The Ones That Stick With Us

There is no reliable connection between a writer’s skill and popularity. I mean, I wish there were; it would make things easier. But just when you’re ready to point to writers like [REDACTED] and say, “See? If you’re popular, you suck,” you run into a Gaiman or a Martin and go, “Uh, well, okay, sometimes they’re popular on account of being really good.” The reverse case requires no special proof: especially with the increase in self-publishing, there is no shortage of writers who richly deserve their obscurity.

But then there are the frustrating cases, the ones where we want to grab the entire reading public by the lapels, shake them, and say, “Why haven’t you read this, you lunatic?” These writers can make us think we’re in a secret cabal, we are the ones who know. When we throw out the names of books or authors to someone we’ve just met at a convention, and the person says, War For the Oaks, our eyes get big, and we squee and say something that comes down to, “Oh, you too are initiated into the Secret?”

I use Emma Bull’s work as an example because her books are a classic case: known to so few it frustrates us. But those few love them with an intensity that seems to make up for the lack of popularity, like there’s some sort of law of Conservation of Squee. No, there is no such law (cf Martin & Gaiman), but it sometimes it seems like it—the fewer who know, the more intense the love and the deeper and more lasting and more powerful the effect.

If there were such a law, it would explain Pamela Dean. Even fewer people have heard of her than of Emma, a fact which constantly makes us grind our teeth (Emma’s teeth included, and yes, Emma, I am revealing things about your teeth), but those few! They meet in secret, and, when no one’s around, they say, “Tam Lin.” “I know! Just…” “Yeah. Wow.” And then they talk about Juniper and Gentian and Rosemary, or The Dubious Hills, or The Secret Country Trilogy, in hushed voices, as if for fear of scaring away the magic.

I am mentioning this now because, thanks to self-publishing, her work is becoming more available. Older, out of print works, and previously unpublished works are or will soon be for sale via print on demand or as e-books.

I am mentioning this because I would like all of you to be a part of the secret cabal whose lives have been changed.

The website is here. Do yourself a favor, and become part of the secret. Maybe it won’t be so secret any more, and we’d all like that very much.

Fifty Ways to Write a Fight Scene

For those of you not familiar with the work of Paul Simon, sorry, you’ll just have to guess at the tune.  For the rest of you, here it is:

Fifty Ways to Write a Fight Scene

The problem’s all in point of view as like as not,
She said if exposition isn’t slowing down your plot.
I’d like to help you now we’ve found the trouble spot
There must be fifty ways to write a fight scene.

She said, It’s really not my habit to critique
Furthermore I hope you know that I don’t think your prose is weak.
But I’ll repeat myself at the risk of seeming geek:
There must be fifty ways to write a fight scene.
Fifty ways to write a fight scene.

Use summary, Lee
Focus on the skill, Jill
Consciousness stream, Liam,
Move the story along.

Talk about the pain, Jane
Just say who was slain plain
Dwell on blood, Bud
You can’t go wrong.

She said it grieves me so to see a story fail.
I wish there was a way to help you get it back on trail.
I said I appreciate that, and could you speak in some detail
About the fifty ways.

She said why don’t we both just focus on the text,
And I believe after an edit you will be less perplexed.
Then she red-penned me and I realized that she was quite correct
There must be fifty ways to write a fight scene.
Fifty ways to write a fight scene.

Use summary, Lee
Focus on the skill, Jill
Consciousness stream, Liam,
Move the story along.

Talk about the pain, Jane
Just say who slain plain
Dwell on blood, Bud
You can’t go wrong.

Baltimore, The Nation, The Wire

Following a link on Making Light, I just read this piece from The Nation. It brings up a number of interesting questions about police violence, about art in general and The Wire in particular, and about The Nation.

Before I get into what I think is the main point of the essay I want to discuss something that appears early in the article. Dave Zirin, the author of the essay, is speaking of how Baltimore residents he knows feel about The Wire, and relates being told that, “living in Baltimore was a struggle and the idea of anyone making commerce out of their pain was simply not their idea of entertainment.”

