Posts by Cheryll Barron

How does a partisan press mislead the public and distort an election? Watch this conversation between Cenk Uygur and Bernie Sanders on The Young Turks

Bernie Sanders being interviewed about corporate media's partisan distortions of the truth by Cenk Uygur on The Young Turks, 23 March 2016

Bernie Sanders being interviewed about corporate media’s partisan distortions of the truth by Cenk Uygur on The Young Turks, 23 March 2016

Partisan press = blinkered vision + distorted facts Reichenau Island, 2011, by postgutenberg@gmail.com -- Originally posted on this blog on 5 May 2013

Partisan press = blinkered vision + distorted facts
Reichenau Island, 2011, by postgutenberg@gmail.com
— Originally posted on this blog on 5 May 2013

 

Weakening the capacity of the proudly partisan old media establishment to undermine democracy has been one of this blog’s causes from the start. In 2013, we collected a few of our posts about the evils of a blinkered — and blinkering — partisan press in one entry in post-Gutenberg.com during a British debate on the subject:

How Lord Justice #Leveson let down everyone who cares about the practice of journalism ‘without fear or favour’

We do not have a vote in U.S. elections. But, following the drama as closely as we can — like anyone anywhere on the globe not buried in a cave with abysmal wifi reception — we were delighted by the proof, in a superb half-hour interview, of exactly how influential old media are warping their depictions of Bernie Sanders and his campaign:

for  27. 3. 2016

photographs, 27 April 2015, postgutenberg[at]gmail.com

photographs, 27 April 2015, postgutenberg[at]gmail.com

+jackrabbit LEAPING DETAIL Cheryll Barron postgutenberg@gmail.com (1)

 Y    R

Don’t be ridiculous, you say — who ever heard of an Easter jackrabbit? It doesn’t even look right!

Here is proof of how suspicious we must all be about some of our most ancient presumptions. The first and true Easter hopabout in the ancient symbolism was a hare, not a rabbit at all, or certainly not a Beatrix Potter-ish flopsy bunny.  So also — technically — is the Lepus californicus or black-tailed jackrabbit. Last April, we discovered we were virtually cohabiting with a member of this tribe — being closely monitored round the clock by it, indeed, in a comradely, affectionate sort of way, during a wilderness break of about a fortnight.

This jackrabbit knew which room of our stick abode we were in, and in exactly which window we sat writing. Its species is renowned for its acute hearing, which must have something to do with those giant ears proportionately bigger than any other mammal’s on earth.

Whereas rabbits are born with eyes shut, hares drop from their mothers with theirs wide open.

For none of those reasons, but another, we feel a close kinship with these silent, hyper-energetic wild beasts sometimes indistinguishable from lava rocks of their size in their habitat, until they leap. Post-Gutenberg scribbles most efficiently long into the night. That is when the nocturnal jackrabbit forages and nibbles — although our trails have also crossed by daylight, especially in the late afternoon and early evening.

We have learnt from an irresistible summary on rabbit.org (yes, there is such a thing) of  ‘The Easter Hare’ by Katharine Hillard, published in The Atlantic Monthly in May 1890, that despite Easter Sunday’s closeness in years like this one to the vernal equinox, its date moves from year to year for reasons only indirectly related to that day, and that it is more accurate to think of it as a lunar, not solar, celebration. It is calculated in relation to both the equinox and the first full moon after it.

Part of the proof of the origins of this Germanic tradition happens to be in Sanskrit.

From rabbit.org, again:

Easter is not really a solar festival, but rather one of the moon. The name Easter comes to us from the Saxon Eostre (synonymous with the phoenician Astarte), goddess of the moon. From the most ancient times, this goddess was the measurer of time. Her name as we know it (moon) comes from the Sanskrit mas—from ma, to measure— and was masculine (as it was in all the Teutonic languages).

No matter how closely we inspect these pictures and a few others in our jackrabbit collection, we never come to a conclusion about whether our rabbit is a he or she. Looking up links between hares and Easter, we found that there is good reason for this in the symbolism. The ancients, ‘Pliny, Plutarch, Philostratus, and Aelian,’ believed that hares were hermaphrodites, or …

… that a rabbit could change its sex—like the moon. Other stories in Sanskrit and Hindu[sic] connect the rabbit to the spots on the moon (related to the story above); to stories of hares dwelling upon the shores of the moon; and as mortal enemy of the lion (sun).

Gender hopping is an experience post-Gutenberg has only ever sampled in commenting pseudonymously on the net, or in sock-puppetry — two kinds of masks that we warmly recommend you try, too, dear reader.

In fact, if you try them out today or on Easter Monday, you will correctly be interpreting the pagan, pre-Christian message linked to hares at this time of year as: be fruitful and multiply … yourself.

