Chapter 68: In Which I Discuss Small Press Things

Had this terrible nightmare the other day where Newt Gingrinch was a viable presidential candidate and the army had the right to indefinitely imprison US citizens, Guantanamo-style. It sucks having an overactive imagination. Must be something I read in a dystopian novel.

I'm in Pittsburgh right now. The holiday break at my school is very long, and I have a whole month with which to hang around my hometown and get work done. Also moved out of my hippie house in Oakland, so I'm looking for a new place. It got too crazy. Left behind some really stellar people who I plan on keeping in touch with. Also left behind a selfish douchebag or two who I'm leaving in the past. So it goes. I can say I am done with communal living situations for the time being. The one I lived in was not a good example, as it was incredibly disorganized and had an almost nonexistent interview process to weed out people who didn't fit. Still, there comes a time when dealing with community issues becomes a liability to personal security and desires, and even if a spot opened in the World's Best Co-op, I need personal space right now. Not ruling it out for the future: communal living seems ever more attractive as our whole "me first" society crashes in on itself. I don't have anywhere lined up, but I'm excited to find a new place, just like with any next step.

Working on the manuscript for Hard Times Blues. The other day I posted up at the library at Carnegie Mellon (yay for finals hours!) and had a successful writing session. A bit on my writing process: I can't just sit down and write. I can type a bit, but then I need to walk around, read something, eat, listen to music. And by music I mean dubstep. I listen to much dubstep these days. I set aside four hours to write, wrote for three hours, then spent an hour researching Haitians in Louisiana for a story that may or may not end up in the final draft. Sometimes I feel unproductive, but as I get older I learn to embrace my own process and own it.

So everything was going fine until...

My computer crashed.

I don't know how it happened. I was writing in Open Office on Sunday morning, working on a commission piece. Sunday afternoon I go to the library and can't open Audacity, Open Office, or anything I use with any frequency. I kept getting a bar saying I don't have the authorization to do this. The only thing I could access was Internet Explorer and all the explanations on how to fix it made my head explode. I'm afraid to fix it myself because I don't want to fuck it up worse. I know a few techno-savvy types, and plan on checking in with them before paying a thousand bucks to the Best Buy geek squad. Luckily, the most important files on there were backed up elsewhere, but I am looking at some that might be permanently lost because of this nonsense. And I really don't get how my computer got jacked up between that morning and taking it to the library. What is this, an airborne computer virus? I just got done re-typing everything I typed on Saturday on the family computer, using Microsoft Word. Life is all about the slings and arrows, as we all know. There are certainly advantages to writing stories entirely from scratch, looking at them from a whole new perspective instead of trying to fit new ideas into an old draft.

Recently checked up on my consignments. As the person who consigned with the stores, every once in a while I need to call and see if I sold any. I didn't. Though I did let one get paid out at a certain store because I forgot to check on it months ago. So it's in a used bookstore somewhere. It's cool that I sold two of three books that I consigned there, though if I'd been on the ball I could have picked up that unsold one and consigned it elsewhere. There are always little mistakes in the learning process when doing things by yourself. Like that time I made fliers for a reading in Pittsburgh and started passing them out, not knowing there was no date on them.

In the interest of promotion: these lovely establishments carry The Jack Daniels Sessions EP. They are independent stores full of beautiful people and always need the support:

Future Dreams (Portland, OR)
Quimby's (Chicago, IL)
Marcus Books (Oakland, CA)
Laurel Bookstore (Oakland, CA)
Boxcar Books (Bloomington, IN)
Blind Willow Bookstore (Emmaus, PA)
Rainbow Bookstore Collective (Madison, WI)

Buy a copy from them and you will get my eternal love. And speaking of bookstores...

Reading tonight!

It's a homecoming, baby. Six Gallery Press presents yours truly, Jason Baldinger, Bill Hughes and Don Wentworth for a night of the literary. Judging by next month's lineup, I'm guessing tonight is "Dude Nite." I assure you, though, that women are more than welcome to come. I'll probably be reading from "Assistant," as I've been growing interested in the last few chapters as performance material. It's good to be home.

R.I.P. Darrell Sweet

One of my favorite scifi/fantasy mags is Black Gate. They cover all fantasy, from 80s role-palying tie-ins to the pulps to 60s science fantasy, and they do so with unabashed love. I found out from their site that cover artist Darrell Sweet passed away.

