To Warn or not to Warn: The Controversy around Trigger Warnings in Literature
By Guest | January 24, 2023 |
Please welcome bestselling author Jamie Beck to Writer Unboxed today! Recently, Jamie asked the opinion of other writers over social media about trigger warnings on novels, and such a robust conversation evolved that it seemed obvious: This would make a great topic to explore on WU. Happily, Jamie agreed to write the piece. From her bio:
Jamie Beck is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of 18 novels, many of which have been translated into multiple languages and have collectively sold more than three million copies worldwide. Critics at Kirkus, Publishers Weekly, and Booklist have respectively called her work “smart,” “uplifting,” and “entertaining.” In addition to writing novels, she enjoys dancing around the kitchen while cooking, and hitting the slopes in Vermont and Utah. Above all, she is a grateful wife and mother to a very patient, supportive family.
Learn more about Jamie and the novel that sparked the conversation, The Beauty of Rain, on Jamie’s website: www.jamiebeck.com.
My publisher engaged a sensitivity reader to evaluate the portrayal of a neurodiverse character in my summer 2023 release (The Beauty of Rain). I eagerly anticipated the reader’s feedback, whose notes on that aspect of the manuscript were ultimately helpful and unsurprising. Conversely, her recommendation that I add trigger warnings about suicidal ideation and prescription drug abuse did momentarily throw me.
Most everyone knows that a trigger warning is essentially a statement cautioning a consumer/reader that the content may be disturbing or induce a traumatic response. Although these labels are not as commonplace in publishing as they are in film, television, and music, in recent years they’ve begun to appear on a book’s digital detail page, its back jacket, or in an author’s note. The big argument in favor of such labels is that they give a reader the choice to avoid a book that contains material said reader might find harmful or that could unwittingly force them to revisit past trauma.
While I consider myself to be a compassionate person who would never purposely cause someone harm, my initial reaction was to reject the suggestion. Trust me, I know that sounds awful, but I worried that the warnings somewhat mischaracterized the tone and themes in my work. After all, if A Man Called Ove had included a suicidal ideation warning, many people might have missed out on an extremely life-affirming story. I discussed my concern with my agent and editor, both of whom also expressed doubts about the necessity of the warnings.
Coincidentally, around that same time I was doom-scrolling on Twitter and came across a New Yorker article from 2021 entitled “What if trigger warnings don’t work?” That piece discusses studies conducted with respect to the effectiveness of content warnings in academia (which are on the rise). The data suggests that such warnings not only don’t work, but they may inflict more harm by causing additional stress and reinforcing the idea that a trauma is central to a survivor’s identity (which is the opposite of PTSD therapy goals). On Twitter and in an Authors Guild discussion thread on this topic, more than one licensed therapist concurred with the article’s conclusions and believed trigger warnings had no meaningful effect.
You might think this data cemented my decision, but it merely piqued my interest in the topic. What better excuse to procrastinate writing my next book than to dive down the rabbit hole of articles and blog posts about the pros and cons of trigger warnings in literature?
It did not take long to identify some other commonly debated pitfalls, which include:
- Spoilers: One simplistic and popular complaint is that a content warning may give away a plot twist and thus spoil the story for every reader, which is especially frustrating for those who didn’t want the warning. This camp argues that, prior to purchase, a sensitive reader can visit websites such as Book Trigger Warnings or Trigger Warning Database to verify whether a particular book contains personally troubling content without forcing the author to ruin the surprise or twist for every potential reader who picks up the book.
- Trigger Identification: There are as many different triggers as there are readers, making it a practical impossibility to adequately warn every potential reader about every potential trigger. Similarly, readers with comparable experiences might have different reactions and preferences (for example, I was raised in a violent home but did not want or need a warning before reading The Great Alone). We can certainly group some content into broad common categories like domestic abuse, addiction, rape, etc., but what about a reader who might be traumatized by something more obscure (like a color or a setting)? It seems ambitious if not impossible to imagine one could create a list of all possible triggers. If we can’t screen every scenario, is it fair to screen any?
- Genre expectations: In dark romance, for example, it is almost guaranteed that there will be some level of violence and crime (such as kidnapping the heroine or dubious consent). The same could be said of crime novels and thrillers (graphic violence, rape, murder, mental health matters). Should authors and publishers need to take additional steps to prepare a reader for something that is essentially foundational to that genre?
- Censorship: Some teachers, librarians, and publishing professionals argue that content labels are a form of censorship, and that the line between labels and trigger warnings is thin. They worry an overreach or abuse of these labels could result in many books being segregated onto separate shelves. For example, YA books often tackle an array of topics from fatphobia to date rape. If the use of multiple warnings persists and leads to segregated shelving, those books might become less visible and accessible to the general public who might otherwise benefit from exploring those topics. This slippery slope could also ultimately affect what stories publishers choose to invest in and distribute, which would be bad for both authors and readers.
In my opinion, some of these arguments hold more weight than others. I haven’t had an epiphany when it comes to their efficacy, nor am I convinced that there is a clear right answer to this complicated question. That said, my research journey helped me focus on the decision I had to make and its effect on my writing goals. I write stories because I want to emotionally connect with others. Would I prefer to have as many readers as possible give my story a chance? Yes. But do I want to sell my books to everyone at any cost, including the potential emotional torment of another? No, of course not.
