The Gatekeeper

by | March 21, 2014 | General | 14 comments

By Lisabet Sarai

I’m currently reading a book that should never have been published. Unfortunately, I’m committed to reviewing this three hundred fifty page novel, so I can’t just erase it from my e-reader and breathe a sigh of relief. I have to endure the run-on sentences, misspellings and incorrect vocabulary; the point of view that does a random walk from one character’s head to another’s; the verb tenses that shift from present to past and back again in the same paragraph.

I have to wonder about an author who sends a book in this sorry state out to the world. Did she really not know any better? Like many first erotica novels (including my own), the story (a moderately intense tale of extreme submission) feels like personal fantasy. I appreciate, from my own experience, the thrill that comes from baring your sexual soul, the rush one feels being brave enough to bring those filthy imagined scenarios into the light. It’s easy to get carried away. Still, even when writing for one’s own satisfaction, doesn’t an author have at least some responsibility to her readers? Shouldn’t there be some minimum criterion an author must satisfy, in terms of language skills, before he or she is entitled to ask other people to actually pay for privilege of reading?

Unfortunately, this book is far from unique. At least twenty percent of the ebooks I read appear to have never been examined by a (competent) editor. Some have dreadful formatting problems as well – text that switches from one font to another in the middle of sentences, negative leading between lines so that one overlaps another, and so on. Furthermore, these issues don’t appear just in self-published books.

Now, I’m a bit of a geek. You may or may not be aware of the fact that text processing software capabilities have become extremely sophisticated. Programs can analyze text in order to determine whether it was likely to have been written by a male or female; whether it was plagiarized; what emotions were experienced by the author; even whether it has linguistic characteristics shared by best-sellers. Software exists to grade essay questions in college entrance exams and make suggestions for how the author can get a better score. It recently occurred to me that someone (not me – text processing isn’t my specialty) could write a program to screen out books with egregious grammatical and lexical problems.

I have no doubt that Amazon has the resources to commission this sort of computerized gatekeeper. Think about it. Before an individual, or a publisher, could finalize submission of a book for sale, they would have to run it through the Automated Editor. The program would flag potential problems for attention. If the number of dangling participles or sentence fragments or run-on constructions exceeded a threshold, the book would be rejected. In other words, it would become impossible to publish a book like the one I’m wading through at the moment. The base level quality of available books would improve dramatically.

(Of course, Amazon would never do this voluntarily, only under pressure from readers. The company has zero incentive to reduce the number of books it offers for sale.)

But then, an artificially intelligent text analyst could do a great deal more than simply check for basic grammar. It could flag repeated words, phrases or figures of speech. (How many references to an “inner goddess” should be allowed before a book was rejected?) I believe that existing linguistic analysis software could also be trained to detect clichés, simply by providing an extensive database of example phrases. Purple prose would also be sufficiently distinctive, I think, to be identified with some level of accuracy.

I’m starting to imagine a multi-level application that could analyze a wide range of textual and stylistic characteristics in order to assign a “publishability” score to each manuscript. Why stop with the superficial problems, though? Automated language understanding systems have made great progress in the past decade, due to faster hardware and new algorithms. So why not look not just for clichéd language, but clichéd plot elements as well? That may be beyond the capabilities of today’s software, but not tomorrow’s. Using tired, overused story lines as models, the program could decide that the world did not in fact need yet another vampire-turning-his-lover-to-save-her-from-death or billionaire-seduces-virgin tale.

We could also use our gatekeeper software to determine how well a book purporting to belong to a certain genre in fact fit the conventions of that genre. If the program found evidence of lesbian interaction in a heterosexual erotic romance, for instance, it could reject the book as inappropriate for the targeted readers.

In the brave new world I am imagining, almost any aspect of a book’s content or presentation could be quantified and used to make publishing decisions. Sentences too short or too long. Overuse or underuse of adjectives. Too many characters of particular ethnicities. Focus on uncomfortable, politically incorrect or otherwise controversial topics. Mention of specific individuals, events, places, companies, products… the possibilities are limitless.

Think of how much more pleasant reading would become when you didn’t have to worry about ever encountering run-on sentences – or depictions of rape. You’d be shielded from both bad grammar and bad ideas.

Sure, this might homogenize the reading experience a bit, but that’s happening anyway, isn’t it? You’re right, Hemingway and Pynchon and Palahniuk and Joyce might not make the grade with our gatekeeper, unless they were grandfathered in as previously published. I’ll admit that some promising new authors would be prevented from making their work available to the world, but that happens with human editors too. At least our computerized literary gatekeepers would be objective and impartial.


Hmm… Maybe this needs some more thought

Meanwhile, I’ve got to go read a few more painful chapters and then figure out how to write this review without totally demoralizing this poor, benighted author.

