Thick Skin is an interview series featuring authors talking about negative reviews, from critics and (anonymous) readers alike

See all of the Thick Skin installments.

Episode XXX: “Goodreads: Where Homophobes Teach You How to Dog Whistle”

Published 9/26/23
In this installment, I speak with Kyle Dillon Hertz about blocking Goodreads, his Kirkus review, homophobia in criticism, rating systems & more.

In this installment I have the pleasure of talking with Kyle Dillon Hertz. His debut The Lookback Window (Simon & Schuster) was called "a story of queer healing with all the narrative force of a thriller and the searing fury of an indictment" by the New York Times Book Review and "the arrival of a vital new talent" by Publishers Weekly. But today we'll be diving into less favorable reviews of the book, both by professional critics and everyday readers on sites like Amazon and Goodreads. Before we begin, I'd like to know if you read all of your reviews—including those by readers.

I have read most of them. At this point, I have Goodreads and Amazon blocked, so newer reviews I don't see. But all the trades and professional ones I read. I'm lucky in that I only received one negative trade review and everything else has been positive, if not a rave. The reader sites ... I cannot say the same. They make me sick to my stomach.

What do you mean re: you have Goodreads and Amazon blocked? I assume this was for your own sanity?

Yes—I was asked before the book came out to create a Goodreads author profile, same with Amazon. Part of the plan was to raise awareness there, send the book out, whatever, but as I started getting reviews that range from being disgusted with gay sex to that it was degrading to do gay things, etc. ... I realized I never should have been there in the first place. Of course, people tell you it's a cesspool, but I didn't start being told that until it was too late. Not every review is bad, many are not, and sometimes a friend will report the really shocking ones, but these people try to find you elsewhere.

Authors should not be involved with Goodreads at all. And again I wish my team would have warned me about the homophobic vitriol that I was about to receive before it happened. It was shocking, and depressing, and it's been a difficult couple of months realizing what I had accidentally allowed access to my peace.

Do you feel that your publisher didn't properly prepare you?

I think that it's easy to place all bad reviews into a single lot: a negative critical review. I am not really bothered by the plain "I didn't like this one" and I think I had mentioned as much to them, eventually. I wondered if I would be the type of person to feel bad because of them, but I didn't. What did hurt me was when the reviews started to become personal. Homophobic. I was not warned that these would probably be coming my way. I wish I had been warned because I would have been able to unplug earlier, when I could have avoided some misery, but even then people still found ways to me outside the normal sites.

I had just gotten married this year, and I was in a great state. My husband and I have had such a great year together. He's on the cover of The Lookback Window, pulling me in for a kiss. The description of the book and the cover seem like a pretty good statement of what you will find inside, and yet people picked it out anyway. It made me feel targeted. This lurked behind me for the past few months and has begun to stalk my sense of safety, and this has manifested in ways I haven't expected.

So outside of maybe a joke goodreads sucks I didn't get a warning at what would be coming my way. It wasn't until speaking with other queer authors after posting that they said they had similar experiences with homophobia, misogyny, racism etc. ...

I want to turn to reader reviews in one moment, and I expect the bulk of this conversation will center on them, but first I'd like to discuss professional reviews.

I only found one mixed or negative review (correct me if I'm wrong), from Kirkus, which said: “within this unique milieu are some common first-novel issues: Dylan’s narration strives for a kind of hard-won stoicism but often reads as flat; the characterizations of Moans and other secondary characters (including another potential love interest) are relatively thin; and plotwise the novel cycles from a memory of abuse to self-sabotage to desperate gestures of love and affection. Hertz’s talent for evoking the horrors and consequences of abuse runs deep, but the effect is of a short story stretched past its limits.”

What did you feel when you first read this? What do you feel now?

