Category: Life

  • On The Road Part Two

    A quick follow-up to my abbreviated MadCon report just past.  Harlan Ellison arrived at the hotel Thursday evening, around eight o’clock.  Only a few of us were in the lobby.  Allen Steele, Peter David, Donna, and myself.  Peter David’s wife Kathleen and their daughter (who Harlan “terrorized” to our surprise and her later delight).  From that point on it became a really good experience.  All the rumors that had been floating around about Harlan’s imminent demise proved exaggerated.  Though he didn’t look his best—clearly he has been ailing—and he arrived wearing a sweatshirt and pajama bottoms (Pierre Cardin, as he repeatedly joked, since he wore them all weekend), as the weekend progressed he came more and more alive.

    I have a couple of photographs of Harlan.  I will not post them.  Harlan has developed a deep antagonism toward the on-line postings that pass for “news” on the internet.  He loathes the practice of recording and uploading on the spot.  Someday, maybe.  The pictures are for Donna and me.

    But I do have a shot—a bit blurry, not great—of one of my panels.

    panel.jpg

    From left to right, that is  Gene Wolfe, John Krewson (of the Onion), Allen Steele, and Yours Truly.  I believe this was the panel on how we all got into writing science fiction in the first place.  Or just writing.

    Saturday morning Donna and I drove down to the capitol, downtown Madison, for their semi-legendary farmers market.  It was brisk, but a bright, lovely morning, and we walked around among all the vendors.  I have a couple of shots from that, but not yet ready to post.  They will likely end up in my Zenfolio portfolio.

    On the way home, however, we stopped a couple times to take shots of the sunrise.  We left the hotel at 4:15 AM and drove south into a wonderful morning.  At one of the first rest stops, I shot this.

    trucks-at-sunrise.jpg

    Not the greatest work of art ever produced, but there are elements of it I quite like.  I may work on it further.

    Anyway, it was a fine trip, in the best company.  Maybe I’ll say more.  Later.

    Or maybe not.

  • On The Road

    Tomorrow morning, probably before the sun is up, we will be on the road to Madison, Wisconsin.  We’re going to attend a little convention called MadCon 2010.  When you click on the link you will see a note explaining that the guest of honor, Harlan Ellison, will not, due to illness, make it.  Well, that’s changed, apparently.  Harlan says he is feeling up to it and will be getting on a plane tomorrow and will appear.

    Last time we saw Harlan was in 1999, at a convention called Readercon (which is a genuinely spiffy excellent convention because it is ALL ABOUT BOOKS—no movies, no anime, no costumes, none of that, just BOOKS) and he was in great form and we had a marvelous time.

    By a series of odd coincidences, about two years ago, I became better acquainted with Harlan.  We’ve spoken on the phone and written to each other a few times and while it would be the height of hubris for me to claim that we are friends, we are at least on first name friendly terms.  (It’s funny how, with certain people, sometimes you seem to have to “save up” stuff to talk about before calling them, because what you very much want not to do is bore them.  I’ve never quite known how to recognize the point past which that concern no longer matters.)  I wrote a piece about the documentary, Dreams With Sharp Teeth, both for this blog and cross-posted to Dangerous Intersection.  I was impressed with the film and have always been impressed by its subject, so I took a few minutes to alert others to its existence.

    Much to my dismay, Harlan got word to me that he had seen it and wanted to thank me personally.  I called him, we talked, we’ve conversed on occasion since.  I’ve been looking forward to this trip for over a year.

    Naturally, when word came down that he might not make it, we were bummed, but still intent on going.  The news today is heartening, to say the least.  I will write about it when I get back.

    I’m doing some panels at the convention, a couple of them with a good friend, Allen Steele, with whom I’ve done far too few panels since we met way back in the early 90s.  Others will be there that I look forward to seeing again or meeting for the first time.  (The estimable and excellent Gene Wolfe will be there.)  But even so, I’m going as a fan.  Harlan’s work has meant a very great deal to me.  He is unique.  Worth a read, to be sure.

    So till next week sometime…adieu.

  • Didn’t They Throw The Tea In The Harbor…?

    Christine O’Donnell is one of those public figures that emerge from time to time that make any writer of fiction envious of reality.  Only a truly gifted writer could make someone like this up and then sell her as a plausible character.