If I value the privilege of having strangers let my words into their hearts, I must build and protect a trusting relationship with them. That bond cannot exist if I’m unwilling to do my part to ensure that they don’t accidentally purchase content they might find traumatic. I won’t attempt to create an exhaustive list of every potential trigger in my next release, but I can take the sensitivity reader’s suggestion. While I’m certain that the decision to add this notice in the author’s note will result in some readers choosing not to pick up this particular story, I’m equally certain that it is better to lose those readers for this one book rather than to hurt and lose them for all future books.
My personal choice, however, does not resolve the bigger questions about censorship, spoilers, or whether such warnings do more harm than good (the reinforcement theory mentioned above). I’m curious to know your thoughts about the debate, so please share your opinion in the comment section.
I’m curious to know your thoughts about the debate, so please share your opinion in the comment section.
Many thanks to today’s guest.
You can read more WU guest posts by visiting this link.
An interesting topic, Jamie, and one I suspect will generate much discussion here. As someone whose last project was deemed by several publishers as “too quiet,” even though one story line explored the ramifications of incest in an isolated town, I want to weigh in on this. With our country having adapted to death around every turn these days, from bullets to viruses, it seems the stakes in stories need to be higher and higher to get a charge out of anyone. Even a “lighter” book like The Guncle (Steven Rowley) would need a warning about opioid addiction, and the entire thriller genre would trigger someone who had been stalked, raped, involved in a shooting, etc.
And yet these issues are worthy of exploration in our novels. Jodi Picoult had built her ripped-from-the headlines brand on such stories. As an avid reader who is also a trauma survivor (abusive childhood, husband’s suicide) I simply stopped reading novels while I was raw and still dealing with my family’s emergency. Gun shots and the whirring of helicopter blades can still trigger me, but not the honest exploration of disturbing topics in a novel.
I have purchased and put down many books that weren’t to my taste, ranging from gratuitous graphic violence to too many randomly repeated words (literary abuse, to me—I am an editor after all) and do not feel duped. It’s simply the way of it with books. If someone feels endangered while reading a book, they can put it down in like fashion. I just quit watching the movie musical Mathilda because I couldn’t bear one more scene of child abuse. My choice. I do not expect an author or director to protect my mental health. That’s on me, every minute of every day.
I do not expect or want to be warned. Despite my general disinterest in gore, the disembowelment of William Wallace was a powerfully moving, earned scene at the end of Braveheart that I would have missed had I been reading it in a book that came with a trigger warning. Trigger warnings seem a breath away from a rating system which feels another breath away from censorship, in my opinion. I’m not a fan.
And to your final point, I never held it against Anna Quindlen for dipping into the topic of spousal abuse in Black and Blue, which was definitely a dark turn for her. I liked the novel. Titles, covers, and back cover copy already do a lot to convey a novel’s mood. I didn’t have a trigger warning on The Far End of Happy and have had many suicide survivors (including attempted) thank me for writing it. I would not want to warn such people away. So…I guess I’m against trigger warnings, lol. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to think this through!
Katherine, I enjoyed reading your thoughtful and personal response (and am sorry for the trauma you’ve suffered at points in your life). I think what makes this so difficult is that we’re facing competing interests: what’s best for books/art and the publishing industry versus what harm may come to individuals who inadvertently pick up a book that contains a trigger that he/she/they cannot handle. It’s a bit of a tug-of-war. Like you, I like reading about uncomfortable or painful things I’ve experienced because I often find it cathartic and enlightening. Those of us who are perhaps a bit more hardy, however, may not always fully comprehend the perspective or pain of those who are still struggling with past/current trauma, and for this reason, I ultimately choose the ‘do no harm’ to people route despite my real concerns about the slippery slope. I suppose my choice might change depending on how these lines continue to be drawn and the real impact on the industry plays out a bit more. If only I had a crystal ball…
I can appreciate everything you say here, Jamie. It’s truly a tug-of-war, as you say. Luckily, without regulation in this regard, we can each come to our own choice.
Katherine I really liked this from your response: “My choice. I do not expect an author or director to protect my mental health. That’s on me, every minute of every day.”
As a person who experienced child abuse both physical and mental, as well as sexual assault, I agree that we are responsible for our mental health. Through counseling, I came to terms with the effects of that abuse, and I’m not traumatized if I read a book that deals with abuse. I can relate, heart to heart, which is how I believe we as a writer make a strong connection to a reader. I don’t like the abuse. It does make me remember mine, but the remembering doesn’t debilitate me.
Art truly does imitate life, and life doesn’t come with any trigger warnings. So, I’m definitely in the camp that says we don’t need them. If a reader has experienced rape, perhaps reading a story about how a person dealt with the experience and trauma will help the reader through his or hers.
Like you said, Katherine, if a reader finds the reading too difficult, they can simply put the book down.
BTW, I totally agree about the ending of Braveheart. The whole movie was awash in violence and gore, but the underlying theme of a desperate need for freedom made it necessary.
