Our Girl

Skyler and I finished a first draft of Incrementalists #2 last night. Working title: The Backmeddle.  That may change, as may everything else, during revisions.  The next step will be to chop scenes, or parts of scenes, that we don’t need.  But even after we do that, this book is going to be big.  By One True Word Count, she comes in at 135,000 words.

But our girl is tall; she was never meant to weigh 100 lbs.  And, more important, she has a healthy body-image.  When critics tell her, “You can never be too thin,” she rolls her eyes and just gets on with her life.  She is a strong girl, and likes it that way.  She chooses not to carry any fat–she wants everything to be there for a reason–but she will certainly not listen to those who tell her what she is supposed to look like.  She runs the hurdles of intertwining plots, she swims through complex themes, she lifts the weight of being a sequel, and she climbs rocks of multi-layered character.  She’ll look like she can do all of those things, and she sees no reason to pretend otherwise.   When we have finished her training, she will be exactly as big as she wants to be, and anyone who thinks she should be smaller can go fuck himself.

Skyler and I are not done helping our girl train, and become everything she is able to be, but she already knows herself, and we’re very proud of her.

 

The Idea of Guilty Pleasures

Disclaimer: If anyone is expecting this blog post to arrive anywhere near a conclusion, it is best to step off before the train gets rolling.  It arrives nowhere.  Stay on board if you think you might enjoy some of the scenery we pass on the way back to where we started.

Last night on Twitter, the subject of “guilty pleasures” came up. What do we mean by it? Is it an inherently objectionable concept? &c &c.  Some questions were asked that I’m having trouble answering, so I’m going to explore them a little.  Guilty pleasure, I think, is a concept worth taking some time with, if for no other reason than because it has some interesting interactions with the question of what we mean by “good.”  And, at least for a writer, it is always worth exploring that question, seeing as how, you know, writing stuff that’s good is kinda the goal.

Those who are saying, “it is time we get rid of this whole concept of guilty pleasures,” have an interesting point.  At least as I understand it, the argument runs, “If you’re enjoying it, there is something of value in it.  If there is something of value in it, maybe we should spend more time figuring out what that is and seeing if others will enjoy it, instead of castigating ourselves for enjoying it even though it does other things badly.”  That’s kind of hard to argue with.  Let’s see where it leads us.

First of all, to be clear, I do not actually feel guilty–in the strict, literal, I-have-just-hurt-the-feelings-of-someone-I-love sense of guilty, about enjoying something I call a guilty pleasure; nor does anyone else I know who uses the term.   What it means for most of us seems to be something along the lines of, “I like this, but I’m afraid if I admit it I’ll be teased about it,” or, “I recognize that this is a bad one-of-these, but I like it anyway.”  Hidden (or, perhaps, not hidden at all) in the idea of guilty pleasures are, therefore, two interesting concepts: one, that we worry about being judged for our taste, and, two, the idea that it is reasonable to have a sort of “good/bad” scale that is at least somewhat independent of one’s “like/dislike” scale.  At which point we realize that what we’re saying (to ourselves if not to anyone else) is, “I’m sorry I’m enjoying this.  I apologize.  I know I shouldn’t.” Sounds kind of dumb, doesn’t it?

Another thing that enters at this point is snobbery.  I don’t terribly care for snobbery, nor do I terribly care for those who point and cry snobbery whenever someone dares to suggest that the food at White Castle may not be as good as at the 5-star restaurant of your choice.  Here, too, we have the idea that there is something to the judgment of good/bad as distinct from like/dislike.

We all know that, for many, many years, science-fiction itself was something that certain literati who enjoyed it have called a guilty pleasure.  For me, the idea of apologizing for enjoying Theodore Sturgeon or Gene Wolfe is silly at best.  And I know that it would hurt my feelings to have someone call my work a guilty pleasure.  So, then, what am I doing apologizing (even if only to myself) for much the same thing?

Can I find a rational argument to support this position? Well, aside from cases that are so extreme as to be useless (horrible errors in spelling, grammar, syntax, or other technical problems) I really can’t. But I do feel that way.  I do feel that, for example, The Destroyer novels (one of my guilty pleasures) is, quite simply, not as good as, say, Zelazny’s Lord of Light.  I’m not at all certain I can justify that feeling, but neither can I ignore it.