    At the heart of it, she is the problem with the Tea Party.

    Here’s the thing I’ve never understood about the far right: fiscal responsibility is well and good and certainly we could do with a lot more—we could have used some for the last thirty years, certainly, a period during which Republicans (and by inference conservatives) have been largely in control of Congress—but how come is it we can’t seem to get candidates who are just about that without dragging all the social issue crap along with them?  I for one am tiring of having my alternatives clipped because some whack-a-do who may well have a sound fiscal policy in mind is also hell bent on “correcting” the lax, immoral, godless state of the country.

    Now we get right down to the basic issues with Ms. O’Donnell: jacking off.  It’s destroying the country.  People are going blind from this, divorce rates are record high because selfish people are doing themselves at the expense of the shared relationship god intended they have.  Abstinence means all of it!  Tie those peoples’ hands behind their backs!  Put those genital safety belts on those young fellows who can’t leave johnny alone!  Why, if we root out the evil of self-pleasuring, we’ll be on the road to sound financial policy and security in no time!

    Then of course there’s the usual slate of absurdities—she’s a young earth creationist.  (What, may I ask, does this have to do with fiscal conservatism?  Well, in her case, apparently, a difficulty with basic math…)  Naturally she opposes abortion and since she’s so down on pud pounding, we may presume she hasn’t much use for birth control of any kind, sex education, or possible female orgasm.

    She is that perfect contradiction of modern far right womanhood—someone who probably thinks women’s place is in the home who is attempting to establish a powerful political career in order to legislate herself back into a state of chattel bondage.

    And then there’s the Libertarian wing of the Tea Party that basically believes people ought to be free to choose their own lives without interference from anyone, especially the government, and eventually they will create the fissure in opposition to the Talibaptist contingent who want more than anything to tell people how to live decent lives.

    It may do this country good to elect some of these folks into public office so we can see, really see how they perform.  How they make their philosophies mesh with what most Americans really want.

    It’s a sad time for American politics.  We’re in a depression (why they insist on continuing to call it a recession is purist political cynicism), Obama has not miraculously fixed that, and people are pissed off.  They are in a “Throw the bastards out” mood, but unfortunately they have little to choose from.  The Republican Party, self-deluded that they may ride this tide back into power for “all the right reasons”, has so bankrupted its credibility right before, during, and since W that even conservatives must hold their noses to vote for them.  The Democrats have failed once again to define an American Ideology behind which the people can get and although right now they are probably on the right track fiscally, it will take time for their actions to result in anything fruitful.  (Didn’t Obama say all along it would take a long time?  Didn’t he say this would not be painless?  Didn’t he say a lot of work would have to be done before things started drifting back to something good?  Didn’t he?  But he’s been in office 19 months!  My god, just how long is a long time?)  They haven’t “fixed things” so people don’t like them either.

    So there’s the Tea Party.  This is bottom of the barrel time.  These are the screeling, apocalyptic, neo-revisionist, founding-principled-though-illiterate gang of conspiracy theorist candidates who have gained momentum through sheer quality of nerve, who intend to save the country from our foreign-born Muslim president and the anarcho-socialist intellectual elite.  They are the ones who wish to remove all the interfering laws and restrictions that hamper the marrow-deep entrepreneurial American essence and allow people to make millions on their own or starve in the gutter with their families because while Darwin was wrong about biology he was right about economic policy and the weak ought to perish so the strong can dominate.  These are the folks who would free us to be dominated by Big Oil, Big Pharma, Big Banking, and Big Insurance.  These are people who believe corporations are people, too, and back the American dream nurtured in the heart of every kid who wants to grow up to be a corporation.  Or an oligarch.

    But first, they have to curtail masturbation.  The country has had enough of people jacking off.  Time to get them back to work.

  • ConText

    Returned home yesterday, around two P.M.  Scads of emails in the hopper, mail in the box, laundry to do, a dog to pet.

    I had a good time at ConText.  The Doubletree where it was held was in a a kind of commercial court with several good restaurants and a multiplex movie theater (which I did not go to).  It was a smallish con with some good guests (Toby Buckell, Lucy Snyder, Paul Melko) and a decent program track.  More about the books than many cons with which I’ve become familiar, which is refreshing.