Sweet is the kind of person who made people read fantasy in the 80s. After all, the cover is what you see first. He came from the school when fantasy covers were gorgeous, detailed, colorful and blatantly, happily fantastical. Along with the Hildebrandts and Elmore, this guy pretty much set the standard. His portfolio is a treasure trove of halflings, dragons and magic swords. They let you know you were in for adventure. Seeing his covers on the shelves were the reason why I read series like the Deryni books.

Here's Black Gates tribute, which is far more eloquent than anything I could put it. Please, please look into his work if you have not already. I feel lucky to have grown up in a time when every fantasy book was blessed with a beautiful painting for a cover, and Darrell Sweet was at the top of the heap. R.I.P.

http://www.blackgate.com/2011/12/06/art-of-the-genre-darrell-k-sweet-1934-2011/#more-27850

Chapter 67: In Which I Discuss Hard Times

Got on the bus today and saw a girl reading a Bran chapter of ASOIAF. Got off the bus and saw a girl reading Neverwhere. This fantasy thing. It's spreading.

I'm putting Motley & Plume Players on the shelf for a while. I'm not saying it was a hard decision. It was a startlingly easy decision. After working on the novel for a year, and getting up to over 400 pages, I'm still learning things about this book and these characters. I need the room to discover this story, and all the blown deadlines should have been my tip-off to give it the time a novel deserves.

Tried to finish the whole book over Thanksgiving break. Soon realized this would be impossible. One trip to the Berkeley Writers Circle convinced me that I would be shooting myself in the foot trying to do a truncated version of this material. Even if I did finish the manuscript, the goal was to edit down to 300 pages, while I was still figuring out the different, wonderful avenues I could take this piece. I know that someday it will be something special. Just not this May.

I also know that me and deadlines don't mix. Hell, I blew an anthology submission deadline just last week because I was feeling sick. As a writer, I'll have to start making these deadlines. This is important for things like anthology submissions. But I cannot actually write a book on any kind of tight schedule. The kind of novels I want to put out will take years. Which sucks. Years are something I have in limited supply. There's so many stories I want to tell. I really envy writers like Gaiman and Catherynne Valente who can produce mountains of quality work every year.

Sigh. I spoke with Christine and my publisher. I let them know I wanted my end of the book to be something I could put together by May, at the level of quality I expect from myself. They agreed. Like I said, an easy decision. The right decision. Motley & Plume Players, you're going back on the shelf. A little bit older, a little bit wiser, a lot longer. Looking forward to seeing you again.

That said...

Hard Times Blues

Rejoice! Hard Times are comin'.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CxC3oAD1iUg

Love that promo. And I'm as hyped up as Dusty.

The tentative name for my next collection is Hard Times Blues, collecting my work of the last year. Zombie stories, fairy tales, Jack tales, poems, and various doodads. I see it as a companion piece to Jack Daniels Sessions, with the skills I gained in the interim. I have four definite stories and I'm debating what the fifth piece will be. I will spend my sabbatical in the wintry harshness of Pittsburgh putting together this manuscript.

I'm about to embark back into the real world from grad school. It's time. So much has been going on, literally on my doorstep, and college feels more and more like a bubble to hide from the troubles of the world. Are there jobs for young men such as me? Will anyone survive 2012? I don't know; these are hard times. That this book will be killer...that's one thing that is certain.

Chapter 66: In Which I (And A Cat) Welcome December

So I slept horribly on the morning of the first. Thanks to a combo of indigestion, insomnia, and an uncomfortable position on an uncomfortable mattress, I woke up feeling like my legs were stuck in my arm sockets and my arms stuck in my head sockets and my head stuck in...well, you get the idea. Sore all over. I literally crawled from my bunk to go take a hot shower.

I live in a hippie house. Since the summer, we have adopted an orange tabby. As far as I know, it was a gift of a man to his daughter, and the babymama had no desire to take care of it. We feed it, so it stays here all the time, and has grown quite fat. I walk in the bathroom and there it is, crouched on the toilet, its eyes shining like sequins. They're such creepy animals. Nocturnal, haughty, and even the smallest kitten has something of the predator. It was staring straight at me.

After showering, I went back to bed for part 2. I settled in, when all of a sudden I heard a tapping, as of someone gently rapping. The cat, trying to get in. Knocking on the door like a person. I thought no more of it, when I heard the door open a crack. A skinny arm, like a prop wielded by a puppeteer, slipped through and started moving up and down, widening the gap.