This is a very telling remark. It relates closely to much that I’ve heard about “cultural appropriation.” Let us perform a thought experiment: take “commerce” out of the sentence I quoted above and replace it with “art.” At this point, it seems to me that any reasonable person would have an attitude something like, “Well, that depends how good and how honest the art is.” It now becomes clear that the issue is commerce. We are all aware of the multi-billion-dollar entertainment industry, and the idea of human misery being exploited to increase their profits naturally turns our stomachs. But there is the corporation, and there is the writer; the conglomerate and the artist. They work together, they are in conflict, they need each other, they battle each other. So long as we live in a capitalist society, artists cannot, in general, create their art unless they are paid for it (to be sure, there are exceptions, but none of these exceptions are on major television networks).

My point is this: artistic problems with depictions of exploitation in art are about honesty, integrity, sensitivity, and technique: how effectively are you telling the truth? Moral problems with depictions of exploitation in art are a problem of capitalism. If you remove the profit motive  you also remove the moral issue.  Of course, it needs to be stated  that the only way to remove the profit motive is to destroy capitalism, which would likewise remove any reason for those conditions to exist in the first place.  I hope we can all agree that the existence of poverty and oppression is a far bigger problem than if and how it is depicted! Those who object loudest to “cultural appropriation” are those who accept capitalism as permanent, and thus consider the inhuman conditions caused by capitalism to be unalterable.

Let’s move on.  The thrust of the article is that there are two flaws in the TV show The Wire that seriously undermine its value in the eyes of Mr. Zirin: that it understates the level of police violence, and that its central focus is on how individuals are crushed by systems while it ignores “grassroots organizations who have, in a state of MSM invisibility, been building movements for years to fight poverty, end street violence, and challenge police brutality.”  Let us consider the first of these points.

In the article, Mr. Zirin observes that the police in Baltimore are, in fact, far worse than depicted on The Wire. I’m glad to know Mr. Zirin is finally aware of this, though it makes me wonder just where he’s been hiding until now. And yet, the central issue is this: a major television show depicted police violence, not as an aberration, but as part of a system. And did so with good writing, sympathetic characters (brilliantly played by some amazing actors), and genuine heart. Certainly, it would have been better if it had been more honest–if the innate viciousness inherent in the need to constantly terrorize and oppress those who have been discarded by capitalism had been even more highlighted. But there is no understanding of history or art without context, and a critical evaluation of The Wire needs to begin, in my opinion, by recognizing that this is the first time there has appeared on US television a program showing the police that didn’t simply assume they–or, at any rate, the majority of them–were heroes whom all ought to respect and admire, even if there is, here and there, a “bad apple.”

But the second point is more significant, and cuts to the heart of the matter.  In speaking of his “grassroots organizations” he says, “But when bureaucracies battle social movements, the results can be quite different.” At this point, I want to ask the author just what movements he has in mind and what those movements have accomplished lately? If these social movements are doing so well, Mr. Zirin, what led to the explosion of protests–some of them violent–that caused your epiphany?

“Why were those fighting for a better Baltimore invisible to David Simon? …those fighting for their own liberation? Why was The Wire big on failed saviors and short on those trying to save themselves?”

It is valid to ask that of Mr. Simon, and in my opinion the answer has to do with his own limitations: he cannot see beyond  capitalism, and thus can see no way forward for the “human refuse” capitalism produces.  In my opinion, it is very much to his credit that he shows them, and shows them as human beings, rather than stereotypes.