    Diana Dru Botsford, who serves on the Missouri Center for the Book with me, was able to premier her first novel at the convention.  Four Dragons, a Stargate SG-1 novel.  Watching her, I was envious.  The excitement of having your first novel out is unlike anything else.

    I was able to link up with my good friend Tim Esaias.  He taught workshops almost all weekend, so we didn’t visit as much as I’d liked, but it’s always good to see Tim.  We now have something that I do not believe previously existed—a picture together.

    tim-me.jpg

    I’ve known Tim now for…23 years, I suppose.  He very early on encouraged me to continue writing.  He’s been a solid critic, a good editor, and a terrific friend.  He’s teaching now himself, at Seton Hill in Pennsylvania.  Diana was one of his students.

    Tim is one of the Good Ones.  Those who know him understand what I mean.  Occasionally such people should be acknowledged.  Tim helped me.  Effectively.

    Enough of that, now.  Time to go back to work.

  • Hitch

    As I mentioned in my previous post, Christopher Hitchens has esophageal cancer.  He is undergoing chemotherapy.  His prognosis is not good, as this is a particularly nasty form of cancer with a low survival rate.

    It turns out that many people are praying for his recovery, which I find ironic but wonderful.  This is, I’ve been told, what true christianity is supposed to be like—extending the benevolence of your faith to those who might qualify as an enemy.  If only all christians were like that.  If only those who are like that were the loudest voices.

    Unfortunately, the screaming meme misanthropic anti-intellectual pre-Enlightenment ignoramus branch of the movement tends to dominate a lot of the discourse, from the supporters of Proposition 8 to those who are not only praying for Hitch to die, but are sending notice of such prayers to public fora and putting megaphone to mouth so as many people as they can blast with their message will hear.

    I will let Jeffrey Goldberg, correspondent for The Atlantic, express it for me.  He summed my feelings up quite nicely here.

    I know many christians who find their uncouth brethren-in-name an embarrassment.  When they say that “we’re not all like that” they tell the truth.  It is my personal opinion that they would “not be like that” whether they believed in god or nothing, that decency has no denomination and requires no supernatural support mechanism.  I agree with the sentiments of people like Hitch and Richard Dawkins that by and large most people are secular, both in their outlook and their morality, that what is considered good and decent behavior today and what is considered unsupportable have changed over time and it is the pressure of evolving cultural demands, not any new revelation, that has had the most positive effect.  The Enlightenment, wherein many if not all of the ideas of equality and human dignity and the motives for social justice and progress came into their own, was a para-religious movement, sometimes a-religious, occasionally anti-religious.  We do not, most of us, live according to biblical precepts and rules nor would we find it acceptable to do so.

    Whatever the reality, Hitch has argued that history is littered with the bodies of religion’s victims, and while it is legitimate to say that those who performed the atrocities did so outside the proper moral ground of religious feeling, it is also legitimate to argue that they in fact found justification for their actions in those same feelings and in the writings of their various faiths.

    Hitch has spoken positively about Jesus the man and has argued that whoever he was, he was ahead of his time, a great teacher, and laid down a program those who have claimed for two millennia to be his followers have in aggregate failed to live up to.  Those who are praying for Hitch to recover, to be well, are, in this moment, succeeding.  They should deny those who pray for his death the use of the sobriquet Christian.  Not in that they are not living up to the expectations of their faith—in their eyes they are—but in that they have failed to see how their faith has severed them from legitimate moral feeling.

    I do not pray.  But I wish Hitch well.  And for all those believers praying on his behalf—I wish you all well, too.

  • A Week’s Worth of Stuff

    This past week some things have moved forward which please me.  The Missouri Center for the Book is about it have a new Facebook page.  I made the decision to put it up now, in advance of the total website make-over, because I think it will be necessary to get the upcoming Celebration promoted more efficiently.  That event will be October 23rd, again in Columbia.  Barring other avenues of advertising, I think this one will be essential.

    It’s happening.  Also, the new website design is coming along quickly and when that is up there will be regular blog posts, and a special section from the state poet laureate.  When that happens, obviously, I’ll post about it here.