I don’t know. Is my belief that there is good and bad in the arts anything more than rank pragmatism?  In other words, is it more than the knowledge that, if I don’t believe in “good,” I’ll be less driven to do my best work? I hope there’s more to it than that. My opinion of pragmatism is something I’ll save for another post, but it isn’t pretty.

There are a some subjective observations that might provide insight: 1. When I think of something as a guilty pleasure, it is based in part on the feeling that the artist did not do his or her best work–that this could have been better if the artist had cared enough.  2. One thing that I always feel when in the presence of what I consider great art, is a sense of awe that a mere human being, just like me, was able to do this, combined with a sense of pride in being a member of a species that could produce it. 3. Confession time:  When addressing a work that I consider good, especially a story, there is at least little part of me (and sometimes a big part) that is feeling, “Damn, I wish I’d created this!”  I never have that feeling with those works that I categorize as guilty pleasures.

So, as promised, I have arrived nowhere.  I’m still not sure what I think about this, or why I think it.  I know it is interesting, and I believe it matters, so I look forward to hearing what some of you think about it.

 

A Comment on Class and Radical Feminism

Some feminist friends pointed this out on Twitter, raising various objections to it.  I do not disagree.  There are issues here that I do not feel qualified to comment on.  For example, is sex work (a term that includes pornography, prostitution, &c) inherently degrading to women, inherently degrading only under capitalism, or something that ought to be socially acceptable?  And the issue of male and trans sex workers is another.  But there are things I do feel I can talk about, and that I think ought not to be left out of the conversation.

It is the poorest women (men too, but for now I’ll keep the discussion confined to the terms RadFemUK laid out) who have the least choice about livelihood.  It is criminal that we live in a society where women can be forced into sex work out of economic desperation (much less by violence!).  But to attack prostitution and pornography without attacking the root of the economic desperation is to be part of the problem.  Even if RadFemUK does not overtly support laws that will harm the poorest sex workers, their activity can, and almost certainly will, be used by right wing forces to pass and enforce such laws.  And laws against women engaged in sex work serve to punish the poorest women for their poverty, by threatening them with arrest, removing their means of making a living, or both.  As always, the higher the economic status of the woman, the more she can shield herself from the effects of such measures as these so-called “Leftists” propose.

So, yes, in this case, I agree with my feminist friends; but I also feel obligated to point out that the attack is not simply on women in general, but is above all another case of using a Left cover to aid anti-democratic and anti-working class measures.

 

On “Splitters” and “Lumpers”

Not long ago, for the second time, I was accused of being a “splitter” instead of a “lumper.”  The first time, I figured they were just terms the guy had made up.  But no, apparently there are actually people who think like that.  As near as I can tell, a “lumper” is someone who wants to unite everyone who is against war and injustice and stuff; whereas a “splitter” is someone who wants to divide those who are against war and injustice and stuff, for reasons that remain unspecified.

My intention is not to personally mock the individuals who said that–both them appear to be dedicated and sincere, actively interested in making the world better, and one cannot help but respect that desire, however deeply one disagrees with the person’s method.  But I do intend to mock the concept, because it is well worth mocking.

The first thing that strikes one about these terms is the absurdity.  I was accused of being a “splitter” because I used a term to describe a certain group on the Left (“Stalinist,” to be exact) that members of that group would take as an insult.  I guess if you describe someone in terms that person wouldn’t like, you’re a splitter.  One can’t help but laugh at this, because, evidently, since “splitter” is a term of disapprobation, if you call someone a splitter, you are, yourself, a splitter.  While this is beside the point, it does indicate a fundamental lack of seriousness.

A second issue is that those who use such terms are always, or almost always, supporters of identity politics, the most significant element of which, in my opinion, is “splitting” the working class.  In other words, what is being said is, “It is bad to create divisions among us right-thinking people.  We should get together and make sure the working class is fighting itself instead.  Go us.”  Is it any wonder that I cannot conceal the utter scorn I feel for such ideas?

