It's a Dealbreaker!

Back in June (oh, those days of sunshine and roses seem so far away…), the lovely Carmen wrote an interesting post about how people’s reading choices influence their potential as romantic prospects. It is a debate that’s been ongoing for a while now, a literary riff on Liz Lemon’s catchphrase: “It’s a Dealbreaker, ladies!” His favorite book is The Shack? Dealbreaker. Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn are the only novels she’s read this year? Hella dealbreaker.

There’s something so fascinating about going to people’s apartments and having a good root through their bookshelves. It’s more socially acceptable than rummaging around in the medicine cabinet, but just as revealing: you can see which titles are well-thumbed and which are pristine, covered in a thin layer of dust. Books give away interests and passions, college courses taken and itineraries of travels past. As I wrote before in my post on book collecting, the volumes on the shelves tell the story of a life.

A couple of years ago, some enterprising folks launched a website called Goodreads, where people can assemble virtual bookshelves and talk about what they’re currently reading. The idea is that you can noodle around and learn more about people by what they post, but the actual point of it is, at least to me, unclear.

Goodreads is primarily a social networking site: although you can see some content by just browsing, you actually have to be “friends” with people to see everything they have to say. This is a fairly intimate platform, without any of the superficial agenda of LinkedIn or even Facebook, so if you’re “friends” with someone on Goodreads, isn’t there a good chance you know them in real life? Why do you need a special forum to talk about books with your friends?

However, someone recently introduced me to an incarnation of this “public bookshelf” concept that makes total sense. It’s an internet dating website called Alikewise, which allows users to build profiles based on what they’ve read and are currently reading. It speaks to Carmen’s observations, and more broadly to the general consensus that if two people’s bookshelves aren’t compatible, they probably aren’t either. In some ways it’s like a traditional dating website, in that you post a photograph and a short description of yourself. But its format is refreshingly quirky—a clear example of how structure can foster, rather than stifle, personality and creativity.

Every profile has two tabs. The first is a bookshelf on which you can display titles and a short explanation to go with them. People interpret this feature quite freely: some people write about what they’re reading now, whereas others choose to focus on their favorite books. I don’t want to quote from anybody’s profile without their permission, so I’ll let you browse through at your leisure. The other tab is labeled “His/Her Story,” and serves as the “personal statement”—except that statement has to take the form of answers to six specific questions:

I would describe myself as...
When people meet me, they notice...
You'll often find me...
Two things I can't live without...
The bravest thing I've done recently...
I am particularly good at...

At first glance these questions might seem asinine, but seeing how people choose to respond—whether seriously or flippantly, in depth or with brevity—is not only interesting, but also very revealing. It beats eHarmony’s crapulous Personality Profile any day in terms of depth and insight.

Browsing Alikewise is endlessly fascinating, a perfect occupation for a rainy Friday. You can search by demographic (a/s/l, as internet chatroom loiterers call it); by author; or by book title. Even if you’re not trolling for a date, it’s refreshing to see so many readers within a culture that is supposedly mourning the demise of books. There are the expected quantities of people reading Eat, Pray, Love and Freedom, but I was surprised by the breadth of taste and affinity. Some people do conform gloriously to the stereotypes (which is why we have them, right?), but the website does debunk a lot of the assumptions we can be tempted to make about the audience of a particular book. And, for the most part, people's comments were insightful, eloquent explanations of their choices that I respect, even if those choices would not be my own.

I can't really enjoy the full Alikewise "experience" because I'm currently not in the market for a new love object. If I were an intrepid New York Times journalist, I'd probably make a fake profile and see what happened, but honestly I can find neither the energy nor the heart: it feels wrong, somehow, to undertake such a personal and emotionally-charged endeavor under false pretences. I'll be interested, though, to see if the idea really takes off: I know that my existing love object and I first bonded over similar (though not identical) tastes in books, and this has proved a good indicator of complementary personalities, mutual intellectual inclinations, and compatible visions of life in the long term. If anyone tries this out for realsies, however, please keep me posted about how it goes and if you ever need a second opinion. As you already know, there's nothing I like more than an exhaustive analysis of people's bookshelves, even if they only exist in cyberspace.

Book Rules

I was sitting at home on Saturday writing my friend’s online dating profile.

I’d say a successful profile is 60 percent: good profile picture (cute, flattering, not overly trying) and 40 percent: self-description and responses to questions (smart, sensitive, try to be witty).

I was going through the questions quickly. Describe yourself (my friend): People person. Compassionate. Down to earth.

It was easy to describe my friend. I’d rather describe her than myself.

What do you want to do with your life? Easy! I want to make a positive impact in the world.

What would you be doing on a typical Friday night? Dinner with friends. Plenty of good food and wine.

Then I got to a stumper. What are your favorite movies, songs, and books?

My hands came to a screeching halt.

What were my friend’s favorite books? I had lost touch with what she was reading lately. She used to read Barbara Kingsolver and she’s read most of Michael Pollan’s books, but was, probably, mostly reading The Wall Street Journal now.

I could go into the other room and ask her (she had no idea I was beefing up her profile)
but the question reminded me of the many conversations I’ve had about how our favorite books reflect who we are.

My colleagues talk about books being a factor in the men they choose to date. If he doesn’t read—that’s a deal-breaker for most women in this building. I get why it matters. If your relationship works out, you’re going to hear a whole lot about what they’re reading. Do you really want to know what happens in the last chapter of every Clive Cussler book? And I understand that men are increasingly turned off by women who read Elizabeth Gilbert and Julie Powell.

In fact, a couple of years ago The New York Book Times Review ran an essay about a woman breaking up with man over his failure to get a Pushkin reference. But this book-branding concern had never jumped out at me until now.

I wondered—of all the many books my friend has read and liked, what books would portray her in the best way? How will her favorite books brand her to the online community of date seekers?

In real life, if you don’t like a guy because he doesn’t pick up on a nineteenth century Russian literature reference, it’s because you simply don’t like the guy. And what woman wants a man who can’t handle a memoir about a female’s journey in life? In the end, putting a lot of weight on what your partner reads is taking yourself a tad too seriously. On the other hand, in the online world of dating, first impressions matter, a lot.

So, in good fun, I’d like to suggest some titles to keep off your list—even if they are your faves—to avoid having potential soul mates cringe at the sight of your profile:

Are You There Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea by Chelsea Handler (poor title, even if the book isn’t half-bad)

The Invaders Plan by L. Ron Hubbard (too frightening)

The Anarchist’s Cookbook by William Powell (we don’t want him think you’re cooking up firebombs)

The Rules: Time Tested Secrets for Capturing the Heart of Mr. Right by Ellen Fein, Sherrie Schneider (these are secrets for a reason!)

Overcoming Compulsive Hoarding: Why You Save & How You Can Stop by Fugen Neziroglu, Jerome, Ph.D. Bubrick, Jose A. Yaryura-Tobias, and Patricia Perkins (no need to mention this on your first date)

Naturally Thin: Unleash Your SkinnyGirl and Free Yourself from a Lifetime of Dieting by Bethenny Frankel (there are other people who can tell you how to lose weight)

It’s Not That I’m Bitter . . .: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying About Visible Panty Lines and Conquered the World by Gina Barreca (although I’m usually keen on the term panty lines in book titles, this is a bit overwhelming)

How to Talk to a Liberal (If You Must): The World According to Ann Coulter by Ann Coulter (if you’re going to be conservative, you don’t need to be so mean about it)

LA Candy By Lauren Conrad (stick to clothes, Lauren!)

Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough by Lori Gottlieb (he’ll never get it, too complicated)

Oh, there are so many more. What am I missing, dear blog reader?