    On a personal front, I’ve gotten the preliminary schedule from Context in Columbus OH and they’ve put me on at least three panels and given me a kaffeeklatsch.  The latter will be interesting.  I’ve done a couple of these, but with less than amazing results.  One of these days I hope to have a dozen people show up and make me feel like a real honest-to-goodness writer type person.  But the panels look interesting.

    More short fiction.  I am forcing the hindbrain to put out.  I will do more short stories.  I’m coming to grips with an old one that almost didn’t work but now seems to be moving along nicely.

    I went to the gym Friday and had a decent work-out (650 lbs on the leg press, not too shabby for an old man) but I’m feeling a bit drained today, so I’m putting off going back till tomorrow or Tuesday.

    Although many things are still in limbo, curiously I’ve been feeling good about things this past week, like everything will work out fine.  I am not given to groundless optimism or airy prognostications.  “Oh, it will all come out fine, you’ll see,” is not a working philosophy for me.  But you can only control so much on your own.  You can do the best you can with what you have in hand and if the next step depends on Other People, well, you can’t let their lethargy, inertia, or recalcitrance depress you.  It does depress you, because, well, if they don’t do X, Y, or Z then what you want to do doesn’t move forward, but there’s not much you can do about that short of going to them personally and being persuasive.  Like that would work.

    So you shift gears and work on something else.  You enjoy a good meal.  Watch a movie, read a book, contemplate the heavens…

    cloud.jpg

    In my case, the physical heavens, as the supernatural variety holds no charm for me.

    Having said that, I note that Christopher Hitchens, earnest, sharp, intellectually stimulating transplanted Brit who lectures and debates on atheism among other things, is in dire straits.  He was diagnosed recently with esophageal cancer, a nasty form that has a low survival rate.  His father apparently died of it.  I saw him recently on an interview with Anderson Cooper and most of his hair is already gone from the chemo, but he was quite stoic and lucid.  He was asked about the possibility of a death-bed conversion and he said emphatically that as long as he was himself, no, but there’s no guarantee that he won’t be someone else if he’s too far gone in pain and medication.

    Life is what it is.  I know intellectually that it isn’t fair.  It isn’t anything pro or con in terms of justice or equality or anything else.  It is what it is.  Fairness is a concept of our invention that we bring to the enterprise.  But because it’s ours, we tend to invest it with merit and get angry when things don’t go according to an expectation we impose.

    Still, I wish him well and will regret his death.  He fearlessly pokes into the dark corners and writes about what he finds and people like that are worth more than can be assessed.

    Another mixed bag of a week, then.  Can’t wait to see what next week has in store.

  • A Moment of Celebrity Type Stuff

    A friend of mine, the estimable Erich Veith, came by my home a bit over a year ago and we recorded a long interview.  Erich has finally gotten around to editing it and has begun posting segments on YouTube.  Here’s the first one.  (I still haven’t figured out how to embed videos here, so bear with me.)

    Erich runs the website  Dangerous Intersection, where I post opinionated blatherings from time to time and Erich graciously allows me to hold forth in my own idiosyncratic manner.  Why he thought people would also enjoy watching and hearing me as well, I can’t say, but I enjoyed the process and from the looks of the first three (which are up at Dangerous Intersection) I don’t think I came off too badly.

    The one thing that has puzzled me about Erich these past few years is, where does he find the time to do what he does?  I mean, he’s a lawyer, for one thing.  He has two daughters his wife and he are raising.  He’s a musician who occasionally gigs.  And he runs this website, which is quite large and has a lot of traffic, and would seem to me to be just a lot of damn work.  If you haven’t spent some time there, do.  In my experience it’s unique and I’ve enjoyed being a small part of it.

    My thanks to Erich for the opportunity to play at celebrity just a wee bit.  I hope others enjoy the results.

  • Radio Markets and Discontent

    Personal gripe time.  This is one of those instances where I believe The Market is a hydrocephalic moron and people who put their undying faith in get what they deserve.

