A Ranking That Really Rankles

OK, I admit I was excited upon hearing that Amazon.com had begun posting the numerical rankings of all of its books according to their sales positions. After all, my first (and only) tome is currently available through the online seller at popular prices. And I’ve never been ranked in anything, unless you count the time a teacher in junior high said the chisel I made in metal shop ranked as the worst he had seen in 20 years.

So I delightedly clicked on to Amazon and located my book. Sure enough, it carried a designation:

No. 61,918.

I shut down the computer--it’s prone to glitches--and restarted it. But the same five-digit insult appeared. Somehow I couldn’t see myself printing up a T-shirt that said, “We’re No. 61,918!”

The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that Amazon’s ranking process is flawed. Oh, I wasn’t angry at the book chain. Amazon is just new at this sort of thing. I, on the other hand, am much more familiar with the science of ratings, having started out life as a sportswriter.

One obvious flaw is that Amazon has not emulated such sports as tennis and golf, in which male and female athletes are ranked separately. How could the Bronte sisters compete against me? Right off, I figured, I moved up from No. 61,918 to 30,959, or so, in the all-male ratings. I felt a lot better.

But that wasn’t all. Amazon has also ignored the manner in which professional boxers are ranked--by divisions. My book, “The Best of Only in L.A.,” a collection of my writings as a humor columnist for The Times, has sold several thousand copies in two years, most before it was listed by Amazon. But that has hardly stamped me as a marketing heavyweight in the class of, say, Danielle Steel (apart from the fact that Steel also belongs in the female rankings).

No, I am admittedly a lightweight. Thus, assuming that (male) writers should be split into maybe 10 fighting divisions, I improved from No. 30,959 to 3,095 or so. This writing game isn’t so tough, after all.

Come to think of it, Amazon has also failed to learn from the Associated Press’ college football rankings, which confine themselves to the Top 25. Why clutter up the minds of fans with a bunch of numbers anyway? Teams ranked below No. 25 are usually grouped under the heading “Others Receiving Votes.”

I moved myself from No. 3,095 to “Others Receiving Votes.” I could see myself in a T-shirt that said, “We’re Others Receiving Votes!”

Still, there was a problem. As powerful as my arguments for reforming Amazon’s rankings of its million or so selections were, I doubted that anyone would listen to me. (I’m a lightweight, remember.)

No, I would have to take subversive action. I would rig the system. I would buy a copy of my own book.

Please do not condemn me, unless you’ve been ranked No. 61,918 or lower. And, please, no jokes about me signing the book for myself.

Nervously, I dialed up Amazon.com, afraid that at some point I would receive a message that said, “We know what you’re up to, Steve Harvey.” Oddly enough, the site, far from sounding suspicious, asked me how many copies Steve Harvey would like to buy of “The Best of Only in L.A.” by Steve Harvey. Or was this a setup? I said one copy, thanks.

It arrived a couple of days later. Luckily, my wife and children were out of the house. I quickly removed it from the package, destroying the latter. Sure, I wanted to dial up Amazon.com right away, but I waited until the next morning just in case the book chain was monitoring me.

Heart pounding, I dialed up my book and saw the ranking:

68,452.

My position had worsened by more than 6,000 places! Oh, cruel joke! Now bereft of my senses, I poured out my story to my wife, who only laughed. She said, “Don’t you see? Writers all over the country are probably buying their own books to boost their rankings. You didn’t buy enough.”

Of course. Amazon plays on the vanity of not-so-hot writers.

Here my story ends. As of several days ago, I had descended further, somewhere into the 87,000s--I’ve stopped checking.

All I know is I’m not purchasing any more copies of my book. At least, not until I finish reading the copy I bought.

*

Steve Harvey writes the Only in L.A. column for The Times. It appears Tuesday through Saturday in Metro.