New examples of what I talk about in this ramble have popped up since I recorded it. When you read about them, think about the behind-the-scenes picture I talk about here.
Link to the ALA's Freedom to Read statement, mentioned in the ramble: http://www.ala.org/advocacy/intfreedom/freedomreadstatement
Transcript below.
Hi, all. Welcome to this episode of The Jaguar’s Heart.
Today, I’m here to stand for Huckleberry Finn, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Catch in the Rye… and Dr. Seuss. Because every author—and every person—should be against the burning of books.
I feel it would be a good idea to start this one out by meeting on common ground. Something I think we can all safely agree on is that monopolies are bad. Yes, even capitalists can agree on that one. As Hayek said, “Our freedom of choice in a competitive society rests on the fact that, if one person refuses to satisfy our wishes, we can turn to another. But if we face a monopolist we are at his mercy.”
Many of you know where I’m going with this, because you’ve been with me long enough to hear me talk about the dangers of Amazon’s control of the book market. I’m not sure about the numbers being bandied about right now because I think they’re inclusive only of publishers’ catalogs/Bookscan results, which would leave out Amazon’s imprints and indie sales. But the current statistic is that Amazon sells 50% of all print books in the US, and around 73% of the ebooks…
Books that Amazon disappears, then, are torched.
The argument most likely to come up when I say that is “but you can still buy them at other retailers,” which takes the point of view of the consumer (and misses the basic economic argument that the more friction you insert into the sales process, the more likely you are to lose the sale). But let’s accept that Amazon refusing to sell a book does not remove it from sale from the consumer viewpoint. Instead, let’s talk about what that removal does from the publisher’s perspective. If half to three quarters of your sales are coming from a single platform, and that platform bans your book, then your income for that title has cratered. For the publisher who paid for that book’s publication, your investment is toast.
Imagine yourself in the shoes of that publisher who has just lost their investment. What do you think you’re going to do in the future when someone proposes a book you think might run afoul of Amazon’s guidelines?
The most powerful—and frightening—effect of Amazon failing to carry a book doesn’t start—or end—with the consumer’s ability to purchase that title. It’s what happens during the processes you don’t see, the ones where people decide which books are published at all, that matters. To rustle up another quote from a smarter person than me, from 1945: “If publishers and editors exert themselves to keep certain topics out of print, it is not because they are frightened of prosecution but because they are frightened of public opinion. […] The sinister fact about literary censorship in England is that it is largely voluntary.”
George Orwell. Unavoidably.
...and now maybe you see where I’m going with Dr. Seuss, and the estate’s pre-emptive self-banning of titles, not for economic reasons, but because of public opinion. The prevailing argument is that “publishers decide not to publish books all the time!” and that this is not an example of cancel culture. But if you’re looking with me at the bigger picture, you’ll see this is a symptom of the disease Orwell identified over 75 years ago… where the censorship begins before the books even reach the consumer. If the Seuss estate had made this decision for some other reason, they wouldn’t have announced it so conspicuously, and at a time when other books are being taken down from retailers because of loud minority opinions. The estate wouldn’t have chosen books mentioned in an academic paper from two years ago (written, I might add, by two people involved in an organization that pushes neoracist children’s books; one would think conflict of interest should have invalidated the results).
But if that’s not sufficient proof that this is a symptom and not a single publisher’s enlightened choice, then I will point out that eBay almost immediately stopped allowing auctions of those “no longer published” books because they violated eBay’s “offensive material policy: listings that promote or glorify hatred, violence, or discrimination.” If this isn’t about cancellation, then the publisher’s choice should not have been reflected, immediately, by a completely different retailer… which isn’t even applying its own standards consistently, because it leaves up auctions of Mein Kampf and other offensive items.
It doesn’t stop there, either. Libraries are now having fights about whether they should keep these books on the shelves. Some number are standing by the American Library Association’s Freedom to Read statement, which is a powerful one, and I recommend reading it. Others—more than I wish—are removing those books from circulation.
Strange how all these “separate” entities are making the same choice, at the same time, about the same books.