    Shortly after the 4th of July just past, a St. Louis radio station changed hands.  KFUO 99.1 FM had, for sixty-plus years, been our commercial classical station.  Before the first Gulf War, our local NPR affiliate, KWMU, was largely a classical music broadcaster, but after that first foray into Mid east adventurism they became pretty much All Talk All Day.  Mind you, I like some of what they offer—Fresh Air, Talk of the Nation, Diane Rheem—but I am a lover of music.  My youth, in regards to radio, was all about music.  I cannot tolerate most of Talk Radio, especially the right wing stuff, but I’m not overly fond of the left wing blatherings, either.  Give me a good solid news show twice a day and then fill the airwaves with music.

    This has become a subject of nostalgia for me, because for the most part the music scene on radio has devolved into mind-numbing banality and repetition.  Catering to The Market has the net result of leavening out at the lowest common denominator, so instead of fascinating, new, or just first-rate music, we get the cuts that will appeal to the greatest number of whatever demographic a given station thinks it’s playing to.

    After KWMU went All Talk, little by little I began listening to KFUO.  They did not do as good a job, overall, as KWMU—I am a firm believer in airing complete works, so when I am offered A Movement of a symphony or what have you I am turned off; I want the whole damn thing or don’t bother (this is also true of other genres as well: I once got into a shouting match with a DJ over his insistence of playing the three-minute version of an Emerson, Lake & Palmer track that, in its fullness, ran to twelve minutes, and he demanded to know who wanted to listen to all that synthesizer soloing, to which I replied “people who like ELP, you moron!”  Needless to say, I lost that one, but I resent the whole assumption that the attention span of people will never exceed five minutes—if you assume that and that’s all you give them, you train them to have short attention spans)—but it was classical music, and I find myself, aging that I am, more and more indulging in that genre (if genre it is) out of sheer boredom and impatience with most other forms.  At least, on the radio.

    So KFUO became my car station.  (At home I listen to albums.  I would eliminate DJs and commercials if I could.  Playing my own discs, I can.)

    Due to the demands of The Market, the impatience of shareholders, etc etc, management at KFUO—the Lutheran Church, basically—sold the station.  It is now Joy 99, playing contemporary Christian pop…stuff.

    I’ve attempted to listen to some of it, but I find it unremittingly boring.  And I am pissed.  Where can I now go on the radio to get classical music?  Well, KWMU has taken advantage of the new high definition broadcast tech to split itself into multiple channels and has one dedicated to classical music.  But I can’t get that in the car.  Can’t get it at home on my stereo, either, unless I buy new equipment, which is a source of resentment as well.  We live in an age where if one does not have the latest, most up-to-date Thingie, at a cost of X hundred dollars per widget, one cannot partake of the goodies available—and the media changes often enough that buying new Thingies is now every couple, three years.

    Pardon my expression—Fuck That!  This is the Microsoft model taken to extremes.  It is a form of class division, based on tech-savvy and money.  You don’t have to pass laws to keep the so-called Unwashed out of the Club, you just have to make sure they can’t afford the newest Thingie.

    Ahem.  Excuse me, that was paranoid of me.  I have no reason to believe this is intentional.  This is The Market, in all its lobotomized asininity.

    Back for a moment to the new KFUO.  It is boring.  (I am beginning to recognize a pattern.  Christian pop sounds somewhat-to-mainly Country.  The southern lilt to the vocals, the excessively forced emotional warbling, twisting notes through laryngeal gymnastics for no reason other than to make use of a single chord for a few moments longer.  Never mind the lyrics—I didn’t have a problem with groups like Creed, at least not initially: the music was interesting, the lyrics showed a modicum of ingenuity—just the American Idol approach to hyped emotionalism as substitute for actual content.  But I really cannot abide dull music.  Even when, initially, this stuff sounds like they’re getting down with some passion, it’s really just arrangement and playing with the compression.  The simplest chords, the over-reliance on melody—almost always in major keys—and the de-emphasizing of anything that might distract from the primary message of the lyric content.  Now, KFUO, having been a Lutheran station, played a great deal of sacred music.  Most of which was GLORIOUS.  Beautiful, sonorous, majestic, interesting!  Composed by musicians who saw no reason to muffle their strengths, but put what they had into such compositions because the music itself was a form of worship, an offering to what they believed, honest and unhampered passion.  Modern Christian rock seems to do everything it can to apologize for being rock.  Of course, there’s a reason for this, since a good deal of what these folks espouse is a typical American attitude that sensuality is an enemy to faith, and let’s face it, rock is all about sensuality.  So, too, is jazz, perhaps even more so, which may be why one hears almost no Christian jazz.)  Boring is inexcusable, I don’t care what cause it is in the name of.