The cat was opening the door.

And I thought, "Goddamnit, this is Poe territory."

I watched this in fascination a minute before getting up and locking the door. The cat is welcome, of course, just not that morning. The thought of it perching on one of the bunks and saying "Nevermore" at me did nothing for my ability to sleep. I locked the door. The cat knocked harder, and meowed, and somehow managed to swat at the lock. Several minutes later it started screaming to get in. An appropriately creepy way to start December, the scariest of all months. The autumnal change that comes with October can't compete with the pure apocalyptic feel of the last month, when you stand on the brink of a new year, and the weather makes the simple act of going outside feel potentially lethal.

Hans Christian Andersen
Currently reading: "The Marsh King's Daughter." There's nothing better than discovering a piece from a familiar writer that leaves you as riveted as the first piece you read of theirs. "Marsh King's Daughter" is amazing, enchanting from beginning to end. There are familiar Andersen-isms: birds, a princess under a spell that makes her disagreeable, an old king who falls ill, heavy Christian symbolism, etc.

Yet the aging writer flips the script a bit. First off, it has an international feel where different cultures are allowed to coexist. The titular character is the daughter of an Egyptian princess and a marsh-spirit, and spends half her life in a grotesque amphibian form. Half of our world and half of the fairy world, she is raised by a Viking chieftess, comes to break her spell by the influence of a Christian priest, and is ultimately reunited with her North African mother. Their first goal as mother and daughter is to save her grandfather, the Pharoah. The story is held together by a family of storks, a bickering husband-wife combo who provide both the catalyst and denoument to the story. They are a sort of guardian angel to the imperiled princess and help her family without question. Andersen is not only doing cross-cultural, but cross-species collaboration. The humans even learn how to speak stork!

Though Christianity is lionized, as usual, Andersen affords respect to the pagan beliefs of the Vikings, his own ancestors' beliefs. The Viking chieftess is a loving person who gains comfort through her religion. It is both the pagan and the Christian that influence the princess in a positive manner. Though Christianity redeems in this story, Andersen adds an element to it that is very much in line with the Old Testament. His presentation of Christianity emphasizes the "awe" of God, the ability for religion to burn you.

There's some "Beauty and the Beast" here. The titular character spends half of her life as a perfectly kind and good amphibious monster, the other half as a beautiful, evil and vicious princess. Andersen completely subverts the beauty=goodness stereoptype. The human side of her is the side that is truly duplicitous. This play with binaries is something I would expect from Angela Carter, not one of her literary predecessors.

Andersen is a romantic, as in a main focus of his writing is romantic love. Childhood infatuation, unrequited love for women. Here, he puts emphasis on familial love: for daughters, for sons, for birth parents and foster parents. The ties between family are what ultimately move the story along and serve as its anchor. The storks even become a sort of surrogate family for the human characters. There's also his delightful fairy tale logic: characters don stork feathers to fly between fantasy versions of Denmark and Egypt. Baby girls are born from flowers, Thumbelina-style. "The Marsh King's Daughter" is a later story, a more thoughtful Andersen working with the tropes of his early work. And I would be remiss to not mention the writing style. His strength as a writer was bringing old fairy tales to life through description and characterization. This would not be half the story without the diaogue between the wise stork couple. The characters experience loss and longing, all of it heartfelt.

For all its rambling fairy tale language, "The Marsh King's Daughter" is very cohesive story, every digression leading back to the original plot, all of it coming to a twist ending I sure didn't see coming. Magic is dangerous and unpredictable, and Anderson knew this. Be careful what you wish for.

Good job, Hans.

“I can smell the Nile mud and the wet frogs,” said the stork-mamma, “and I begin to feel quite hungry. Yes, now you shall taste something nice, and you will see the marabout bird, and the ibis, and the crane. They all belong to our family, but they are not nearly so handsome as we are. They give themselves great airs, especially the ibis. The Egyptians have spoilt him. They make a mummy of him, and stuff him with spices. I would rather be stuffed with live frogs, and so would you, and so you shall. Better have something in your inside while you are alive, than to be made a parade of after you are dead. That is my opinion, and I am always right.”

Chapter 65: In Which I Discuss the Tyranny of Unrealism

I admit I don't understand a lot of geek culture. I am a geek. I feel good in the company of other geeks. But there are certain strains of it I don't get. I will never understand them, no matter how hard I try.