But I would also like to address the same question to Mr. Zirin.  Why have there been no effective mass movements against police violence, unemployment, grinding poverty?  When he refers to “social movements” it is vague.  And that is exactly the point.  He seems to be speaking of some sort of, “people getting together to do something,” without a particular purpose, direction, program. This is important: what first brings people together in opposition to cruelty and injustice might be anger, desperation, the desire for justice.  But those feelings, powerful as they are, never last beyond the short-term.  What holds a movement together long enough to accomplish change is it’s program; and when there is no program, there is nothing to hold a movement together.  Under those conditions, what does the movement do?  Sometimes it dissipates into apathy.  Sometimes it explodes into justified but unproductive violence.  Sometimes it is swallowed up by an organization that can make the right-sounding noises and actually has a program in place–such as the Democratic Party.

There have been many such movements in the past, and they have all led to the same place: back into the safe, non-threatening waters of the two major parties of big business.    Why have there been no effective movements of the oppressed in recent years?  The answer to that question is: so far, those “fighting for their own salvation” have been stuck in protest politics and identity politics and efforts to pressure the Democratic Party. It is no accident that this essay appears in The Nation–a magazine that epitomizes exactly that: the drive to harness and control the legitimate outrage of the most conscious elements of the oppressed and divert it harmlessly into the left wing of the Democratic Party. That is exactly The Nation’s agenda. And the results? Is Mr. Zirin aware that Baltimore is controlled by Democratic Party politicians? That the mayor is African-American?  That more than 40% of the Baltimore police force is African American, including the Commissioner and the Deputy Commissioner? That is the result of his “social movements.” How has that worked out for you, Baltimore?

Here the ultimate cynicism of this essay is revealed: He asks why “social movements” are ignored by The Wire. The answer is because they have had no effect, and that is because, hitherto, these movements have been led into a dead end because of exactly the sort of politics Mr. Zirin is advocating: the empty, formless, content-free “social movement.”  And, like all pseduo-left radicals, the working class–the one force in contemporary society that is actually capable of effectively fighting the attacks of capital–appears nowhere in his essay or his perspective.  Like all of those who are frightened for their middle-class positions, nothing terrifies him as much as a working class that is fighting independently of the capitalist parties.   Today as the working class is becoming more angry by the day, and are showing signs of beginning to organize, the desperation of forces like Zirin and The Nation to do anything, anything to keep the rage of the oppressed safely confined within capitalist channels becomes almost palpable.

The problems of Baltimore–of police violence–will not be solved by “social movements” in the abstract–but by united action of the working class and the oppressed following a program that rejects the two parties of big business. The oppressed have no way forward today except by organizing and uniting under a socialist program. And among those who have to be fought are those who would lie and mislead us, with The Nation at the top of that list.

Haven’t Had a Good Fight in Ages

So here are some things to fight about:

1. Failing to make the distinction between sexism and misogyny is as unscientific as failing to make the distinction between authoritarianism and fascism.  Precision is important–if we actually want to solve the problem.

2. There is a certain disgust-inspiring smugness that goes with some flavors of agnosticism.  Yeah, sure, if you want to say, “I don’t know the answer, therefore neither do you,” then feel free; but not knowing something is a pretty silly thing to be proud of.  Agnosticism is a very specific epistemological position, and one that I think is wrong.  We can talk about why I think that when you lose your attitude.

3. Speaking of atheism, the fact that some atheists use their belief as an excuse for anti-Muslim bigotry says as little about atheism as the fact that some Christians use their belief as an excuse for homophobia says about Christianity.

I’m on a roll.

4. One more on religion (because if you can’t get into an argument about religion, you just aren’t trying): As an atheist–a materialist–I believe that the history of religious thought is as much a valid subject for scientific investigation as anything else in nature or society.  Indeed, I’ll go so far as to say that only as a materialist can one actually understand the development of human thought, religious or otherwise.  Point being, the atheist who simply condemns religion as an evil without paying any attention to how it developed, to its complex and often contradictory role throughout human history, to how it emerged from and then in turn influenced the society that produced it, is being profoundly unscientific.

