I was scrolling through social media while sipping my coffee, and I came across an endorsement for a book. Now, this book may indeed be fantastic. It might be the very best example of its genre to come out in the last year, and I should be reading it and telling all my friends and family about it. The problem is, I can’t really tell. I have no idea what the book is about or even what genre it’s in.
The only endorsement it got was a very long list of marginalized identities (sexuality, gender, race, even religion) represented in the pages. And…that was it. No mini blurb or tags to tell me whether this was a romance or science fiction or gothic mystery. I don’t even know what age range it’s for.
Bemused, I mentioned it in a private Facebook group. I think my favorite comment was that we’re not “GLBTQ Pokemon hunters.”
Don’t get me wrong—it’s wonderful that this book has such a diverse cast. It would be great if more books had that so this one doesn’t look like some kind of anomaly. But if a book’s only selling point is the identity markers of the characters, that doesn’t pique my interest.
The other problem I had was that this book was also tagged as #OwnVoices. Now, anyone who’s been around for a little bit knows I’m a big fan of #OwnVoices books. I will yell about that until I die, probably. That’s not to say a person shouldn’t write a thing just because it’s outside that realm. But come on, you all know I champion the idea of asking ourselves why we are compelled to write outside our lane, whether we’re the best person to tell that particular story, and if similar books are being written by authors with lived experience that we might read/promote.
That said, I also don’t think #OwnVoices should be a primary selling point either. There is a big difference between wanting to be sure that marginalized voices are heard and using #OwnVoices as a marketing tool or a way to silence everyone else.
Look, I get it. For some of us, finding books where we see ourselves represented, especially as main characters, is an exercise in futility. Some of us give up in frustration. Others give in and write what’s popular. And some of us do our best to put our whole selves on the page, only to be told “no one” wants to read it. So yes, it’s vital that we know about books where people like us are the stars.
However, we really aren’t Marginalized Identity Pokemon hunters, and no one gets a bonus for how many they can cram into one story. There isn’t a score card for these things.
I sincerely doubt the author of the book had in mind to do anything of the sort, especially if the book is an #OwnVoices story on any of those points. Usually, “identity stuffing” is the sort of thing I see people with privilege doing, often justified with some kind of condescending savior complex (“I’m writing you a story! Be grateful!”) to accompany it. The fault for this one lies entirely with whatever marketing team thought it would be brilliant to tell us just how much representation it contains.
Moral of the story: Representation is good. #OwnVoices is good. Selling a book based on either of those, with no other information, is not.
Side note: I’m considering a career change to creating more Torso Art.