Thanks for joining in. I’m sorry you experienced abuse and am glad that you had the opportunity to undergo therapy. Not everyone has the resources or wherewithal to do the same, of course, so not all will be as capable of managing stress and discomfort when those triggers arise. We can’t control what life throws at us, but does that mean we should not think about what we throw at readers? Yes, a reader can put a book down, but at that point, the harm is done. The pain has surfaced and that reader must manage feelings that might have been avoided. Unfortunately, there doesn’t appear to be a perfect solution, but I think it worthwhile not to assume that all readers have our own capacity to handle their own trauma when making these decisions. For now, there is no requirement to warn, so each author is free to make this choice on his/her/their own, and their readers will ultimately decide how they feel about that choice.
While I understand the views of those who favor trigger warnings, I’m in complete agreement with Kathryn. If readers start to feel uncomfortable reading a book, they can put it down. And reading the back copy often indicates whether the story is one that a reader wants to avoid.
Another issue arises when an agent requires content warnings in a query letter. In the novel I’ve been querying, there is a rape (off the page), an attempted suicide, prejudice toward immigrants, and a baby death. The heart of the story is not about any of these, but mentioning them in a query letter might give any one aspect of the novel more weight than perhaps it should. When asked to warn, though, l comply. But it’s just as easy for agents to indicate in their submission guidelines that they don’t want to see novels that contain certain topics that might trigger them. That’s fair game.
Novels are about life and life experiences are vast. See, eg, Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead. Many passages in that book absolutely gutted me, but the author’s empathy for her characters outweighed, for me at least, the discomfort I felt in reading certain passages. If we as writers and readers are continually looking for safe spaces, our choices and the richness of life’s experiences will inevitably narrow. And that, to me, is just sad.
I finished Demon Copperhead recently. That was an excellent and difficult story, for sure. I’m also sure my difficulty with some of those scenes might pale in comparison with someone who had that actual lived experience and came out the other side (or who lost loved ones to drugs and other things in that book). As I’ve mentioned in several responses, I’m not persuaded by the “real life throws stuff at your without warning” argument because I don’t think that means authors should not stop to consider how their work might affect that small percentage of readership that may truly experience emotional pain as a result of a surprise element that touches on a past trauma that they have not come to terms with. Yes, they can put the book down, but at that point, the damage is done. I’m not convinced that result is the best one.
Yes, Kathryn. All of this.
Jamie, I like warnings. Mostly because it gives me a choice if I want to try a subject I’m not keen on or decide not to try it. With book marketing the way it is these days, it’s often not accurate about sensitive subjects. Even book reviewers can be deceptive. As a reader, if I spend my money on a book and discover that the subject matter is offensive or disturbing, I feel misled or even tricked sometimes. Publishers and authors need to be honest and upfront about these things for the reader. My vote is yes for trigger warnings.
Thanks for your response. I am curious if you could provide a specific example of the inaccuracy you describe as I have not experienced this, personally. For the most part, I think authors and publishers have a vested interest in being accurate for the very reason/complaint your are lodging. Long-term, it would be a terrible business model to try to dupe readers into buying troublesome books. That said, for obvious reasons (spoilers, etc.), blurbs and such cannot “give away” the full story and all its twists without ruining the entire reading experience. Given your experiences, I would encourage you to avail yourself of those trigger warning websites I shared above before purchasing a book. That should minimize your exposure to content you find displeasing or sensitive. Good luck and happy reading!
A book is so intimate. It lives in your head. It puts you in the head of a character. As you mention, it’s a trust between reader and author. And for me, as an author, I chose to recognize that contract and state a content warning.
It’s not about anything else but that trust. It’s not whataboutism. It’s author and reader.
I’m glad you came to your conclusion to warn. I don’t remember a tv show with suicide that doesn’t have a warning in the beginning and a help line number at the end for the last 20 years. That just feels responsible (and probably a broadcasting law). How has publishing shirked this for so long? I don’t know. Authors and readers have to find their own way. In the end, as an author, you have to live with yourself.
As a reader, I lose respect when certain subjects are used as flippant plot points or in an ignorant or insensitive way. Plus I feel robbed. Books are crazy expensive now. I won’t buy from that author again.
Thanks for weighing in, Ada. Obviously, I share a lot of this sentiment (in terms of the contract between authors and readers, and the “life” of a book in a reader’s mind). That said, I don’t know that it is quite as simplistic as do it or don’t do it, as I tried to suggest above. There are very real negative consequences to some types of warnings (in the form of censorship, spoilers, and the inability to identify every trigger). With the advent of websites to help sensitive readers determine potentially difficult material in a certain book, perhaps the best compromise is for authors to upload their warnings on those sites and then point readers there (that way readers who don’t need or want these warnings do not have to have elements of the story prematurely divulged). I don’t know…that is sort of the point, though.
As an editor who does authenticity and sensitivity reading, I’m always interested in this topic and the way authors and readers respond to it. It’s a nuanced conversation with no universally “right” or “wrong” answers.