There was an earlier version of this review that referred to my main character, Dylan, who was trafficked as a teenager, as being "prostituted," and it made my stomach turn. I thought we had moved beyond the realm of thinking that kids could be prostitutes, but apparently not. I felt as though whoever wrote this hadn't read my novel because if they had they would have encountered a section that literally talks about how when you are trafficked as a kid you grow up feeling like (and I'm using both the literal and pejorative here) a whore. They also used the phrase "tart" to describe the narration. The prostitute line made me so shocked. I felt like, why write this novel if the people who are going to review are going to use the language of Epstein and abusers to describe a trafficked kid, and then the tart line felt so strangely gendered, which to me also comes down to homophobia. My sense of what is right and wrong has been so whacked by this process that I had to literally ask some people if I were being insane, and they all said, no, it was a strange review because it seemed both like they didn't read the novel and also like they kind of wanted to call me something that shouldn't be in a review.

We asked them to change the language, and they did, but what that means is you are left with a review that is negative without the couple words that clue a reader in to how they felt about me and my novel. A tasteless, chatty slut talking about being a prostitute as a child. Which, as I'm sure you can tell, is fucking insane. 

Wow, I don't know if I've ever heard of a publication changing a review in this way. Did they apologize in their response to you when you (was it you or your publisher?) asked them to change it?

My team reached out to them, and they did make some changes. I want to give them the benefit of the doubt. They're underpaid, probably did not really read, or maybe just ... I'll leave that sentence unfinished. No apology, of course, because what would that say? They have already been accused of mishandling work. It's not even an apology I would want from them, but a brand new review, by a different person. And the time for that has already passed. Even that I'm nervous to say because people in this industry can be vindictive.

I've struggled with this, too. I ended up in a bad state for a while because one of the ways I learned how to survive and not let the world swallow me was by speaking up and out against situations that bothered me. That changed my life. It mostly cured me of the dissociations that come from c-PTSD, but now I am in a place where I can't really speak out against certain situations. That's where some of the review blues, or really the publishing blues, have negatively impacted me most. For a majority of my life, I ate shit from the people who harmed me, and I was only able to turn my life around when I started fighting back. The harm of a negative review is minimal, and it is incomparable to what has actually harmed me. However, the suggested silence, AKA the price of publishing, hurt me. I've stopped being as quiet, but it's still a balance between learning how much shit I can eat and how much I need to push back against for my own mental health.

And I really do admire you for doing this interview. If you don't mind, should we now jump into Goodreads and Amazon reviews? 

Goodreads: Where Homophobes Teach You How to Dog Whistle.

I think if you made a word cloud from the reviews, the first five words would be vulgar, gay, sex, explicit, and disgusting. You would think it was right-wing readers reviewing gay porn. 

Let's start with this one, which seems more concerned with the writing than the content. Have you read this? What do you feel reading it now?

I could not get into this book. It is a story of homosexuality, sex trafficking…and little else as far as I read. But it wasn't the subject matter that put me off; it was the quality of the writing. I would not have been surprised if it was written by a hormone driven teenager. 

Since I only read a short portion of the book before losing interest, I have no other comments to make.

This reads just plainly homophobic to me. The use of "It is a story of homosexuality..." is just wild. It's disgusting. I don't think this person read the book. This seems like someone who read a description of the book, or another negative review, and decided to post. This is also one of the reviews that was copy and pasted to other sites. People like this try to get around the homophobia label by saying it's about the "writing" but there is no critique of the writing here—only a critique of the subject. It seems extra clear this person didn't read the novel because the focus of the first portion of the novel is on marriage and divorce. You don't get to the trafficking until much later in the novel. So, if you only read a short portion of the book before losing interest, there's no way you actually read this book. A few friends reported similar reviews to this one, that basically say they don't like that the book has gay sex, and they get taken down. Usually not on Goodreads, but other sites.

