreads

And the NYT story that everyone is talking about.

Last week The New York Times released this piece on the negative impact that Goodreads, a review site, can have on books before they are even published. Ever since the story dropped, readers and authors have been buzzing about their experiences with Goodreads and some of the biggest takeaways from the piece. Perhaps most notably: Eat, Pray, Love author Elizabeth Gilbert went so far as to delay publication of her forthcoming novel after receiving a barrage of one-star reviews on Goodreads.

In an era where space for book coverage is tight and new books are released every single week, publicity — of any kind — is a good thing. As such, online sites like Goodreads and Amazon have become essential tools for book marketing. Publishers often send early copies of books to readers in the hopes that they will post online reviews and drum up excitement before a book’s release. Much like pre-order numbers, positive early reviews can signal to booksellers that a new novel is worth ordering for their shelves.

All of this is to say: I get the appeal of Goodreads. It can be a helpful tool for connecting readers, starting conversations, and promoting new books. And yet, like so many online spaces, it also gives anyone with an Internet connection a platform to voice their opinions — for better or worse.

I came crashing into Goodreads in late 2022, a few months before the release of my book, Drinking Games. Like many debut authors, I was excited, nervous, and largely clueless about the aftermath of birthing a book (which I am realizing now may mirror my upcoming experience birthing a human baby??). In the weeks after my publisher began mailing out advanced reader copies, I started Googling my book. I’m not sure what I was looking for, but I couldn’t stop.

Everyone tells you not to read reviews, but I really believe it’s one of those lessons you need to learn for yourself, like touching a hot stove. Initially, reading early reviews of my book was exhilarating. The life cycle of a book is long, and by the time early copies of Drinking Games began circulating I had been living alone with the manuscript for almost two years. Aside from my family, a few close friends, trusted editor, and wonderful agent, no one had read my memoir, and I was beginning to feel a little bit crazy. If you write a book but no one else has read it, did you even write it? (Yes. Yes you did.)

For me, reading reviews was kind of like snooping through a partner’s phone: best case scenario, you don’t find anything noteworthy. More often than not, you’re looking because you’re on the hunt for something incriminating that will ultimately leave you feeling awful. The whole thing feels vaguely voyeuristic to me, like eavesdropping on a conversation you’re not meant to hear. Goodreads was inherently designed to be a reading tool: it allows you to keep track of the books you want to read and discover new ones you might love. I’m not sure authors were ever intended to be a part of the dialogue.

As I continued reading early reviews of my book, a permanent pit formed in my stomach. I was obsessed, checking Goodreads daily for new ratings and basically on a quest to hurt my own feelings. Unlike the authors profiled in The New York Times piece, none of the reviews I received were cruel or bordered on hate speech, but the negative ones still stung. They began to live rent-free in my brain, feeding into existing fears and making it impossible to focus on writing my second book. I called an author friend to ask how she handled early reviews, and she strongly suggested I stop reading them altogether.

And so I made the decision to quit Goodreads. Once Drinking Games was released in January 2023, I began to receive incredibly kind messages from readers on social media and email. These conversations were perhaps what I was initially searching for online; a sign that people were connecting with the deeply personal work I was putting out into the world.

I do still get a glimpse of the anonymous reviews, though. My dad, in a true act of parental love, braves the waters of Goodreads and Amazon and occasionally sends me highlight reels of both the thoughtful reviews and funny ones from readers who think they are reading a memoir by Schitt’s Creek actress Sarah Levy (same name, no relation) and are wildly confused by the lack of Eugene Levy anecdotes. My favorite ones come from young adults who are struggling with alcohol and feel seen in the pages of my book. I wrote Drinking Games for them, and their responses outweigh even the harshest one-star reviews.

To be clear, there is a distinction between receiving a negative review and being on the receiving end of hate speech online. And in light of all the Goodreads chatter this week, I do wonder if the platform will implement any new measures to moderate reviews and protect authors moving forward.

Ultimately, I feel fortunate to be a published author and I understand that criticism is part of any creative pursuit. But aside from the people I trust, I try not to internalize or consume every piece of feedback that comes my way. I also know that when I have tried to write while people pleasing or worrying about hypothetical reviews, I have found myself completely paralyzed and creatively blocked. Not productive or helpful for anyone.

In the moments when fear of a bad review creeps in, I remind myself that I can’t think of many authors or artists who are universally beloved and have never been on the receiving end of judgment. Some of my favorite books have one-star reviews online! It comes with the territory. If I’m lucky enough to continue working as a writer, I will undoubtedly encounter my fair share of readers who don’t love everything I have to say. Not every book is for everyone, and that’s okay.

All of this being said: if you’ve read and loved Drinking Games (or have some notes), please rate and review on Goodreads or Amazon. Like it or not, reviews still go a long way when it comes to books, and I appreciate anyone who takes the time to leave one about mine. (Assuming, of course, you’re nice about it.)

Xx

Sarah