One aspect I will touch on here is the tendency in culture to label things and then turn on those labels. As you mentioned, creators, including some authors, have long included content statements in their product descriptions (“This piece includes depictions of sexual violence/slavery/abuse …” etc.) without much fanfare or attention. It seems as if it’s only been recently when the term “trigger” started being used more often (sometimes excessively) that some folks began pushing back against including these statements. It’s almost as if some are more upset about the term than they are about the content. That said, I know the feeling of settling down to read a book I’ve been excited to read, only to be surprised by depictions of violent racism and fat phobia *that didn’t fit the genre.* I think that’s a key point here: how to manage reader expectation. Sometimes a mention of something in the book blurb will give enough context so a content warning might not be necessary.
It’s impossible to “warn” readers about all potentially disturbing content in every book, and I don’t believe that’s even necessary. I also don’t think those who want to censor books need a reason to, and the presence of content warnings in certain books isn’t what’s driving the current spate of book bans. Look what’s happening today in Florida and other Southern states where books that talk about racism (even books about Dr. King) and sexual identity are being banned based solely on the topic, not on the presence warnings.
Do I have the answers to whether authors should or shouldn’t include warnings? Definitely not, but I think that authors making informed decisions, as you did, about how to approach content warnings and notices is the path forward.
Thanks for adding to the conversation, particularly with your background. You raise a great point about managing reader expectations, particularly within certain genres. As I said to Kathryn, there is a bit of tug-of-war between industry concerns and human feelings, and thus there is no clear path forward at this point, although the book banning matter is certainly a very troubling and real concern for all (or most, in any case).
Thanks for making the distinction between “product descriptions and trigger warnings.” I’m totally on board with the first because a product description is just there. No alarms. No concerns. Just words saying what is in the book.
Like Jamie said, with trigger warnings there is a danger of “reinforcing the idea that a trauma is central to a survivor’s identity.”
It is not our identity. With help, trauma survivors learn to deal with the past, and a big part of recovery is learning that we are not our “child abuse” or “rape.” If we don’t learn to change the way we see ourselves, we are more likely to have more emotional trauma.
That part (the reinforcement theory advanced by some studies) is definitely a big reason to be careful with this subject and, for me, requires serious thought. I was fortunate enough to have a mother who got me into therapy young to deal with the violent household/father, and that helped me a lot. Not everyone had that opportunity, and I wonder how different I would be (and how I might be affected by domestic abuse stories) had I not had that opportunity and help in understanding that I am not defined by that history. More food for thought, for sure.
I’m in Kathryn Craft’s camp. Not a fan of trigger warnings. How far down that rabbit hole should we go? Trigger warnings for abortion, miscarriage, infertility, emotional abuse, divorce, infidelity, brain injury, chronic illness, bullying, LGTBQ issues, racism, antisemitism, lying, death of a child, giving a child up for adoption, death of a pet, cults, break-ins, war, prisons, guns, mass shootings. These are all topics ripe for novels and could theoretically be emotionally disturbing for hundreds of thousands, if not millions of people. But we all make decisions about what we want to read, watch, and listen to every day. I feel certain that all it would take is reading the back cover and a few reviews to decide if that book is not for you. I don’t believe that a laundry list of trigger warnings on a book is going to shield people from reliving trauma. We get that from life, and it doesn’t come with trigger warnings.
Densie, thanks for your thoughts. We do get trauma in life without warning, I agree. Some people are better equipped to handle it than others, I think you would agree. So I think the question is really whether we want to inflict it on unsuspecting readers (those who are most sensitive) that way if we don’t have to. At the risk of repeating myself, I don’t profess to have the ‘right’ answer, and it seems at this point, the decision is still largely up to the author. I do feel that the websites that offer trigger warning data are a potential compromise (an author can post info there and point readers that way without putting labels directly on their book). It will be interesting to see where publishing lands on this topic in the coming years.
Densie–your wise and witty comment has at last brought to awareness: your name is not Denise. The list you give of topics ripe for novels is all too depressingly true. Is there no room left for anything but melodrama? Perhaps not. It’s becoming increasingly difficult, but my goal remains the same: to find and read books that don’t rely on trauma or outrage, but manage to make less theatrical subjects and themes come alive.
Jamie, please accept my personal thank-you for saving the rest of us a trip down this particular rabbit hole. And for writing so well about it after your return. But if I’m honest, I couldn’t be tempted to make the trip. With the possible exception of children, the idea of protecting readers against what they’re about to read really does sound like something Alice might have heard from the Mad Hatter. All I can think to add is this: a reader who’s read the description for a book and decides to read shouldn’t need trigger warnings. If she does, I think she should stop reading, and confine her story experience to the Hallmark Channel.
I appreciate the kind words about my journey into this topic. In many cases, I would agree that the book cover, the back jacket copy, and early reviews should often be enough to give most readers a good sense for whether a story might inflict some measure of stress on them (if they’ve suffered a particular trauma that is an element of the story). The problem is (in my humble opinion) when neither the blurb nor other data reveals that information (perhaps intentionally because it is part of a plot twist the author does not want to be revealed). I don’t think that, on the whole, this should be a binary choice between living in the Hallmark fictional world vs. reading more widely. There are many ‘crossover’ readers who can deal with realistic and difficult topics, but may still have one particularly sensitive topic (due to a personal tragedy or whatnot) that they wish to avoid. That’s the reader that I worry about.