If this were the only example… but it’s not. Josh Hawley’s publisher canceling his contract is another symptom of Orwell’s voluntary censorship. A much smaller conservative publisher picked the book up, but it remains to be seen if retailers will carry it. Books written by sexual behavior researchers like Dr. Soh keep vanishing from major retailers: Amazon, Target, Walmart. On Amazon you can buy a “social justice planner” that says ‘screw TERFs’ (except in stronger language), and of course, the hit song in the US is about the sexual exploitation of men, also using language I won’t repeat. To say these rules are asymmetrical in their application is an understatement.
Completely aside from the fact that a free society should not ban books, and that bad ideas should be fought with good ideas, not censorship, there are other reasons not to ban books. To return to Dr. Seuss, one of the titles being ‘de-listed’ (and now being culled from retailers, many libraries, and resale sites) was the first he published. Historians and scholars of children’s books will no longer have ready access to that title in order to study and put into context the books important to the 20th century… and you can’t talk about children’s books without addressing the influence of Dr. Seuss. Over 600 million copies of his books are in circulation, and he’s had multiple movies and TV specials, and has been translated into over 20 languages… it’s impossible. People will be standing on the shoulders of this giant for generations.
So that’s a scholarly reason. Another reason not to ban books is because without access to books from earlier periods in history we can’t understand the cultural context of the eras in which they were published. It’s a bizarre new trend, one I can only attribute to how poorly modern generations are educated, to assume that the past should be judged as if the people in it adhered to the standards of the present, a view that robs the past of its context, its lessons, and its alienness. Every period in history is defined by its particular perspective, and without primary sources, any conclusions you draw about it and its people are flawed.
Without that context, you can’t properly understand your own period in history, either: not the warnings and mistakes, nor the changes, or the progress. How can you see how far you’ve come if you’ve deleted all references to where you were? The extent to which we are doomed to repeat the past is linked to our decision to erase the evidence… so strongly that I have to wonder if that’s not the point. If what we really want is to recreate the atrocities of the past for those who believe they might reap the benefits, and escape the consequences. I have sad news for those people: they will be the first against the wall. They always are.
Book burning, then, isn’t always literal. And it’s never something to be proud of. People who insist that what we’re seeing is the march of history toward enlightenment are failing to notice the more sinister things going on in the backdrop. To return to older and wiser voices, I bring you this quote from a classic written in 1953: “It didn’t come from the government down. There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship to start with, no! Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God.”
What else? Ray Bradbury. Fahrenheit 451.
Anyway, that’s all I got. Thanks for listening to this rebel heart. Jaguar out.
Or at least, I intend it to be relaxing. Hopefully it delivers.
4:22 minutes
Materials:
- Pen: Moonman Starry Glass dip pen, Mars: https://www.jetpens.com/Moonman-Starry-Sky-Glass-Dip-Pen-Mars/pd/31536
- Paper: Strathmore Writing Series 500, lined: https://www.jetpens.com/Strathmore-500-Series-Writing-Pad-8.5-x-11-Lined-50-Sheets/pd/15322
- Ink: Robert Oster, Rose Gilt Tynte: https://www.jetpens.com/Robert-Oster-Rose-Gilt-Tynte-Fountain-Pen-Ink-Shake-N-Shimmy-50-ml-Bottle/pd/25170
In which I talk about the paper, the paint, and the experience of oils versus gouache. Fun stuff, will do more.
Thank you Locals supporters! Your contribution to my art war chest here is what's powering these experiments and videos. For now I'm keeping them public but I may start doing some subscriber-only videos if you all are interested.💖
Thanks for your comments yesterday on the business post... all very provocative, in a good way. I'll try to respond to all of them today.
Some Alysha misc now, since I'm gearing up for the results of the Kickstarter!
Petrov is giving away coupon codes for every book in the Alysha series (and has some leftover coupons for Marda and the business book). You can pick those up here (and please do! The books are bought already, someone should use them!) https://twitter.com/PetrovNeutrino/status/1457344535843987461
Our own @JudasComplex sent along a sample of the Faith in the Service audiobook, which I've attached for your delight! I... haven't had a chance to listen to it. Don't ask me about my past week and a half or so. Putting it here will guarantee I get to it.