Case in point: True Blood. Yes, I know the season ended months ago. I write these blogs at my own pace. They killed off Tara. Sookie's black friend. Summary: Debbie Pelt, the drug-addicted werewolf whose boyfriend is pining for Sookie, goes after her with a shotgun. Tara pushes Sookie out the way, gets some buckshot to the brain for her troubles. Sookie grabs the gun and blows Debbie's head off.

Very tense scene. And I like that, with all the supernatural goings-on, the climax of the show comes down to two rednecks blowing holes in each other over a man. I told a friend of mine about it, and her response was:

"So they killed off the only woman of color on the show?"

Me: "They also killed off the gay Hispanic guy."

I understand why Rutina Wellsley would want to leave the show. There was nothing left for character to do, other than get subjected to more misery, and she's been on it four years. Still, taking her out the way they did sucks. Tara could have left Bon Temps for good (like she tried and failed to do at the end of the third season). By having her sacrifice herself, they imply that Sookie's life means more than hers. It's also horribly predictable that the best friend character takes the hit in order to prove that people can die on the show. If they had to kill a side character, it should have been Jason. I wouldn't have seen that coming.

Seeing them kill of Tara, and vastly reducing the characters of color in a show that takes place in Louisiana, I remembered how I used to go on Youtube and the Television Without Pity forums to see what people were saying about the latest episode, and read this over and over.

"Tara is so annoying. I wish she would die."

"OMFG I hate that quivering lip."

"Kill Tara she won't stop complaining."

"She's so annoying the vampires need to kill her."

So all the haters got their wish. She's dead. First of all, Rutina Wellesley has more acting chops in her bottom lip than most of the other actors on the show, Anna Paquin included. There is an amount of vulnerability in her character that few actors can do well. I admit that I didn't like how Tara was the dumping ground for every tragedy on the show. Abused, abandoned, manipulated, raped. Yet she always got a significant amount of hate from the fanbase. In examining this hate, I finally determined Tara's purpose on the show.

Tara was the voice of reason.

Case in point: her freak-out upon seeing sociopathic Eric Northman in Sookie's house. Keep in mind that Eric was up in the witch coven threatening Tara and her cousin just days before. So after he shows up at Sookie's, she points out all the obvious reasons why harboring him is a bad idea. Sookie does not think of such things. Eric is just so dreamy and he's having amnesia, which means it's okay for Sookie to keep him around and fuck him in a swamp during that ridiculous scene a few episodes later. It's a known fact that Sookie Stackhouse is the most self-absorbed heroine on television. Not surprising given Alan Ball's previous female characters, but I think even Brenda Chenowith and Claire Fisher would be appalled by Sookie. I seriously wonder why she's portrayed as so vapid.

Tara was the human voice on the show. She's not there to be Sookie's best friend, because their friendship is superficial and weak. She kept the plotlines grounded by using straight up logic. Everybody else is using vampire logic or shifter logic or fairy logic or what have you. Tara hates vampires. Any rational human being would considering the carnage they've committed over the show's year-long storyline. And they would hold onto that grudge, as Tara has. Sookie doesn't, but she's not supposed to act realistically. Her character even works in context, as a person who grew up as a social pariah and only feels comfortable in the vampire world.

"Oh my God tara keeps making the same mistakes! She was with Marianne and now she's with the witch! God they should kill her off!"

Yes, human beings make mistakes. Especially ones who come from an abusive background and are constantly surrounded by danger.

The show absolutely needs a realistic character. Someone who reacts to the fucked up events with sorrow, rage and frustration. If the other characters are supposed to be unrealistic, they need that foil to keep things in perspective. "She's so annoying." I personally find the vampires raping and killing everybody in sight to be annoying. In real life, somebody would be bitter if they were raised by an alcoholic. In real life, somebody might try to kill themselves after her boyfriend is murdered by police. In real life, if a vampire kidnapped you, tied you up, forced you to have sex and threatened to kill you, you would call it rape and feel traumatized. Tara hated Franklin and tried to kill him, though she didn't succeed. Compare this to Sookie, who spent season four having extremely awkward, no-chemistry, short-girl, tall-guy sex with the viking who just chained her up in a dungeon a few days ago. The show absolutely needed a character who reacts to the events like a human being, and now that character is gone, to the delight of many.