Wow, Barry, you said it so well. My WIP is not about sweetness and light. Who really wants a constant diet of sweetness and light. Yes, parents might guide what their children read…depending on the age of the child and their maturity. But how do we learn about things Mom might not discuss. The world is full of good and evil. My first encounter with the word RAPE…reading the Chicago Tribune. It was a reference to Nazi history. My mother was making dinner. And there I was asking her, what is RAPE. You cannot protect children from those words. You can decide and you must decide if you have children, to inform them. You can check out what they are reading. As for adults…come on. Turn on the television and it’s all there. And I stopped watching the Hallmark Channel long ago. Thanks for your post, Jamie.
Elizabeth, thanks for sharing your opinions. As I said to Barry, I think it is not quite fair to make this as binary as Hallmark world vs. real world. I believe there are many readers in the in-between who can handle (and are interested in) realistic stories about grief and pain and so on. But even within that group, some readers may be particularly sensitive to a particular topic (say, if they were raped, perhaps any rape scene or threat of rape is too painful for that reader, while suicide, domestic abuse, or drug use would pose no problem). In other words, I think there is a lot of gray area, and it might be a bit dismissive to write off readers who have a trigger or two as being unable to read other heavy/consequential material. The cost of providing those readers a measure of prevention is, at this point, easier for me to bear than receiving an email from a reader who I, however inadvertently, harmed in some way. I respect, however, that not every author agrees and would make the same choice, as I respect the very real and troubling slippery slope of requiring too many labels on any kind of art.
I just want to say how much I am loving the depth, sensitivity, nuance, and candor of this conversation! Others have already made the points I might have made, so I will leave my comment as simply THANK YOU to all.
I, too, appreciate the candor. It is a rather fraught topic for many, and it take courage to share opinions so publicly. I also enjoy a good debate, and love to play devils advocate even in cases where I might agree with an opinion! LOL
I do not appreciate trigger warnings. Before I read a horror novel, I Google if there’s animal harm. Anyone can do that about any book. There’s zero need to include it in the book itself. For me a major issue is spoilers. And if I read a TW I’ll keep waiting for it to happen in the book, which is stressful and unnecessary and ruins the carefully paced and plotted story. If someone has an issue they can’t read about, they can go online and research if its in the book. Maybe that sounds harsh, but as someone who can’t read about animal harm, it works just fine. Even rated films don’t give precise trigger warnings.
I love the point about “waiting for it to happen” in a story. That’s a very real harm to the overall reading experience that I’d put under the spoilers heading. Savvy readers can certainly make use of technology to find all the information you describe. But I think of my 79-year-old mother who reads about 10 books per month but can barely use any of the apps on her phone (she claims “fat fingers”) and who would not have the ability (certainly not without some assistance) to do that kind of recon. Food for thought… Thanks for weighing in!
Thanks for this, Lily: “And if I read a TW I’ll keep waiting for it to happen in the book, which is stressful and unnecessary and ruins the carefully paced and plotted story.”
I have so many thoughts (spoilers, censorship, what isn’t a trigger at this point?) but I’ll limit my comment to my lived experience as an author who worked through her own childhood trauma partly through writing a book about someone dealing with a childhood trauma.
My editor advocated for a trigger warning on my fourth novel. My agent and I were against it. It did not get one. And I have gotten SO MANY emails and had many face-to-face conversations with readers who had a similar traumatic experience in their past and were SO THANKFUL for the way I wrote about it. A trigger warning may have kept them from reading a book that ultimately helped them to work through and process something that happened to them that they have never been able to forget, forgive, get over, etc. They found in the character and in me as a writer someone who understood them, didn’t dismiss them, didn’t coddle them, didn’t blame them. People who never told anyone what had happened to them told me and started along the road to healing.
The converse of that is this: reviews that mention there should be a trigger warning on that book seem to be from people who are well-meaning on behalf of those who have suffered this particular trauma. Not, it seems, people who have dealt with it themselves. I appreciate that well-meaning and compassionate people don’t want others to relive trauma. But “reliving” in a PTSD sense is different than someone “reencountering” their pain, which has potential to be healing in a way avoidance is not. When the pain is fresh from a recent experience, no, I wouldn’t want someone to experience it again. But when it has lingered long, in some cases for nearly a person’s entire lifetime (one reader told me of an experience 63 years in the past that she still thought about) I think being given an opportunity to look again at terrible experience and move further along that road to healing, I wouldn’t want to discourage that. And I think that latter kind of reader experience is far more common than the former. I’ve yet to get an angry email from someone who suffered because of my work, telling me I should have had one.
So, I started anti-trigger warning for a number of theoretical reasons. I remain anti-trigger warning for real-life reasons.
And yet, because my latest book that just released includes a character suffering with lung cancer, and my father-in-law was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer this summer and is suffering greatly (a complete coincidence, as the manuscript had been turned in six months before his diagnosis) I told him, my mother-in-law, and my sister-in-law that they may want to skip reading this one because of it. My sister-in-law read it anyway. And she said, yeah, there were parts that were hard to read, but she loved the story.