After hearing the amused comments during the livestream, I went ahead and added all the ship type illustrations I have inked from the 90s to the wiki. Glory in the rampant adorableness of their anthropomorphic stylings! See those ...
A little comedy today, at least in the link. Transcript follows.
Hi, all. Welcome to this episode of The Jaguar’s Heart.
A while back I was introduced to a comedy sketch about Cuban coffee by a Mexican comedian, Gabriel Iglesias. ( The sketch begins with him greeting all his fellow Latinos and then backing up to say ‘but we’re all different, aren’t we’ which is a segue into a demonstration of how different Hispanics speak Spanish.
It is hilarious. First, because I am a Spanish speaker and a linguistics hobbyist, and his portrayal of various accents resonated with my experiences in trying to make sense of them myself… Not always easy, since from culture to culture, slang and accent are often totally different (and sometimes grammar! Spaniards use a grammatical construct that has died out in many other Spanish-speaking countries, the plural “you.”)
I also loved it because the Cuban coffee part is real. I grew up with Cubans. I know how we are....
One of the most common things I hear (and say) right now is "the asymmetry is the story." Here's one about how none of us are innocent of the sins we hate in others.
Hi, all. Welcome to this week’s episode of The Jaguar’s Heart.
It’s been weeks since the Baen’s Bar incident and I’m still thinking about it... because the longer I do, the more I feel, overwhelmingly, that it’s obvious that the problem is deeper than “this forum was saying stuff that offended us.” We have to back up to the glaring fact that people on opposite sides no longer consider each other human. Nothing I say will matter because the people disagreeing with me don’t think I’m human. They have denied my humanity; they have not bothered to listen to my beliefs, or have fake-listened to them in that way that people do when they’re so ready to prove you wrong that they’re only using your speech to provide talking points for their own ideas.
We have forgotten how to listen.
Increasingly, we have also ...
There are a lot of things on my mind lately, and this year particularly because this month I hit a milestone birthday (what I call the decade birthdays!), and it’s been 25 years since my first professional fiction sale. To date, in that 25-year-span, I’ve published 71 books for adults, 3 for children, and 7 coloring books. I feel like this is a great start to a career, particularly given that some people don’t start publishing their first books until they’re closer to my current age!
So I’m satisfied that I’ve created a significant body of work. I’ve got the Peltedverse arc to wrap up, and some other projects I’d like to get back to, but I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished and there are enough finished series in that I don’t feel like I’m sitting on a giant mass of unfinished projects.
Which brings me to my birthday and my reflection on the industry and social trends. Every year since the indie revolution hit has brought some version of doom about discovery and organic reach and ...
Complete with homemade challah french toast (the challah is homemade). (Also the french toast.)
I guess if you weren't sure about buying a thing or leaving a review or telling a friend about a thing or taking the book quiz, there is no time like the present. Because it would be that, literally, a present. XD
Okay I'm loopy, I'm off to nap, I am so full. XD
I am home and recovering from a lovely Necronomicon 2025! Happily, this year was much busier than last, which got rained out by the hurricane three days prior. The scene in the halls was lively, and the panels actually had attendees! But it kept its cozy vibe, which meant I had plenty of time to do what I love best, which is talk to people.
This year I had both a writer’s alley table and art in the art show, and I volunteered for panels (and ended up on five of them!), so I was busy! Basically eight or nine hour days every day! By Saturday I was so hoarse I was putting honey in everything I was drinking. Never have I had more ample a demonstration that in my daily life I spend more time listening than talking than seeing how fast I ran out of voice when I had to talk.
My marketing thrust this year was getting people to take the quiz! I had a QR code and then I gave out colored dots that corresponded to the eight archetypes, and I had a leaderboard tracking what archetype was dominating. My biggest problems with this...