Plus, The Lookback Window starts at a gay nude resort in Florida. Dylan, the main character, gets naked on page 3. There is nothing sneaky about the novel's interest in sex. There's no way to be shocked by it. It starts on page 1. But I genuinely believe—not believe, I know—that we live in a time where queer rights are being demolished, and what comes with that is an acceptance of anti-gay rhetoric. Some just attack me and my novel because it's about gay life, like this review; the more insidious reviews are the people who read more, despite knowing the parameters from page 1, and try to couch their homophobic critique in real critical language.

How does it make me feel? Angry, disgusted, and shocked. The fact that this review is allowed to stay up is wrong. The fact that some of the other reviews are from people who requested the novel from my publisher, which came with a description of what the book is about, and then write these veiled homophobic critiques borders on evil to me. It feels targeted. They wanted to drum up a little blood in the water for their followers. 

Also, in general, I'm pretty immune to the opinions of others. To reiterate, what has made some of these words linger is that these people knew what was in my book, picked it out to review online, thanked me and my publisher, and then went hard to say how disgusting they found it. Like I said: I feel targeted.

I wonder if you feel that this review took the book with more good faith.

After stumbling upon this as a recommendation, I was intrigued by the synopsis enough to read it immediately. Unfortunately, some of the book just fell flat for me.

The book got a lot correct -- the lasting, enduring, and brutal effects that trauma have upon a victim's life. Human trafficking is a unique form of trauma that, in turn, has unique manifestations. Hertz did a great job highlighting the way in which Dylan's C-PTSD worked its way into all facets of his life -- his relationships, his attitudes towards sex and intimacy, his self-worth, and sense of purpose. The relationship that substance use has with trauma was portrayed honestly and accurately -- the two almost always overlap with one another.

There was some great skill in the writing, and I have to commend Hertz for his prose style.

Regarding the actual "lookback window" itself -- it felt that it, as a plot device, was actually not focused on as much as it could've been. It was mentioned here and there, mainly that the window was closing, and then ultimately we got to the point where the window had closed -- but we received this news without much fanfare.

Overall, Dylan was an intriguing character, and my soul ached for him -- and for all the victims who have been forced to live a life like his.

The subject matter approached in this book is so important -- and some of it was handled very well. It was not the most profound book on the topic I've ever come across, but it was enjoyable. I did find myself reading smaller portions at a time rather than sitting down and reading the book all the way through -- it was by no means a page turner.

I would encourage readers to approach this book with caution, as there are a great deal of trigger warnings that come along with it -- many dealing with sexual victimization.

Absolutely. These are the reviews that you never remember. By that I mean: they are not directed toward me. They feel more like regular thoughts on a work. I do wonder, in general, why people post book reviews. This isn’t a comment on this review, exactly, although reading it does make me wonder: why do people actually engage online in this way? Is it because they love literature and don’t have the community around them to discuss with people they know? This review feels like it is from someone who loves books and reads criticism. The review has the feeling of national book coverage. The style and format, except for the trigger warning at the end, which has the distinct feeling of the internet. Part of that means reading, on some level, to influence others, which I’m not sure has ever been part of my relationship with books. Of course, if I love a novel, I will tell people—but that’s a bonus to my own private relationship with the book. I guess I find the whole internet review culture suspect. I’m happy this reviewer read the book and engaged. I’m grateful. Still, part of me would like to ask internet reviewers more about the impulse.

I think for many readers Goodreads is a community, no? It's a place to air your thoughts, and hopefully reach others. Of course, not everyone approaches this authentically.

I see what you mean about that review feeling professional; its style and intelligence lends it pathos. I want to turn now to a review that comes off as readerly (as opposed to a professional critique). It seems this person was not the best reader for your book, but comes to it more honestly than others. Do you agree?

1.5 rounded up. This book has child trafficking, rape and flagrant drug abuse. Given such dark topics, it is a very tough read. Dylan was trafficked as a kid by a man who promised to marry Dylan when he turned 18. Needless to say, marriage did not happen. Dylan winds up getting married, but not telling his husband about his past. When the SOL is extended in NY for one year, Dylan decides to pursue his case. Everything including the sex (and there’s A LOT of it) was very graphic. 