So I gave them all a personal warning, knowing that we are all in the midst of the most difficult thing any of us have had to face thus far in life. And still, she found joy and good and benefit from reading it.
Erin, thanks for sharing so much of your personal story. Like you, I’ve had opportunities in my life to work through pain with the help of therapists and through my stories. Also like you, I learn new things about myself when reading fiction that deals with things I’ve experienced, which is certainly to my benefit. I also understand that part of PTSD therapy is about confronting what happened to lessen its ultimate affect. Knowing something of you and your work, I know you take great care to address these topics with research and compassion. Not every author will do that, unfortunately. And not every reader has the guidance of therapist or even a healthy friend and family support-system. In those less-than-ideal circumstances, I do wonder how being confronted (by surprise) by a painful topic might hit that reader. Your desire to protect your family from experiencing pain is precisely what I suppose many who choose the include some kind of warning are thinking about. It’s wonderful that your sister-in-law read your work despite your warning, and that she found benefit in doing so. I don’t know that that means that same result would transfer to every reader in all other circumstances and books. This is the reason why I remain unable to have as clear-cut an opinion as many of you share, although I concede the many valid points raised by all the replies to my post.
Erin, this is a super interesting insight, supported by Anonymous’s comment below: “…reviews that mention there should be a trigger warning on that book seem to be from people who are well-meaning on behalf of those who have suffered this particular trauma. Not, it seems, people who have dealt with it themselves.” I appreciated your comment very much.
Hmm…Jamie…what an interesting topic.
As an editor, I often encourage my authors to dig deeper. Most characters benefit from a traumatic backstory experience or a life-affirming change. While these can range widely–one person’s traumatic experience is another person’s day-to-day situation–good and bad experiences make us who we are. My point: almost every book has or should have potential triggers. Would The Brothers Grimm even be published today? I’m not so sure.
But your post refers to warnings. And you are right, this is a delicate decision to be considered with verve.
Ideally, possible triggers should be suggested within the book title, blurb, genre, or marketing copy. If doing so is not possible, I think the idea of leading readers–those worried about triggers–to more detailed information is a wonderful idea. Trigger details could be covered on an author’s website, publisher’s site, or book site without spoiling major or minor plot twists.
Thanks for making me think long and hard on this subject matter. I don’t imagine we’ll ever live in a sterilized world, nor do I believe we should. But there is no harm in considering those who might need us to think before we leap.
Thanks for sharing, Jamie.
Yours,
Dee
Dee, it’s good to know that there are thoughtful editors out there who are carefully weighing the pros and cons. I think that is what I most hoped to accomplish by my post–the idea that, despite our personal abilities, experiences, and feelings on this subject, it is important to make sure we are looking at all angles and outcomes before making a decision.
I have no desire to whitewash fiction or put bubble wrap around every book. I do think it important that art challenges society and forces us to face certain truths about the human experience and condition. That said, not all authors and editors take enough care to research and write these topics authentically (which can lead to bad stereotypes and worse outcomes for all readers let alone those who’ve experienced the thing in real life), and not all readers are healed enough (for whatever reason) to handle having something forced on them without any kind of warning.
For sure, covers, blurbs, and early reviews are definitely one way to, at a minimum, hint at difficult subject matter without revealing actual spoilers or plot points that are slowly revealed in the text. It is a balancing act, for sure. One I think costs very little to consider. At the same time, I am not in favor (at this point) in being forced to label books. I do think the author, with advice from editors and agents, ultimately should make that call as it will affect them and their readership the most.
In the past I have suffered from debilitating PTSD, which eventually led to a hospitalization for suicidal ideation and a suicide attempt. (After much therapy and some useful medication, I’ve made as full a recovery as anyone could hope to make. Happy ending, yay!)
For me, at least, the bottom line for safety was “nothing cold, no surprises.” Whatever the potentially traumatic topic, what I needed to engage with it safely (or to choose to disengage with it safely) was a soft approach where the traumatic material was gradually and heavily telegraphed from context. Movie starts with spooky music? Ominous shot of a house? Group of kids having a summer at the lake? Nope, that means murders, not for me. A romance novel with a pink fluffy cover on a horse ranch? Probably fine. Fantasy novel where the protagonist suffered child abuse, and it’s gradually unspooled as part of the backstory? Also fine, because the material is gradually increasing in intensity, and I can call it quits whenever it no longer feels good to engage.
What did not work for me were, ironically, trigger warnings. They were were the opposite of helpful– because they came out of the blue, they’d immediately set off the damaging thought spirals and suicidal ideation. I’d be bopping along on some website, reading, idk, fanfic, and BOOM: NOW THINK ABOUT RAPE.
For *years*, I had to avoid all of the spaces that purported to be thoughtful toward survivors, just because of this approach. Awful. It was so isolating. Made me hate everyone and everything.
The other thing I’d like to point out is that oftentimes triggers can be tied to something that anyone outside the context of the trauma would not regard as traumatic– the soap scent at the time the traumatic event took place, for instance. Some of my triggers fall in this category. So, even if a person did supply trigger warnings for the obvious sorts of things, there are still people you would be excluding.
For myself, in my own work, I try to be very careful with foreshadowing, and leave things at that.