I was in a fine mood that evening, when I followed the scent of roasted meat to the cheldzan, the only building large enough for both clans to congregate… and even then, a handful of people had spilled from its entrance onto the road, where a second stewpot was sending delectable scents toward the lavender sky. I stopped beside it to receive a bowl and a flatbread scoop and wandered among the Jokka, listening to various conversations. A good half of the people there were eperu, which surprised me; somehow I thought of the third sex as the least populous. If I asked Winoña, would I discover that she’d counted all the sexes in the clans she’d met? I smiled.
The Jokka of Clan Edla recognized me, and wanted to talk—about injuries and sickness, yes, but also about recoveries and births—so the sky had set out stars before I finally made my way to the back of the cheldzan, where I found Daridil, Seper, and Koish in consultation. The lore-knower of Clan Edla, a spindly eperu named Dlona, made up the fourth in their discussion, and Winoña was listening behind the counter, wiping bowls.
“We are blessed here,” Daridil said. “Game is plentiful… the forest gives both fish and beasts, and water is for the taking. I once questioned the wisdom of staying, but the gods have made their will clear.”
“There’s enough for your clan,” Koish allowed. “I fear what would happen if we overburdened the area. The stories say that when we linger, we use up the sap of the land.”
“That won’t happen here,” Seper said. “We will be good stewards.”
“Do you even know what that will entail?” Koish said. “If you have too many mouths to feed….”
“Then, we find another way,” Daridil said.
“Probably by selling our excess members to clans who are failing,” Seper said briskly. “You know as well as we do, ke Koish, that many clans are hurting for labor and breeders. Particularly breeders. The nomadic ways are hard on us.”
Behind Koish, Dlona murmured, “Ke Seper has this right.”
Joining them, I said, “Are you trying to talk them into staying?” I smiled at Koish. “You know they have to make their argument.”
“They’re eloquent,” Koish said. “And if it were up to the clan, I’d probably have to move into that empty building tomorrow. But I have to do what’s right for them, whether it’s popular or not. And I’m not convinced. Although, I’ve heard something about a shrine?”
Daridil’s ears pricked. “Yes. To honor the gods and thank them for the gift of this place.”
“You can’t buy the favor of the gods,” Dlona said.
“Of course not,” Daridil said. “One honors the gods, one does not bribe them.”
“I like the idea.” Koish leaned over the counter and plunked his clay cup on it. “Give me a refill, ke anadi, and then Daridil and I will go talk. About fate and food, among other things.”
Winoña chuckled and filled the cup from a leather bag. “And so much useful discussion will be had after your… third, I believe? Cup of this?”
Koish snorted. “I brew my own spirits, ke Winoña. Your mild-tempered spirits will have to work harder to cloud my thoughts.” Raising his new serving, he gestured toward the door. “Daridil?”
“With you, ke emodo.”
Dlona watched them go with a long face, ears twitched backward. Then it sighed. “Do you have a spare cup, ke anadi? I think I may need it.”
“Trouble?” I asked.
The eperu eyed me, dour. “Everything under the sun and stars is trouble. It’s just a matter of how it arrives.”
Seper chuckled. “I’ll enjoy having you among us for the haul, Dlona.”
I looked from one to the other and canted my head. “It didn’t sound like Koish had made a decision.”
“Koish will make the right choice for the breeders, as he should,” Dlona said. “And the right choice is finding out if they do better here than abroad. And we know how they do abroad, so all that’s left is to discover how they do in one place. But I won’t take our wagon apart. In the case that we might need it.”
“I wouldn’t suggest anything else,” Seper said. “Let me take you to the new eperu. You’ll want to meet them. Then we can discuss the buildings, and our plans for the granary.”
Dlona’s eyes sharpened. “A granary, is it? Is that what the bricks are for?”
“Yes,” Seper said.
The other eperu grinned, showing blunted teeth. “Is it round?”
Seper laughed. “Yes, like in the stories. As you could probably tell me.” It canted its head. “You can tell me, can’t you? Nudet lost its lore-knower before it could pass on all that it knew to me….”
“We should write those things down from now on,” Winoña interrupted, earning stares from all of us. “We can,” she said. “We don’t need to be limited to tallies on knots, which makes sense for roving clans that can’t store anything permanently. We have space here to keep records. We should keep records.”