Goodreads is a community. I think I'm wary of any time a metric is involved. Like in this review, where the person decides to give a rating that doesn't exist. No half stars on that site. I wish people didn't think of art in this way. Have you ever read a book and thought to yourself: that was a three-and-a-half star novel? This kind of thinking feels gamified, or a type of thinking that originates from punishment.

This person didn't read my book because that's not what happens in it. Literally the opposite happens. So why write this review? This review reads like a copy of the other bad reviews mixed with the PR language that was on the galley letter. I don't even mean this rhetorically: Why is it that people are reviewing this novel when they haven't read it? It's not like a class where you will be graded. It isn't a conversation with a date where you want to impress someone who is talking to you about some classic you pretend to have read. 

And beyond that: rating a book badly because you didn't like that there is graphic sex in it? Like, what? Is that how people are seriously reading? I understand not liking a book. There are many I don't like. But I rarely come away from a work that I judge on the subject matter. This is such a self-limiting view, and I think it can become contagious on places like Goodreads, almost like a doctrine, a strange evangelism. It's sad. I wish people didn't read like this. Because when they do and they post reviews like that, people who haven't read the novel, like this specific review we are talking about, feel free to post their own fake reviews because it isn't about critical reviewing—it's about a kind of community/religious/dogmatic preaching. It's a negative binder.

Do you pay any heed to these ratings? Over time I've found a negative correlation between how much I'll like a book and its rating on Goodreads.

Yeah, I fully agree. I did not really look at Goodreads before my book came out. Occasionally, I would check the ratings of a novel I liked, just to see what other people thought, but it never matched up. I'm not too big on internet communities and social media. I think part of my shock came from how estranged I am from a lot of that world, and then realizing what it was really like. I love book criticism, and I'm happy that places with dedicated critics like Bookforum are returning. We need more of that and less of star-rating systems.

I would normally feed you more Goodreads reviews to react to, but to be honest, they really are just versions of each other. I first got in touch with you because of an Instagram post of yours regarding homophobic reactions to the book. It repulsed me to find that that was how readers respond to a book like The Lookback Window in 2023; it was also deeply surprising. I think we like to think of books as having a higher barrier to entry than other narrative arts, and that readers will be—what? More enlightened? I wonder if the publishing process has changed your own views of how you see the reading public and, more particularly, who your readership might be.

I don't think my opinion of the reading public has changed. Readers are reflective of the population as a whole, and there are many people in this country whom I hope to never meet. What surprised me was the willingness of those people to interact with my book. On some level, I hoped that maybe my novel would stretch the boundaries of what they think. Maybe for some people it does, but they need to be open to having their mind changed.

I have many great readers, and I have talked with strangers who identify with my book, were moved by the prose, and experienced an expansion of thought. I'm grateful for them. I am most grateful to queer readers, who are the people I write for. This novel aims at more than just queer readers, too; but my overall writing project is to add to queer history. My next novel is a queer Holocaust novel, and I've got another project lined up after that. I'm interested in filling the blanks of history, whether it's The Lookback Window and male sexual assault victims or the queer men of the Holocaust. I'm not saying this to use jargon that I kind of roll my eyes at online. I am simply interested in the idea of what's missing and overlooked and forgotten and finding the language for it.

I've really appreciated your insight, Kyle. And I'll let you off here. But before you go, I am wondering if you think about what feedback you might anticipate with your second, given its subject—or if you try to ignore such thoughts entirely.

The subject of The Lookback Window is so personal. I'm praying that there is nothing that could hurt my feelings worse than this. Maybe that's a bit of a delusion at work. But writing and steeling yourself against idiotic opinions is never good. We can do take two in a couple years after we see what happens. Thank you for talking to me, Andrew. I had to really think about these questions. It was a pleasure to talk with you.