Thank you for sharing this. It points directly to the research results I mention, and the potential damage that these warnings may unwittingly cause. In a sense, there is a bit of “damned if I do warn, and damned if I don’t” because of different readers’ reactions to these things. The foreshadowing is definitely key. Also, a friend mentioned using book detail pages to direct readers to her website if they wanted trigger warnings, which seems like a good compromise, too (perhaps a special page with the warnings so not every reader who visits the site is shown that content).
Thank you so much for sharing this. Very helpful insight.
Also, I just wanted to add that I’m not a fan of arguments along the lines of “real life doesn’t have trigger warnings.” Nature/real life doesn’t have curb cuts, elevators, and wheelchair lifts, either, nor does it warn you of deadly allergens, yet we provide such things because we’ve collectively decided that disabled people need and deserve to participate in broader society.
The only question is– do trigger warnings accomplish greater accessibility, and, if so, what are the tradeoffs to others who are similarly disabled.
Really interesting and apt analogy. Thanks for adding even more to this conversation.
Great conversation. It’s all been said.
Though I’d like to add, what do we do about the classics? Tom Sawyer, Lolita, Anna Karenina, All Quiet on the Western Front, and works by Shakespeare, etc. etc. So much can trigger a reader. Where do we begin and where do we end?
I’m a former family therapist. Books can heal, but also highlight what’s unresolved in the reader. I believe the blurb is enough and the reader can stop reading if it’s impossible to go on.
Great question, Diana. I suspect, unlike a new novel, the classics have more than ample reputations (their content is pretty well-known) that no type of label is needed because most readers have a good idea about the book before they sit down with it.
My recent book deals with difficult subjects off the page and has scenes where the teen’s trauma is triggered (by walking by a park, not violence.) But it’s about her dealing with grief and her past and continuing her journey of healing, as well as her relationship with her mom who is also healing. The teen also meets an older woman who she can relate to due to difficulties that woman has endured and is healing from. I think it’s important that people not feel alone in their pain, and it would be sad if readers who could be sensitive to triggers missed out, on comfort they could gain, due to warnings that might sound scarier than the book’s situations actually are.
I debated how much detail to put into the description of the story, especially since the tone of the story is uplifting and focused on positive growth. I opted to hint at it all clearly, so started with, ‘A Story of Friendship and Light… Lydia has been in dark places, and she still feels alone…’
I believe descriptions can guide readers and let those who want to visit difficult topics to continue working through grief and/or trauma therapy have that choice. Using triggering words for labels that file books into groups where one size won’t fit all, may put readers off from something that could have profoundly reached and encouraged them. This is not all about money and marketing, it’s about shared human experience, as well. I would err on the side of more readily helping people, that might not be reached any other way. I think labels/warnings should remain a choice, not a mandate.
Thanks for adding to the conversation. Yes, I agree that this is best left to the author to decide at this point, and would not support a mandate. Within these comments we’ve amassed many anecdotal responses. I would love to see more validated research on the topic, particularly around the potential harm these labels may cause. I think that those kinds of studies could help make the answers clearer for all.
When I decided to put a “Content warning” in my novel, it was precisely for your reason, “If I value the privilege of having strangers let my words into their hearts, I must build and protect a trusting relationship with them.” Building a relationship and readership is more important than a sale.
The warning gives the reader agency. They make the decision whether to read after they look at the back cover and read reviews. Which I believe most readers do before a purchase.
I have read two books where there was no warning of graphic content, nor did any reviewers warn of this other than use a euphemism like “spicy” or “vengeful.” I’ll never buy another book from those authors.
Thanks for sharing your experiences. As I’ve stated, mine was a personal decision, and its not meant to impugn another author’s different choice. As many here have stated (including myself), much can be gained by reading about certain topics, particularly by those who’ve experienced them. Ensuring that a reader has made that choice before they are exposed to content seems to be the hard part–how do we best do that? I don’t know that there is a perfect answer.
Jamie, I’m reading with interest as I’m procrastinating on a historical that contains childhood trauma–it a children’s book and I would expect parents to read it themselves first to judge whether it’s appropriate for their child. Ultimately, it’s a book about forgiveness and healing and it could be an aid for a reader’s own healing from childhood trauma, but parents know their kids best. For ex., my children were raised without any TV/video games the first ten years of their lives so they were far more sheltered than their peers. But when my son wanted to read Hunger Games in sixth grade, I knew he could handle the violence depicted. And we had many interesting discussions. But my daughter didn’t pick it up until she was in high school. I think for children’s literature, it’s especially important to know the kind of content that’s in the book and I would think the flap copy should be enough.
My niece, who’s survived a very difficult childhood, and I had a discussion about this recently and as others have mentioned earlier, stories have incredible power to heal. I often think along the lines of when the student/patient is ready the teacher/doctor appears. Trigger warnings themselves can be a source of anxiety. It is far better when things unfold organically. I remember when I picked up Rohinton Mistry’s Fine Balance. I couldn’t read it for several months because it brought back so many difficult memories but when I was ready, it was there on my shelf. It’s one of my favorite books. A similar thing happened with Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.