Which would surely entitle you to at least one more hare-borne chocolate egg.

+jackrabbit LEAPING Cheryll Barron postgutenberg@gmail.com

Private Eye’s almost unbearably brilliant Libor for Dummies business model for the future of book publishing

Cover of the autumn 2015 Bulletin of the American Authors Guild: ‘Should Writers Be Performers?’ -- Cover artist: Kevin Sanchez Walsh, kswradiographic@gmail.com

Cover of the autumn 2015 Bulletin of the American Authors Guild: ‘Should Writers Be Performers?’
— Cover artist: Kevin Sanchez Walsh, kswradiographic [at] gmail.com

For months — as much as a year, perhaps — we have seen no new ideas for economic structures for post-Gutenberg publishing, the turn-of-the-decade preoccupation of many an anxious scribe, and the topic that launched this blog. Then we read the dire news of a ‘business model’ that a well-known large publisher has begun to offer authors. Fittingly, this was in a masterpiece of sardonic rage in the Books and Bookmen column of a satirical magazine, Private Eye (No: 1412; 19, February 2016). We will spare our readers the chore of looking up the Latin derivations of ‘libor’ – from libare or ‘sacrifice,’ or liborius, ‘free’, according to the Wikipedia. (But do scroll down this blog entry** to note the most interesting overlap with one Latin word for book — not codex, of course.)

BOOKS and BOOKMEN

With the vast majority of published authors earning below the minimum wage, one major publisher has found a way to give them even less — and indeed land them with a five-figure bill, in a scheme that owes more to vanity publishing than to the normal commercial author/publisher relationship.

Publisher John Wiley, which issues the popular ‘… For Dummies’ series, is telling writers its ‘business model has changed over recent months’. Out goes the advance on royalties. In comes an author commitment, ‘at the outset’, to buy ‘a minimum quantity of approximately 1,500-2,000 copies over the course of a three-year period’. For 2,000 books, even with an author discount, this adds up to nearly £13,600.

And out goes the writer looking to the publisher to help promote the title. In comes ‘author commitment in terms of promotion of the book at speaking engagements and training events’. This means the writers selling their own books, or as Wiley puts it, ‘purchasing discounted copies for events/business use/training courses to make our products viable’. An author selling 2,000 copies would make £19,200 — less costs involved in the ‘events’.

No mention of the cost of researching and writing the book, or the fact that some authors aren’t physically able to be travelling sales reps. These requirements will mean that most authors can only afford to write if an employer sponsors them with time, event organisation and the cost of buying their own books.

Take the (imaginary) Libor for Dummies. It would be hard to find an independent author with the ability or money to follow Wiley’s new business model. But there are plenty of bankers who could write this title from their employer’s point of view, and promote it with the bank picking up all the tabs. Which would make the book financially viable — and simultaneously worthless.

At last someone with a powerful megaphone has spoken out about the absurdity of trying to turn all scribblers into salespeople, on social media or anywhere else. Roxana Robinson, the president of the Authors Guild in New York — and author of a sensitive and perceptive biography of the painter Georgia O’Keeffe, for which we were long ago proud to make room on our shelves — is pointing out what we did in an early entry in this blog, when practically no one was publicly challenging the near-universal conviction that writers have no alternative to morphing into performing fleas. It has been one of our most popular posts — without having any discernible effect, so far:

How would introverts like Beckett — and Wittgenstein, Kafka and P.G. Wodehouse — have survived social media?

This is part of what the Authors Guild leader said on virtually the identical subject a few months ago:

Promotion is the opposite of writing. It’s depleting. And this kind of ‘creative’ promotion, is an act of desperation.

You can’t be a writer while you are onstage, answering questions. The only place where you can be a writer is alone with your mind, answering the questions that come from yourself, the ones you can reconsider, shift and re-phrase, until you find yourself heading out alone into the ranges you want to explore. Most writers are not performance artists. When we’re in public, we’re not writing. When we’re writing, we’re not in public.

Moreover, if you’re not well-known, none of these strategies of self-promotion is useful. No one will pay money to see an unknown writer.

… It might be better if the publishing houses let writers do what they’re good at, which is writing, and if they did what they’re good at, which is editing and producing and promoting, the books they have bought, believe in and support.

That’s called division of labor, and in the world of economics, it’s quite highly thought of.

If only writers could go on strike …

** From a lively discussion on Reddit:

Liber with a short i (pronounced like: li – ber) means “a book” and declines liber, libri, libro, librum, libro. Liber with a long i (pronounced like: lee – ber) as a noun means “a free person; children of a family” and declines liber, liberi, libero, liberum, libero.