    Somehow some one or more “consultant” companies told the new owners that this will attract a larger market share than what KFUO had been doing.  For all I know, they’re right.  I have little faith in the taste of the masses, as a mass.  Most of the people I have ever known as casual acquaintances have exhibited appalling taste in the arts.  You have to be aware to be sensitive to nuance, to passion, to genuine merit, and it seems that most people move through life barely conscious of their surroundings.

    (I once had the most frustrating interchange with a woman at a party who kept complaining that everything I was putting on the stereo was “depressing.”  Her word.  Depressing.  What was I playing?  Flim and the BBs, Grover Washington, McCoy Tyner, things like that.  I couldn’t figure it out until she demanded, somewhat drunkenly,”Where’s the singing?”  Unless there was singing, it was depressing.  Of course, by singing she didn’t mean opera, she meant anything she could sing along to.  This was more music as sport than art.)

    So after a couple of weeks of listening the all this strained pseudo-music sung by earnest C & W types against the most singularly undifferentiated backgrounds, I am officially peeved.    I’d like my classical music back, please.  I don’t care about demographics.  There are dozens of other stations where one can hear similarly banal  excrescence, albeit possibly without the juvenile nonsense worship lyrics.  KFUO served an audience that is now not served at all, and I can’t help wondering if this is at least partly propagandistic.  That this is as much an effort to force a single voice onto the airwaves, driving out the specialist, minority voices, as it is to maximize returns on investment.

    Of course, that would be a bit paranoid, wouldn’t it?

    Except that over forty years of listening to radio I can’t help but notice that every instance of a station or a show that reached a bit higher, took a chance on quality, played the unexpected or occasionally controversial—all those stations were, one by one, taken over and dragged back down into the stew pot of “popular taste” at expense of anything genuinely challenging or interesting.  Regardless of genre.  Mediocrity is the hallmark of the largest market share.

    Have a good weekend.

  • Mel Gibson and Other Musings

    So Mel Gibson has been exposed (once again) as an intolerant, sexist, abusive person.  A recording of a phone conversation with his former girlfriend is now Out There on the internet and one can listen to Mel spill molten verbiage into her earpiece while she calmly refutes his charges.

    All I can wonder is,  So what?

    What business is this of ours?  This is private stuff.  People lose control.  Between each other, with strangers, but more often with those closest, people have moments when the mouth ill-advisedly opens and vileness falls out.  The question is, does this define us?  Are we, in fact, only to be defined by our worst moments?

    That would seem to be the case for people like Gibson.  The reason, I think, is that for most of us, the Mel Gibsons of the world have no business having shitty days and acting like this.  For most of us, there is just cause for having these kinds of days and attitudes, because for most of us the world is not our oyster and we do not have the luxury of squandering time, friends, and money.  Mel Gibson is wealthy and famous and, at one time, admired.  He ate at the best restaurants, appeared on television, gave interviews, has his picture on the covers of magazines.  Is seen with other people, regularly, who fall into that category of Those Who Have It Made.

    They aren’t supposed to have bad days.  They aren’t supposed to be shitty to their lovers.  They aren’t supposed to act like people who are desperate, down on their luck, and bitterly outraged at the world.

    The question, though, is, do people who are down on their luck and bitter with their (admittedly pathetic) lot in life act that way?  How would we know?  Joe Asfalt doesn’t get interviewed by People or Us and when he has a falling out with his girlfriend the tabloids do not follow him or them around, looking for a scoop on their latest battle.  When Joe or his girl toss each other out of the house, no one is watching except the neighbors.  So how do we know how they behave?

    Maybe we assume they behave that way and it gives pleasure to see Mel Gibson being a jerk.  Makes him “one of us.”  Except he isn’t.

