Full Speed to a Crash Landing

As a follow-up to this review, I read the first book in the series, Beth Revis’s Full Speed to a Crash Landing.

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Basic idea: Rogue scavenger Ada Lamarr is trapped in a blown-out spaceship with her oxygen running out. She’s rescued by a very official ship named Halifax, which is investigating a crashed ship, the Roundabout. Ada happened to be looting that very ship, which make everyone very suspicious.

Most of the book centers around finding a MacGuffin, something that the Roundabout was transporting, and which both Ada and hunky government operative Rian White are after, for reasons we don’t know, unless we read the second book first.

I also read a bunch of reviews of, well, the third book in the series– which seems to be rather polarizing. Apparently the romance between Ada and Rian still isn’t resolved, and doesn’t even get beyond making out, and that really outrages people who took it as a romance.

There is a writing lesson there: don’t pull your punches. Maybe people watch too many TV series these days, and think drawing out the plot is a virtue. It probably isn’t even for TV. Let things happen. If it ruins your carefully planned character tension… let it, that’s what character tension is for, to break and reveal a new situation.

I’m not bothered by that angle, because to me, all you need to know is that these are Catwoman novels. We know what’s going to happen in one of those, right?

  • There’s a heist. Catwoman is very good at these.
  • Catwoman knows more than she lets on.
  • Batman is on the case. Because this is a Catwoman and not a Batman story, he doesn’t know the whole story and may be a bit of a big lug.
  • There’s some smooching, but come on, you know neither Catwoman nor Batman can commit to this relationship. Catwoman has to remain a bit of a bad girl and Batman is not going to, like, do heists with her for fun.

What does bother me a bit is the worldbuilding. There are only four planets in Revis’s universe, connected by portals. Fine so far, but then ships get lost or crashed all the damn time. Ada can make a career out of looting. There’s laws about looting (e.g. the Roundabout is fair game). How can four planets have a large enough economy that a steady supply of ships can be lost? What the hell are they transporting across space? A whole planet should have a really big economy. They don’t need scrap metal.

Revis has written novels and stories in the Star Wars universe, and I wonder if the story, and Ada’s character, were devised for that. A sub-economy of scavenging fits just fine in an entire galaxy.

Some readers also just don’t like the character of Ada. They think she’s too bratty or cocky. See Catwoman, above. Either you like rogues or you don’t, and if you do, a female rogue is more interesting.

Rather cheekily, the narrator in both books is Ada, and she does not let us in on her secrets till the end of each book. Normally you shouldn’t do this in a story, but I think this is a case where the rules can be broken. These books wouldn’t work as well as they do if we knew all along what Ada is after.

Fash Watch 4

I haven’t written one of these since April, and people have asked for an update. This is by no means complete; in fact it’s just what stuck in my mind. With this administration there is always something outrageous, stupid, and/or illegal every week.

(BTW, on my machines, WordPress has been absolutely awful. It’s either horribly slow, or I can’t update at all. If this continues I’ll have to move the blog.)

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Executive summary: Things are bad, especially the war on Hispanics. The GOP is still ruining the economy and trying to bully the world. But things are not going the Republicans’ way.

My feeling is that the Republicans have shown their hand: most administrations do most of what they can do within the first year. I think they will fall short of the Orbánist state they want: they’re getting significant pushback and the November elections showed that they’re hemorrhaging votes.

First let’s go over some positives. It’s important to avoid doomerism and to recognize that fighting back works. (That doesn’t mean that everything is or will be OK.)

The Democrats won big in the 2025 election.