There's an element of geek sexism to it. Women in fandom are just as guilty as the men are. Tara is considered annoying. But serial killers like Eric get off the hook because "at least he's honest, and, well, he's so hot!!!" I don't know why this works in geek circles. A realistically drawn protagonist will get the kind of fan hate that would normally be reserved for villains, while the worst characters get let off the hook either for having one-liners or rock-hard abs. The characters who fans either want to be or want to fuck. That's why people love the vampires on True Blood. They're witty and good-looking. I know why that matters so much, but that doesn't mean I like it.

The extreme backlash against Tara reminds me of another one of my favorite fandoms: A Song of Ice and Fire. George Martin's epic is filled with "gray" characters who continually commit atrocities, if not outright crimes against humanity. These characters do not get the most hate. In fact, some of them, like Jaime the Kingslayer, are the most popular.

Catelyn Stark is one of the most complicated female protagonists in all of high fantasy. She is strong, stubborn, fragile, fiercely loyal to her family, smart, at times calculating and at other times tragically impetuous. Fashioning such a character is a sign of triumph for Martin, more than any worldbuilding, plot twist or "grit" that the series aspires to. It's not that Catelyn doesn't make mistakes, but a significant amount of the fandom blames her for everything bad that happens in the novels, while lionizing characters like the Kingslayer or Littlefinger because they are "cool," "sexy" and "badass." And don't even get me started on how they make excuses for Tyrion.

I don't know. If I wanted cool, sexy badasses I'd read the latest paranormal romance book. I read Martin's books specifically for the complexity of the characters and plotlines. It's less frustrating in something like Ice and Fire, where I am aware that the author is crafting complicated characters. The hate is totally an aspect of the fandom. On the inverse, in the last two books Jaime continues to be a deeply conflicted, self-pitying, petty and, sometimes, straight up evil character who gets lauded with praise from the fandom.

 Many ASOIAF geeks hate Sansa Stark. A character who at this point in the narrative is 13 years old, and whose major crime seems to be having a romantic personality. Go on any forum, and you'll find plenty of people saying she should be punished for betraying her father to the Lannisters (being an 11-year-old girl who thought the Lannisters were on her side) and, having said that, reach for reasons to heap hate upon this child. George Martin even omitted her betrayal from the TV version of the book, basically admitting it didn't matter to the plotline. Fand son't care. There will always be accusations about her storyline being boring and slow. She's too naive. She's a bitch, etc.

Needless to say, I feel differently. I think she has one of the more fascinating storylines in the books. Sansa Stark is probably Martin's greatest creation: a completely realistic person put into a fantasy setting. In the first book, she is sometimes snooty and has disdain for her tomboy sister, which in nerd world makes her hateable and in the real world makes her, you know, a medieval heiress. Once she is imprisoned by the Lannisters she endures abuse. She is an 11-year-old girl stuck in a horrible circumstance and reacts as an 11-year-old girl would act. No, she isn't sexy like her ninja assassin sister Arya, or cool like her Professor X-style mystic brother Bran. When faced with danger, Sansa minds her manners, doesn't rock the boat and hopes for the best. Like most people would. Not only this, but she comes through these trials with her sense of decency and justice intact.

Still, Sansa gets heaped with hate. I can't help but detect some sexism with her, too. She is the head cheerleader type of the narrative, somewhat vain and prissy. Never mind that she grows out of this by the second book. To an average male geek, her stuck-upness makes her more detestable than the slew of child murderers, necrophiliacs, rapists and tyrants who make up the main cast. Worst of all, during her journey she is not raped, maimed, tortured, or any other punishment that male geeks like to wish on uppity female characters.

In Martin's world of flawed yet larger-than-life characters, this single practical storyline shines through with its complexity. What makes Sansa's story work is that it is so intelligent. Her chapters in A Feast for Crows were primarily domestic scenes, in which most of her character growth is internal. She is learning the ropes from Littlefinger in a very methodical way. Its all very subtle on Martin's part, and slow, and I'm excited to see where it goes because I know it will be intelligently written.

I think there is a certain subsect of geek culture that really wants to be condescended to. They claim sophistication by liking serious political drama like ASOIAF and adult-oriented shows like True Blood, then cry "Oh my God I hate that" when the creators do anything akin to realism. Sch people say they like grown-up entertainment when they really want Forgotten Realms books. And I can understand disliking a realistic character popping up in a Drizz't novel. But why do you watch a TV show where one character is supposed to be realistic, in a setting that is supposed to mirror our world, then complain about her acting like a realistic 21st century American woman. It's the tyranny of unrealism: the desire for fantasy to be merely wish fulfillment when it's far more than that. It boggles my mind. And I'm sure you'll see me bitching about this at a convention panel someday.