Thank you for your wonderful post and the discussion. I’m definitely in the camp that thinks less is more. The natural unfolding of a story is far better than any trigger warning. And I hope I can stick to my guns when the time comes with my book.
Good luck making your final decision. As someone said earlier, a lot of this is really about managing reader expectations, and how well the cover and blurb signal some of the potentially difficult elements so that the most sensitive readers have that option to pass if they do not feel ready for whatever reason, as is their right.
I think this post may have needed a trigger warning. Seriously, though, thank you for bringing this complex topic to WU today and for sharing your experience, Jamie. This is an important and timely issue for us to consider, especially in an evolving marketplace—and world. Comment sections as robust as this can help us to sort out how we genuinely feel about something and where we’re still uncertain.
Thank you for inviting me to discuss it. I’m still sorting through my own thoughts, and would very much love for psychologists to conduct a wide study that drills down into whether these things do more harm than good. I am certain that everyone who participated today, regardless of their inclination on this topic, is interested in making sure that the reader experience is a positive one (and would welcome data that extends beyond their personal preferences and experiences). I know I would!
Thanks for addressing this topic, Jamie, and to everyone for their comments, and to WU for the forum to share them. My thoughts: Can you imagine if Sophocles had included trigger warnings in Oedipus Rex? Or Shakespeare in Romeo and Juliet, MacBeth, Othello, and Hamlet? These classics are recognized exactly for their portrayal of various evils — and their consequences. How a writer handles an ugly subject, and why he or she chose to write about it, often is lost or ignored in the debate.
I agree that how an author handles a subject definitely has an impact on every reader, not just those who might be legitimately triggered by a particular element. I don’t know if looking back is always helpful, though. Think about all the books with highly problematic content (horrible stereotyping, perpetuating patriarchal ideals, body shaming, etc.) that were considered fine in the past that we would not endorse today. Again, not saying there should be a mandate, but I do think the subject requires careful consideration on a book-by-book basis.
Perhaps a good solution to the apparent variance of people finding content warnings necessary vs finding them annoying or worse than encountering the trigger without forewarning is to put the content warnings at the end of the book and note at the beginning what page they’re on? That way those who wish to be warned can flip to the page, and those who don’t can easily avoid them.
I would like to note, content warnings aren’t only to allow people to decide whether or not they’re up to reading the material at all – they can also serve to prepare someone who will choose to read it anyway, but might have been triggered without the forewarning. There’s certainly content that I have specifically asked those who suggest books, movies, and tv series to me, to warn me about before hand. I generally still read or watch the thing, but I make sure to do it on a day when it won’t be damaging to my mental health (and am more likely to appreciate the story for having done so), and I’m definitely not the only person who does this.
Dorian, I was thinking along similar lines. Why not put trigger warnings in a place that is easy to find but easy to avoid, like the back of the book or on one of the websites people mentioned, then say “content warnings are on page N / website X” on the back of the title page? Or maybe even “spoilery content warnings”? That gives agency to both people who want warnings and people who don’t.
I don’t keep track but have definitely had a few friends report that they personally would have wanted a trigger warning (not just wanting them for other people’s sake).
That’s a smart idea.
Yes, I agree that there are compromises here that could satisfy all. You could put a simple note at the beginning that says “This book may contain content that triggers some readers. For further detail, please see {refer them to a page on your website, or one of those trigger warning databases, or some other place}” That really seems to be the easiest way (I wish I had thought of that sooner!).
This is an discussion. I notice that almost every comment concerns people who have suffered trauma in the past. It’s my understanding that trigger warnings are there to help people currently dealing with mental health issues, family members with addiction etc. Not to remind people of what they‘ve already dealt with. You mentioned A Man Called Otto. I read the novel and saw the movie when it came out, and agree that it ends up being an uplifting book. When I went to see the latest iteration with Tom Hanks, I was shocked and upset to see that it begins with him trying to hang himself, and shows the intricate planning and the actual (unsuccessful) attempt. And there are repeated attempts as the story continues. These didn’t affect me in the original work, but a much-loved family member died by his own hand a month ago, so this had a lot more of an impact on me that it did before. His adult son suffers from the same chronic depression, and I would do my absolute utmost to discourage him from watching this, because suicide ideation has been a problem for him too. Again, the situation is current, and I would have appreciated a trigger warning.
As someone who needs those trigger warnings to avoid going into suicidal ideation and possible attempts from coming across such triggers, we absolutely need them in reviews, special websites, and even the book itself. You have no idea how many books are out there that I have to do a crap ton of research on to find trigger warnings before even picking up and half the time there aren’t any and then my mental health is damaged because I end up in a book that triggered me to the point I almost commit suicide from. So thanks for that by the way! If there ends up not being trigger warnings anywhere at all for ALL books then guess what, I’m no longer picking up another book because I’m not going to end up in another Psych ward from trying to escape into a fictional world that is supposed to help my mental health and not damage it instead.
Thanks so much for this post. Through posts like yours I have come to believe that trigger warnings are essential, though I’m still waffling over where to put them, so that those who need them can easily find them but those who consider them spoilers can easily not be exposed them. Where do you think they should go? Title page? Appendix? URL for some stable website?
I meant “best place for them to go” since you had already listed alternatives.