Lisabet Sarai

Sex and writing. I think I've always been fascinated by both. Freud was right. I definitely remember feelings that I now recognize as sexual, long before I reached puberty. I was horny before I knew what that meant. My teens and twenties I spent in a hormone-induced haze, perpetually "in love" with someone (sometimes more than one someone). I still recall the moment of enlightenment, in high school, when I realized that I could say "yes" to sexual exploration, even though society told me to say no. Despite being a shy egghead with world-class myopia who thought she was fat, I had managed to accumulate a pretty wide range of sexual experience by the time I got married. And I'm happy to report that, thanks to my husband's open mind and naughty imagination, my sexual adventures didn't end at that point! Meanwhile, I was born writing. Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration, though according to family apocrypha, I was talking at six months. Certainly, I started writing as soon as I learned how to form the letters. I penned my first poem when I was seven. While I was in elementary school I wrote more poetry, stories, at least two plays (one about the Beatles and one about the Goldwater-Johnson presidential contest, believe it or not), and a survival manual for Martians (really). I continued to write my way through high school, college, and grad school, mostly angst-ridden poems about love and desire, although I also remember working on a ghost story/romance novel (wish I could find that now). I've written song lyrics, meeting minutes, marketing copy, software manuals, research reports, a cookbook, a self-help book, and a five hundred page dissertation. For years, I wrote erotic stories and kinky fantasies for myself and for lovers' entertainment. I never considered trying to publish my work until I picked up a copy of Portia da Costa's Black Lace classic Gemini Heat while sojourning in Istanbul. My first reaction was "Wow!". It was possibly the most arousing thing I'd ever read, intelligent, articulate, diverse and wonderfully transgressive. My second reaction was, "I'll bet I could write a book like that." I wrote the first three chapters of Raw Silk and submitted a proposal to Black Lace, almost on a lark. I was astonished when they accepted it. The book was published in April 1999, and all at once, I was an official erotic author. A lot has changed since my Black Lace days. But I still get a thrill from writing erotica. It's a never-ending challenge, trying to capture the emotional complexities of a sexual encounter. I'm far less interested in what happens to my characters' bodies than in what goes on in their heads.


  1. Victoria Chatham

    I hear you Lisabet! It goes along with the saying that because you could write a book it doesn't mean you should – unless you are prepared for the hard graft that goes into producing a well-rounded product.

    • Lisabet Sarai

      The question is, does anyone care, Victoria? Except you as an author?

  2. Roger

    "I'm committed to reviewing this…" that's a shame, and I've gotten to the point where I have an agreement for such writers who insist on me reading/reviewing "honestly" their unfinished work. If I find it too hard to read/get through/isn't my cup of tea, I'll talk to you again at the half-way point and ask – "do you really want me to continue? My review may not be what you want (negative, snarky, etc.) or even reveal that I couldn't get through the thing."

    I've only invoked the "Are you sure you want me to go through with this?" once and it got their attention. The supposed positive review was forgotten and a more appropriate discussion of how to present yourself as a professional followed instead. 🙂

    Good luck!


    • Lisabet Sarai

      Hello, Roger,

      This review is for the Erotica Revealed website, run by D.L.King. We warn authors that we will be brutally honest if they request reviews from us. Some of the reviews we have posted would definitely make you wince.

  3. Remittance Girl

    "Think of how much more pleasant reading would become when you didn't have to worry about ever encountering run-on sentences – or depictions of rape. You'd be shielded from both bad grammar and bad ideas. "

    Gee, Bad ideas. Got to avoid those.

    Honestly, Lisabet, this is where, ideologically, we really part ways. Who every said that reading was meant to be 'comfortable'? And as far as offensive topics are concerned, since I write most of them, I really can't agree with you on that, either.

    You know… if reading this bad book is making you consider the positive aspects of machine-driven censorship, then it's time for you to put the book down, and write a short note to the author saying: sorry, I just couldn't get through it.

    Because that's the thing about reading. If you come across something bad, or something that offends you, you are an adult with judgement. You can just PUT IT DOWN.

    • Lisabet Sarai

      Oh, dear. I guess I'm not very good at irony.

      You've articulated exactly the point I was trying, subtly – obviously too subtly! – to make. One could start with a reasonable notion, like computer-based filtering of grammar, and end up with censorship.

      In fact even rejecting a book based on run-on sentences could, as Mesmer says below, penalize an author who deliberately twists grammar rules for purposes of effect.

      I am NOT actually advocating this. The post is a thought experiment carried to its absurd conclusion!

    • Remittance Girl

      I'm deeply glad it was ironic.

      This all makes me think of Jonathan Swift's 'Modest Proposal'. The reason that worked is because the idea of eating Irish babies to lower the population had not been proposed, even by the most heartless Brits.

      It gets a little harder to pull this off convincingly when the number of readers who believe buying a book should work pretty much like a transaction at McDonald's has grown astronomically.

      My suspicion is that there are a great number of readers out there today who would embrace your proposal wholeheartedly. Certainly, there are online book stores who, if they could scan books for their capacity to cause them any legal issue, would.

    • oliviasummersweet

      Lisabet, You are fine at irony. Better known, in this case, as reductio ad absurdum. Nice job.;)

  4. Mesmer7

    My run-on sentences are deliberate because my character is a marathon runner with a run-away imagination modeled after Walter Mitty who was played by Danny Kay who had a run-away tongue and was the greatest aficionado of tongue twisters in history.

    Now do you really think a computer editor could understand the humor in that sentence?

    • Richard Pieters

      possibly, but it isn't a run-on sentence. 🙂

    • Lisabet Sarai

      Mesmer, while this isn't a run-on sentence (which is, according to my definition, several independent clauses joined just by commas, with no conjunctions), it might be rejected by my hypothetical gatekeeper as "too long" or "too complicated". That's exactly my point. Analyzing text structure is not too difficult, but distinguishing deliberate stylistic choices from ignorant errors is anything but.

  5. Kai Wilson-Viola

    I threatened to write something like this to track hacking, actually, but it'd work for this too. We were talking about it's plagiarism tracking potential too…hmmm.

    • Lisabet Sarai

      Hello, Kai,

      My final conclusion from this thought experiment is that it would be a mistake. Even detecting plagiarism can be subject to errors. Would you destroy someone's reputation and possible livelihood on the basis of a computer program?

  6. oliviasummersweet

    Well, this blasted blog keeps telling me comment was published, but I don't see it. I'm trying again. Lisabet, you are just fine at irony. Reductio ad absurdum, in this case.;)

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