I think it is safe to say that the logic behind these terms works something like this:

1. A lot of us want to end war and injustice and stuff.

2. Therefore, all of us who want to end war and injustice and stuff should get together.

3. Anyone who says things that prevent us from getting together is working against ending war and injustice and stuff.

There are a number of assumptions buried in this logic.  These assumptions are, for the most part, never examined.  They are also, in my opinion, dangerously wrong.

First and foremost, there is the assumption that how effective a fight will be depends more on the number of people involved in the fight, than in exactly what sort of activity they are engaged in.  I believe that the Democratic Party, as much as the Republican, is working to roll back democratic freedoms and standard of living, and to support wars of aggression, and defend profit at the expense of human rights.  Those of us who believe that will never be willing to support a Democrat; we would consider it nothing short of betrayal.  How, then, can we “work together” with those who want to pressure politicians?  While you organize to send petitions to the President and letters to your congressman, I’m organizing for the overthrow of the State, and am convinced (right or wrong) that appealing to that State is to create dangerous illusions among the working class.  Just exactly what are we supposed to “lump” together to do?

Even more significant, however, is that the argument as stated above utterly removes any discussion of class.  I believe that we live in a class society, and that this economic fact, the foundation of how society fulfills (or fails to fulfill) its mission to provide basic needs to individuals in that society, is at the heart of every other relationship.  I believe that to actually fight for human rights requires mass action by the working class based on a program that puts it in direct conflict with the two bourgeois parties.  In other words, it doesn’t matter how many “people” believe that injustice should end; it matters what program the working class has when it goes into battle to defend itself.

With this in mind, I am supposed to worry about hurting the feelings of those whose program will politically tie the working class to the enemy?  The issue is not (in this discussion) whether I am right or wrong about how to defend human rights; the point I want to make is that, inherent in dividing people into “splitters” and “lumpers” is a complete rejection of any sort of analysis of society, substituting for it vague impressions and the desire to “do something.”  Laudable in itself, but, without actual understanding of the workings of society, useless or worse.  To me, there is a massive contradiction inherent in someone who puts in countless hours and boundless energy fighting to correct an injustice about which he or she feels passionately, yet dares not, in the course of discussing how best to carry on this fight, use the precise term that applies for fear of giving offense.

But, some will say, if you use insulting terms, you will alienate potential allies, whom you might otherwise convince.  Let us examine this for a moment.  What is being said here is that precision, analysis, and comprehension need to be sacrificed in order to protect the feelings of individuals.  When I’m visiting someone’s home, I will do exactly that–I will refrain from saying that the house is a pigsty and the kid is obnoxious.  In personal interactions in which nothing more is at stake than the feelings of individuals, I think it is a good thing to avoid giving offense, and I will sometimes sacrifice honesty to do so.   

But if we’re dealing with the effort to change the world, to actually create a society in which human decency is more important than individual profit, in which the full creative power of the individual is not held in check or (more often) fully suppressed by the need to simply live, in which such problems as global climate change can be addressed without concern for who gains or loses wealth thereby, then consider the possibility that, just maybe, scientific precision is more important than whether someone’s feelings get hurt.  And, to answer the argument, the person who sees that, the one who ignores personal feelings in order to fully investigate and understand the concepts behind such words as “Stalinism”, “Revisionism”, or “Opportunism” to determine if the terms are accurate and precise and what the consequences are for proceeding along these lines, this person is exactly the one who can make a contribution to solving the problems we face today.  The ones who have no reaction other than hurt feelings are welcome to “lump” together and have a good outrage session over it.  I hope they find it validating.

What does “Politically Correct” mean?

Ring-wing pundits drive themselves into paroxysms of rage crying out against “political correctness,” which term, when used, drives pundits on the other side into paroxysms of rage.  I propose to take a moment to consider what it means, or, failing that, what I mean by it.

If we’re going to talk about the term, we should remember, first of all, that it was coined by those it now describes, and was used ironically, as a bit of gentle self-mockery.  “Man, that is one ugly dude.  Ooops, I guess that was ‘politically incorrect.'”  It was always used (verbally at least) with air quotes and a sense of, “Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said that” which however much I might dislike their politics, I have to describe as not only inoffensive, but charming.  On the other hand, as these tend to be the same people who want to change the conventions of  language in accordance with their ideology, and defend this with the triumphant cry, “Language evolves!” as if there were those who think it doesn’t, I have only limited sympathy if the term they coined has now come to mean something different.