Get Used to It

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o9e3sXxFG2M

This horrific footage from today's Occupy Oakland protest came courtesy of Tea Party Tweets on Youtube. I love that the fakeass GOP voter mobilization ruse is not only still pretending like it exists after the midterm elections, but providing useful footage as well. Thanks, guys, for being useful for someone other than John Boehner.

Like when any movement gains momentum, at some point state violence comes into play. Usually this is early on. It's interesting that it took them this long.

I have not participated in the Occupy Oakland protest. I have my own reasons. However, I can say a few years ago I took time off from the struggle to focus on my writing career. To do so necessitated embracing whatever limited privilege I have. I go to Mills College, one of the most obvious white privilege zones in the Bay. If an actual class war were to ever happen in Oakland, Mills would be a main target.

The occupation was a lovely thing to experience, even as an outsider. People from all walks of life dialoguing and creating a non-hierarchical space. Despite this setback, the momentum will not die. That's because the dialogue has changed completely. The dialogue in America (even politicians are recognizing) is about class. And since things will get increasingly worse for the working-class, expect more actions like the occupatons.

Repeat: it's about class. I had to unfriend a few douches on Facebook recently who were ragging on the occupiers as people who need to get a job. The occupiers are working-class people from one of the ruggedest cities in California. My Facebook friends were born and raised in the wealthiest county in Maryland. Class versus class. People who can afford laptops for Facebook versus people who wait in line to use their hour at the library for job hunting. It is about class.

It is also about race. Mostly it's about class. Being white in this country does not have as much capital as it used to. A poor white person will find it equally hard to get a job, and modern protest movements, if they are worth a damn, address issues of privilege in their organizing. And, yes, some people will continue to say it's welfare and Mexicans and liberals wanting to suck the government teat. These people are going to become increasingly irrelevant. Their slogans will, as well.

It is not about politics. I'm actually beginning to think Obama will not get a second term because his base has completely moved beyond him. If so, I don't feel bad for him, because he'll be one of the few people out there whose family will be taken care of. Good for him. There's also the nihilistic part of me that wants the Republicans back just to see what calamities they can serve up this time. It is not about liberals and conservatives. It's not something politicians can fix, and it's something they're to blame for only in an abstract way. The money belongs to 1% of the people and it's never going to trickle down. The industry in this country is gone. Politicians not only can't provide for you, what with the welfare state cracking, they cannot save you from this mess.

I didn't need to be in downtown tonight because the last time I was in a place called Oakland I saw the exact same thing. That was when police tear gassed the Towers on the Pitt campus, after the G20 had already left town. These guys with the fancy toys were mostly out-of-towners, as your typical Pittsburgh cops were out harassing street hoods who they thought matched the "anarchist" description. Stupid fucking yinzers. I know what a police riot looks like already. I'm used to it.

Get used to it. Campuses filled with tear gas. Downtown filled with tear gas. The difference is that those college kids were holding a rally, and were thus on the defensive. The occupations, even with the lack of clear demands they have been criticized for, are by nature offensive. I suspect a lot of college students who might have wasted their time next year with "Get Out the Vote Campaigns' have found their real option.

Expect more of this. Expect to see it in your city. America is facing economic collapse, and no amount of telling people to get jobs, or voting, or sloganeering, or Obma presenting bills, or the Republicans shutting them down, or hating Mexicans or championing corporations like so many Americans like to do for some absurd reason is going to change it. The dialogue has moved to class, and class in this country is not going to change without a fight. It's going to be the 60s all over again. Unlike the 60s, nobody will be pacified with crumbs from the government, and there will be nowhere for the middle-class to retreat to. Except maybe into the streets. I suggest investing in a gas mask.

Rushdie

Fascinating interview, and now I finally see what the big deal is about this guy. We live in an age where a book even making money is cause for celebration. Rushdie is the last author to make people angry with a book. I seriously didn't know. The trail of blood that followed The Satancic Verses is just...wow. Puts a lot of shame on radical Islam, but also speaks to the power of writing. Interesting author, even if his opinion on The Wire is utterly wrong.

http://www.haaretz.com/weekend/magazine/interview-salman-rushdie-is-not-afraid-1.389961