“On what, though?” Dlona asked, frowning… but not objecting. Thinking, from its expression.
“Leaves?” Seper said. “Bark, maybe?”
“The stories speak of clay tablets….” Dlona plucked at its braided arm ruffs, as if counting knots on a tally blanket. "They also speak of paper, but not how it was made.”
“Clay we have in plenty,” Seper said.
“We should make clay tablets, then,” Winoña said. “So that what happened to Nudet doesn’t happen again.”
Seper’s grin had a challenging air. “And will you have us carve you out a new cavern to keep these clay tablets in?”
“Why not?” Her chin rose. “I already have to keep records to run a cheldzan and a storeroom. Or haven’t you noticed me using paint on the walls for it?”
“I haven’t,” I said, startled.
Seper chuckled. “Have her show you, Kediil. Dlona, if you like? We’ll make the way easy for ke Koish.”
“By all means, introduce me. You’ve hired some new eperu since Clan Edla came through last.”
They departed, leaving me with a spinning head. “That is what it looks like, isn’t it? Koish doesn’t think he’s made a decision, but he has.” I thought of his concerns. “Or maybe he’s just saying what we want to hear?”
“I doubt it.”
Did he even know he’d changed his mind? I rubbed my brow. “Do things always happen that quickly?”
“When they do,” Winoña said, “it’s usually because the conditions favorable to those changes were already developing, unseen.” She threaded her fingers together and rested her chin on them, smiling up at me. “You have that look again, like I’ve said something you didn’t expect and you admire me for it.”
“And if I said… yes… would you be disappointed?”
She giggled. “No! I want you to look at me like that all the time! Come here behind the counter, I’ll teach you to serve drinks.”
“Is that hard?”
“No, which means we’ll have plenty of time to enjoy one another’s company.” She glanced past me at the people crowding her hall. “Look at them, Kediil. How often have you seen so many Jokka in one place?”
“Rarely,” I said. “It’s noisy and hot.”
“But alive,” she said. “It’s so good to see so much life in one place.”
I’d expected her to laugh. But this comment, stated with such fervor, made me look again, and see, for just a moment, through her eyes. The eyes that counted and saw fewer people too often. The eyes that looked now and saw vitality and promise and hope of some different, better future.
I longed for the wind on my cheeks and the horizon before my eyes. But how much of that longing had been shaped by my desire to escape the captivity designed for me by fate, or the gods, or my family… all of them?
I stepped behind the counter and bumped her hip until she moved over. “Teach me how to pour things.”
“Is this an excuse to let me teach you something you already know?”
“Yes?”
She laughed. “Well, if you love the sound of my voice that much….”
***
I did not have to seek out Koish; he found me behind the Nudet building, settling my rikka for the night. I straightened, tucking my loosened hair back behind my shoulders, and waited.
“Derra’s caught a child.”
He didn’t need to say anything else. I knew Derra, a fragile, easily tired anadi who longed for children and had only been able to bear one so far. If Derra had conceived, Clan Edla would stay where the risks to her pregnancy could be minimized. Two anadi pregnant and another with a toddler would make traveling difficult… and, coincidentally, give Koish and Edla status in the new settlement. Fruitfulness was admired, no matter where on Ke Bakil you traveled, and clans rich in breeding anadi were granted a deference that no other Jokkad could claim.
“Will you stay?” he asked. When I hesitated, he said, “Or come back to check on Derra through her pregnancy?” I could hear his smile in the dark. “You’ll know exactly where to find us.”
“Ke emodo…” I sighed. “Yes. I’ll check on her. I won’t promise to live here, but I’ll come back from time to time.”
“Thank you. I knew you would, just as I know you understand why I’ve changed my mind.”
“We all serve the breeders,” I said, as if I had scooped the words out of Mardin’s mouth.
“Yes. Good night to you, ke anadi.”
Melon shuffled toward the end of his stall to bump my shoulder with his muzzle, and I petted it idly, watching Koish’s body until I could neither see nor hear him.
Yes, I understood. And I feared that I had my own reasons to change my mind, because I was not ready for the future. Are we ever?