The next thing to remind ourselves of is that a considerable amount of what we sometimes call being politically correct, is nothing more than reasonable courtesy toward another human being.  If you use offensive terms to describe a group or an individual (with some exceptions), you’re not being “politically incorrect,” you’re being a jerk.  (The exceptions, of course, involve individuals or groups that deserve it–I have no intention of finding nice terms to describe Dick Chaney, scabs, or the KKK).

Another aspect to the term that I think most people aren’t aware of is that it contains interesting (and chilling) echoes of Stalinism, with its “self-criticism” sessions, and desperation to make sure one was following the “party line.”  I’m pretty sure those who coined the term were at least somewhat aware of this and were making fun of it, and, seriously, I do not have a problem with anyone mocking the absurdities of Stalinism.

So, where’s the problem?  It is more subtle than that.  It involves, in my opinion, excessive concern with form over substance, with appearance over essence, with the subjective over the objective, with idea over matter.  It is a question, in the last analysis, of method, and I contend that an incorrect method will produce incorrect–and dangerous–results.

The first time I heard something that I would later identify as being part of the PC movement was when a friend explained that he hated the song “Maggie May” by Rod Stewart, because the second verse was “ageist.”  I think my mouth fell open and I stared at him, and, as I came to realize he was utterly serious, what went through my head was some form of, “That’s not even a thing.  Is that a thing?”

Yeah, it’s a thing.  So is, god help us all, “ableism.”  Because, you see, the primary concern of huge sections of the middle class “left” is with “ageism”–not age discrimination.  And with “ableism,” and not with making sure that people with disabilities are given full access to public buildings, jobs, and everything else society has to offer.  You see, what matters most to these people is the words used, the ideas they reflect; the hard realities that underlie the ideas, and the words, seems (to judge by actions) a secondary or tertiary consideration.  Is it any wonder that the Right Wing finds it so easy to mock this stuff, and, in so doing, to attempt to roll back the gains we’ve made for the elderly and the disabled?

So the question then is, what, exactly, is the relationship between how we use words to describe people, and the actual conditions in which they live?  Because I am the last person to say there is no relationship–I’m a writer, ferchrissakes.   To the supporter of what we call the PC movement, again, as judged by their activity, the relationship is, “first, make sure everyone uses the right terms.  Then we’ll be sure they’re thinking the right thoughts.  After that, conditions will change.”

To me, this is backward.   Being determines consciousness.   Ideas change as part of the fight to change conditions.  As ideas change, so the language will change to reflect it.  “Garbageman” became “sanitation worker” as part of the fight for acceptable wages and working conditions, not separate from that fight, and certainly not in place of it.  A part of the effort to unite the working class, after all, involves a tireless battle against all forms of ignorance, most especially including bigotry.   This battle isn’t fought by lecturing workers on the use of derogatory terms, but by showing that the fight involves all workers, and that bigotry only serves the interest of the class enemy.

The South St. Paul packing house strike of ’46  is only one example of this: A fight for decent living standards became a fight for the union, and prejudices (sexual, racial and especially national–the area was full of Eastern European immigrants who all hated each other) vanished in fighting strikebreakers, scabs, and cops–vanished to the point where today, 70 years later, you can still see the effects in those old South St. Paul neighborhoods.   The words “kike” and “spic” aren’t much used in those neighborhoods, and that isn’t because someone explained to them that it was demeaning to Jews and Hispanics; they learned solidarity in battle, and those lessons stay with you.

The fight against bigotry, oppression, intolerance, is a part of the fight against capitalism.  Being “politically correct,” then, means to substitute the idea for the thing, and the word for the idea; thus it helps perpetuate the illusion that these problems can be solved under capitalism, and thus, in the last analysis, it  supports the substance of oppression, if not the words that accompany it.

ETA: I changed “handicapped” to “disabled” in this post, in accordance with a comment by my sister.  Is that being “politically correct?”  I dunno.  But I’m good with it.