5. Concerning literature, I believe two contradictory things: 1) People can enjoy reading whatever they want, and ought not to be judged for it–if you say, “that book is horrible and you shouldn’t have liked it,” you’re just being an ass.  2) One important part of improving our field is to be sharply critical; if we don’t recognize what’s bad, how are we going to get better?  It seems like these two positions ought not to contradict each other, but in practice it always seems like they do.  ETA: This is apart from the content, especially in a moral sense, which is a whole different conversation.

6. Obama supporters keep pointing at things Obama has done that Republicans would have supported if Bush had done them.  And they’re absolutely right; there is a lot of that going on.  They seem to be missing the fact that they attacked Bush for doing the same things Obama is doing.

7. Expanding on something I said a while ago on Facebook: There is a difference between the prejudice felt by an oppressed people, and the prejudice felt by oppressing people.  Lenin spoke of the difference between the nationalism of the oppressor, and the nationalism of the oppressed. To just toss it away with, “prejudice = prejudice” is wrong-headed.  In the real world, A is never equal to A.  The history and experience of oppression makes a difference.  If you find yourself saying, “Black people say….” you are being a racist, an asshole, and an idiot.  If you find yourself saying, “White people say,” you are just being an idiot.

8. Last but not least, something we can all fight about: driving.  People who have the attitude, “I can drive in the left lane all I want as long as I’m going the speed limit,” are jerks.  People who have the attitude, “I should be able to go as fast as I want in the left lane no matter what else traffic is doing and if you’re going slower than I want I’m within my rights to tailgate you and flip you off as I zoom by on the right,” are jerks.  Both fail to realize that driving is a cooperative endeavor, and the more we all work together, the safer and more pleasant it will be.  It’s kind of like life.

 

Reviews and Criticism: Some Things to Think About

This post is aimed at writers.  As we in the science fiction community deal with some ugliness that has taken a quasi-political form and had a powerful negative effect on many writers, here are some things you may want to consider.

I will sometimes read reviews of my work. I will go to Amazon and click the 5-star ones, and read others that are full of lavish praise. I do this because sometimes I need cheering up–I need to remind myself, “Yeah, I can do this.”  I mean, in my more cynical moments I believe that the way to tell if you’re a “real writer” is that you sometimes think you’re not a real writer.  It’s good to have ways of pulling yourself out of that, especially if it has a bad effect on the quantity or quality of your work; if you’re lucky enough to have reviews out there that will help you do that, hey, what the hell.

With a few exceptions, I do not read negative reviews of my work, or even pay attention to the negative comments (“My only complaint is….”) within a positive review.  The book is done.  Moreover, if there is something someone hates about it, it is a gimme that it is the same thing that someone else likes, so I’m not “learning” anything from it.  I have a list of people for whom I have a great deal of respect, and to whom I listen when they speak about what needs improvement, either in a particular work or in my writing in general; nothing good can come of listening to anyone else.  The exceptions, with reviewers, are people who, over the years, I have determined are smart, perceptive, know what I’m trying to do, and can articulate where I failed to do it (yes, Jo, I’m looking at you).  These reviews can, in fact, give me useful information.

I can see you nodding along with me.  Good.  We agree.  I’m glad to hear it.

Now consider, for a moment, reviews or criticism that call you, for example,  a racist, because you didn’t include anyone of some particular race, or you did but someone thinks you were stereotyping, or being insensitive, or whatever.  These comments are every bit as legitimate, in my opinion, as any other sort of criticism, and deserve exactly the same consideration.  To wit: if you’re getting the comment from someone you know and trust, take it the way you would any other comment, give it due consideration, and decide.

I mention this because one of the things I see going on around me, is that reviews and criticism that focus on these things are treated as if these comments are special–particularly if aspects of the personal identity of the reviewer (race, sex, disability, sexual preference, &c) is a factor in the review.

I beg to submit that these sorts of reviews are no different from others, and deserve no special status.  If it is coming from a reviewer or critic you trust, then it should get the same consideration as any other sort of criticism; and if it is not, by making an exception, you are, in my opinion, doing yourself and your writing no good whatsoever, and are granting people you have no reason to trust, far, far too much power over the work you produce.