    But I don’t really give a damn about the private uglinesses of either Joe Asfalt or Mel Gibson.  It only matters to me when their private shittiness emerges into a public display, as in the case of Tom Cruise’s  asinine, Scientology-driven jeremiads about post-partum depression.  That matters because he is Tom Cruise and, like it or not, people put stock in what he says, and that incident had impact on peoples’ lives, not the least of which was Brooke Shields.  If Mel Gibson went berserk during an interview and made pronouncements about “the proper attire, place, position, and attitude” of women, then I’d care about what he thinks and says, because that would have consequences.

    What is unfortunate is that such things affect how we view their work.  It’s not fair, really.  People run the gamut, from really wonderful to really awful, and some of those people are artists.  Some of those artists are really good and create wonderful things, even those artists who may otherwise be reprehensible human beings.  In this regard I can understand the attitude of someone like J.D. Salinger or Thomas Pynchon, who have done all they could to keep people out of their private lives.  They given almost no interviews, they never made a big deal about themselves in public, eschewing the limelight.  In the case of someone like Salinger, the hermit approach actually contributed to his celebrity, fueling further book sales, because it becomes part of the myth about him.  It would not matter if he had done what he did with exactly that in mind, it would have happened anyway.  Pynchon less so, perhaps.

    But I can respect the idea that this was done precisely so the work wasn’t colored by the personality of the artist in ways that have nothing to do with the work.

    Society at large has a hunger for the viscera of the artist.  People who may never see a film, read a book, listen to a record with any genuine appreciation for the content of the work will nevertheless pay attention to those things in direct proportion to how much celebrity is attached to the artist.  So much so that we have phenomena like Paris Hilton who is famous for being famous.

    I’ve been mulling these ideas over lately because of the reverse question—how well does any artist know his or her audience?

    And do they want to?

    Demographics seem to drive everything today.  Targeting your audience correctly is the holy grail of promotions.  Is that movie geared toward the 18-to-24 crowd?  Women more than men?  What income bracket?  Education?  In the case of books, this leads me to ask, if they are in “my” demographic target, does that mean they will buy my books because they are predisposed to reading them, or is something much less causally connected, like those people who actually read who are part of that demographic may be more likely to buy my books than people who read who are part of some other demographic…

    But what is it about those other demographics that precludes the likelihood that they’ll buy my book?  That they’d more likely buy some other author’s books, based on the perception that he or she writes for the 25-to-45 upper middle class crowd.

    Pondering this makes my brain hurt.  Of all the factors that contribute to defining a demographic likely to do A rather than B or C, which factors contribute to a strong likelihood that none of them will fit the demographic that will pay attention to your work.

    And if some of those factors have to do with your public persona, then you have to ask which part?  The part that no one is ever supposed to know anything about (like a private phone call to a soon-to-be-ex-lover) or the part that you might tailor exclusively for public consumption.  In which case, isn’t that as much a work of art as the work of art you’re trying to sell?

    But at the end of the day, I’m still left wondering just why anyone is really interested in someone’s private life they do not know.  Not, mind you, in the sense of being disinterested in biography as history—the private labyrinths of a Howard Hughes become, over time, fascinating because of the archaeological nature of examining his legacy—but in the sense of trying to find a one-to-one relevance between you and a celebrity.  In that sense, it becomes legitimate to ask what purpose was served by the years of public attention to some like Wynona Judd and her seeming inability to have a happy life.  The feedback loop between personal tragedy, public perception-reception, and attempted “managing” of the personal in order to accommodate a publicity machine creates an ongoing kind of performance art that eventually has less to do with authentic experience and more to do with Artist As Subject, and therefore becomes increasingly artificial, at least in presentation, regardless of any reality—a reality which, under pressure from the attention, retreats further from the limelight and takes on further burdens in the attempt to be private.  You could see the whole thing as a kind of therapy conducted on the couch of public opinion, but to what benefit?  The thing receiving the therapy becomes less the person than the image.

    And then who is being served?  Is this merely entertainment or is there in fact a public function in all this closet-revelation?

    One thinks of politicians immediately, in particular with respect to sexual impropriety.  Do the private practices of an individual have anything to do with his or her ability to do a particular job?

