Sarah Kanning

A friend asked if I’d seen this op-ed by David Alpaugh in the Chronicle of Higher Ed. I responded to her directly, then figured, why waste a good rant? (Thanks for the nudge, Gretchen.)

Yes I did see this, and it ticked me off because it’s insipid. “There’s too much poetry! The good stuff gets lost! MFA programs are cranking out too many writers!” This is the sort of non-news, non-thinking blathering that pontificators of every generation seem to spout.

Look a the final paragraph:

“Every now and then someone asks me, ‘Who are the best poets writing today?’ My answer? ‘I have no idea.’ Nor do I believe that anyone else does. I do have an uneasy feeling that a Blake and a Dickinson may be buried in the overgrowth, and I fear that neither current nor future readers may get to enjoy their art. That would be the most devastating result of the new math of poetry. The loss would be incalculable.”

No one has EVER had ANY idea who the best poets of their own times were. It is unknowable. Blake and Dickinson are perfect examples – they were both “buried in the overgrowth” IN THEIR OWN TIMES. Why should our time be any different? And why blame changes in media and publishing for it?

And why have an uneasy feeling about it? Relax, read the stuff you love, look around for more stuff that you might love, acknowledge the unalterable nature of Sturgeon’s Law, recognize the 95% of everything that is crud for what it is (fertilizer for the other 5%), and enjoy life.

That is all for now.

In the immortal words of Jim Anchower, it’s been a long time since I rapped at ya, so here it make up for it is…a link. I know, I really shouldn’t have. But it’s a good one: Ten Rules for Writing (from various people who probably know what they’re talking about), a la Elmore Leonard, from the Guardian. Great stuff. Especially Margaret Atwood’s #5 rule: “Do back exercises. Pain is distracting.”

While you’re there, you might want to check out Lyndall Gordon’s article about Emily Dickinson, which I believe is excerpted from her new biography, Lives Like Loaded Guns.

On the upside, revisions of the novel’s second act are going swimmingly.

This afternoon I heard more hand-wringing from yet another commentator (this one an author, Eric Weiner, on NPR) about the demise of paper books and the rise of electronic editions. Here’s an excerpt:

I’m confident that I’ll still get my fair share from each e-book sold. But as an author, I’m not after your money. Well, not only your money. I have my sights on a much more precious commodity: your time. We enter into an unspoken pact, you and I: Give me a few hours, stolen moments on the subway or after the kids are asleep, and I promise to inform and entertain you. Frankly, that’s always been a tough sell, given the sundry ways you can spend your time, but at least I had a fighting chance. Curled up with a pinot noir and my book, your attention was mine to lose. Not anymore. The new generation of e-books will, in essence, merge the laptop and the book. Now if my narrative starts to drag, or I digress, readers can click onto their favorite news site to see what’s up with health care, or click onto TMZ to see what’s up with Brangelina. How do I compete with that?

Is this a reasonable worry? How much time do most normal people spend curled up with a pinot noir (or in my case, decaf coffee or  maybe a good pale ale) and a book these days?

Well, as a matter of fact, I read a whole book uninterrupted just last night, a debut YA fantasy novel from a cracking good writer and storyteller, Malinda Lo (the book is Ash, and I highly recommend it). I read it in print, a hard copy edition that I borrowed from the library.

I’m also in the middle of reading SHE by H. Rider Haggard on my iPod touch. It’s a bit of a pain to keep flipping “pages” on that tiny screen, but when I’m waiting in a doctor’s office or yes, even when I’m in bed before I turn the light out, it’s very convenient. I got that book free, too, from Project Gutenberg.

Here’s the thing: I read at least one or two books every week, and I live in a two bedroom apartment with three large bookcases that are already full. Up to this point, I’ve had what amounts to a one-in, one-out rule for book purchases. (Ash is quite possibly good enough to qualify for a purchase–but I have to decide what I’m getting rid of. Back issues of Tin House, I’m looking at you.) With this fun new device and a downloaded app or two, however, I can exponentially expand my collection of books without running the risk of being featured on that hoarders show.

Here’s what that means to those in the publishing industry: I’m the customer you can get back with e-books, if you play your cards right. Also, an e-book (like that pale ale?) is not a purchase for me, it’s a rental, so please price it accordingly. If I have the choice between paying a buck or two to get instant access to a book I’m interested in reading, or waiting a few weeks (or months) to get it through the local library, that’s something I’d be willing to pay for. If the e-book in question is $10 or $20, well…there are plenty of fish in the sea, and a lot of other books I can get right now and read while I wait for the library’s copy.

Here’s what it means to authors: if you want me to buy your book in hard copy, it has to be one I will fall head over heels in love with and want to live with at least as long as a typical marriage lasts these days. But even if I don’t want to marry your book, I might not mind a fling (electronic, of course). Your chances are better if you make the first few chapters of your book available online, free. Consider it a first date. (Herman Melville, you had me at “Call me Ismael.”)

Today Subterranean Press published “The Bohemian Astrobleme” by Kage Baker. It’s set in the steampunkish world of The Women of Nell Gwynne’s (also from Subterranean), and features a certain Lady Beatrice…

Subterranean Press » Fiction: The Bohemian Astrobleme by Kage Baker.

Good stuff!

This is also a good time to send out positive cosmic whirlies (and maybe a card or email?) to the author, who unfortunately is seriously ill. I’ve been an avid reader of Kage Baker’s Company books and am sad to hear it.

Some archaeologists now believe that humans learned how to brew beer before they learned to bake bread, and that our ancestors’ desire for alcoholic beverages helped encourage them to develop agriculture.

This falls under the category of “not quite news,” since various scientists and historians have reported on our species’ long history with alcohol, BUT it’s relevant to me at the moment because of my current project, a novel set in a culture similar to some of those that sprang up in ancient Mesopotamia (the Sumerians, the Babylonians, and the Akkadians). Date beer in particular shows up fairly often, with the occasional appearance of mead and wine.

The article linked below highlights several reasons why a desire for alcohol could have helped fuel agriculture and taken us down our current path of civilization, including the pharmacological effects, but the author leaves out three I think may have been pretty significant:

1. Unsafe water. Alcohol kills germs, and alcoholic beverages would have been safer to drink in many cases than water.

2. More protein. The process of brewing increases the amount of protein in beer, which would have been important when other protein sources were relatively scarce and hard to get.

3. Thriftiness. Some alcoholic brews are made from things people can’t eat anyway (or don’t want to), like grape stems (grappa) and crushed or overripe fruit (cider). Also, without refrigeration or canning equipment, our forebears used fermentation to preserve extra food (along with drying and pickling) – not just for beer and wine, but for yogurt and cheese (which is a different type of fermentation, of course!).

Did a thirst for beer spark civilization? – Features, Archaeology – The Independent.