    I suppose it’s a matter of what job they are required to do.  A senator whose campaign, election, and office concerned fiscal responsibility and who by any measure performs this task competently if not excellently is revealed to keep a mistress or two.  What does the one have to do with the other?  Nothing, really.  Private pecadilloes matter when the impropriety is directly connected with the job—for instance, if said senator had a history of insider trading or embezzlement.

    But then those would not be private, would they?  They would involved public factors.  Not sex, but monetary impropriety, even if kept private (and how could it be unless we’re talking about a loan from a brother-in-law that was never repaid?), has a direct public impact.

    Another senator whose campaign, election, and subsequent legislation bear on families, divorce laws, obscenity laws, laws governing the dissemination of birth control or the availability of abortion services or even information about birth control and abortion, or perhaps support of a foreign regime in which women are oppressed, then turns out to be cheating on his wife or has a history of using prostitutes.  Well, that bears directly, doesn’t it?  The hypocrisy of a Family Values politician keeping mistresses certainly is relevant to public policy.

    As unlikely as it might be that such a politician would be elected, someone who declared openly that he or she has had and may continue to have partners before, during, and outside of marriage would not, in my opinion, raise a question of moral conflict under these circumstances.  We could vote for or against from the beginning, there would be no deception.  Likewise with the politician who had exercised “poor judgment” in fiscal matters.

    But the complicating factor in such instances would be how the private matters were disclosed.  This hinges on the question of whether or not a person can and does change over time.  The recently deceased Senator Byrd’s past affiliation with the KKK is an example.  Given the opportunity and time, he demonstrated that, at least in the performance of his office, that circumstance had been left in the past.  Whether he had truly changed in his sentiments is beside the point next to his subsequent public record.

    What all this has to do with Mel Gibson is relevant only in the question of when and how the revelation of private failings is legitimate.  Does the knowledge that Mel Gibson can be a foul-mouthed, abusive, sexist racist impact anyone or anything outside his circle of acquaintances?  Because they, presumably, judge him and act accordingly without public input.  Does this kind of “news” serve any function beyond attracting and increasing the kind of attention that sells tabloids?

    Because everyone has a part of themselves they would rather keep exclusively between themselves and their chosen intimates.  Would it be fair if all of us were recorded displaying our less wonderful aspects and having said recording sent, say, to prospective employers or the dating services we might use or our new date or to the shopowners and restaurateurs we frequent or to business associates?  If all their dealings with us to date have been positive, how are they supposed to react if something like that were suddenly dropped into their lap?  And how would we defend ourselves from the predictable reactions?

    I’m just wondering.

  • Test Flight

    Last night we did something in this house we’ve not done in years.

    We broiled steaks.

    Oh, yes, we like our new stove.  We filled the manse with the aroma of good things to eat and lo, they were good to eat.  Our taste buds did happy dances while we feasted.  I assume our guests likewise experienced satori, possibly with each bite.

    Steak, asparagus, rice, sour dough rye bread, salad…we did it up royally.  Two excellent bottles of wine.  (My mother, by the way, would be amazed that I’d eaten asparagus willingly.  As a child I was most decidedly anti-vegetable.  I’m still less interested in them than in meat, but since I’ve learned what some of them taste like when properly prepared…)

    Yes, I am a carnivore.  Proud of it.  Should the Vegans seize control of the nuclear arsenals of the world and force the U.N. to adopt resolutions eliminating the consumption of flesh by humans, I will take up arms to depose them.  I long ago adopted my metric, which is that any animal I would have as a pet will not be served as dinner in my house, but as I am disinclined to make a pet of cows, sheep, pigs, chickens, and so on and so forth, it is a narrow range of critters exempt from my dietary preferences.

    And last night I demonstrated to myself once more why.

    There is an excellent store in St. Louis Hills, an old Tom-Boy that has become part deli, part butcher shop, part catering company.  Le Grand has the best cuts and I bought three one-pound rib-eyes, two pork steaks, two pounds of ground beef and cooked last night.  Friends were over.  We feasted.  The star of the evening was our new appliance, without which….

    It may be a while before we broil again—it’s summer and the kitchen is, after all, small—but that leaves a great deal to play with on the range.

    Anyway, I just wanted to report that we have inaugurated the stove and it proved worthy.

    Hope the weekend is a good one for you.