  • California: Proposition 50 won, countering Texas’s gerrymander. For foreigners: normally seats are reassigned every 10 years. The GOP had the bright idea of doing it this year to try to pick up new seats by drawing absurd districts (‘gerrymandering’). Theoretically Texas would pick up 5 House seats for the GOP; now the Dems can pick up 5 Dem seats in California.
  • Democrats won the governorship and expanded their control of the legislature in Virginia, and kept the governorshi pin New Jersey.
  • 3 Dem judges retained on the Pennsylvania Supreme Court, keeping their 5-2 majority.
  • First statewide offices go to Dems in Georgia since 2006.
  • Mississipi: Democrats flipped two seats, ending a GOP supermajority.
  • New York City: Democratic Socialist Zohran Mamdani elected mayor; this is mainly a defeat for the stodgy old party establishment, and for pundits who think the Democrats are “too progressive.” NYC is an outlier, but Mamdani is extremely savvy and pragmatic, and his campaign for affordability was a winner.
  • Pennsylvania: Dems flipped Bucks County sheriff’s office and ousted all Reps from school boards. The county went for Trump last year.

Democrats have been taking school boards across the country; this is important because, decades ago, this was the strategy conservatives used to launch their 1980s resurgence.

Trump is wildly unpopular– his approval rating is 40%. As Paul Krugman has pointed out, authoritarians like Viktor Orbán were able to take power and attack democracy precisely because they were popular. It’s a lot harder when the majority is strongly against the would-be dictator.

Trump had a big public falling-out with Elon Musk, who sulked back to his companies and darkly threatened to start a new party. The good news is that this was pretty much it for Musk’s destroy-government project, DOGE; the bad news is that most of the damage is already done.

The Supreme Court has mostly allowed Trump to overthrow the rule of law, but at least they seem unimpressed with his declaring fake emergencies to levy tariffs. No final decision yet, though. (Two appeals courts have found his tariffs illegal.)

The Republicans got Jimmy Kimmel off the air for criticizing Trump, a chilling blow to free speech. But after widespread protests, he was back on the air after a little more than a week.

About 7 million people joined one of over 2000 No Kings protests in October— more than the previous event.

Trump has not been able to bully China. Xi Jinping holds the high cards here, largely due to China’s near-monopoly on rare earths… to say nothing of having the largest economy in the world (by purchasing parity). He’s also pissed off rather than intimidated India.

House Speaker Mike Johnson has been losing control over the House. An increasingly successful strategy is bipartisan groups using discharge petitions to force votes on their bills.

The Republicans, for years, built up hope in their base that the Epstein files would be released, presumably damaging their enemies. Once in office they released nothing. Then, this fall, Trump and Johnson both exerted enormous efforts to keep Congress from forcing releases of the files. This is pretty baffling: it annoys their own base, and makes everyone wonder what they’re hiding. It’s likely enough that nothing big is there: if there were anything that could be used against Democrats it would have been used months ago. (And if there were anything big against GOP , Biden would have used it.) It’s a mystery, and not a good look, why the GOP leadership tried to keep the files hidden. But also unsuccessful, which is a big defeat for Trump: Congress was willing to vote against him. To save face, he turned around and supported the release of the files.

On Trump’s Asia trip, many noted that he seemed to have trouble moving around, kept losing focus, and was more incoherent than usual. He seems to be experiencing an increasing cognitive decline. In the short term this probably is welcomed by the cronies and cranks who are handling him, since they can do as they want. In the longer term it’s a big problem for the GOP, since Trump is the glue that holds the party together. Though outsiders don’t see him as charismatic, his base sure does, and no one else has been able to do what he does.

On to the negatives.

On ICE’s campaign of terror, I can’t explain it better than this page does. Some quotes:

Every day my phone buzzes. It is a neighborhood group: four people were kidnapped at the corner drugstore. A friend a mile away sends a Slack message: she was at the scene when masked men assaulted and abducted two people on the street. A plumber working on my pipes is distraught, and I find out that two of his employees were kidnapped that morning. A week later it happens again. […]

On the night of September 30th, federal agents rappelled from a Black Hawk helicopter to execute a raid on an apartment building on the South Shore. Roughly three hundred agents deployed flashbangs, busted down doors, and took people indiscriminately. US citizens—some women and children—were grabbed from their beds, marched outside without even a chance to dress, zip-tied, and loaded into vans. Residents returned to find their windows and doors broken and their belongings stolen. Despite the violence of the raid, it appears no criminal charges were filed.

This is real fascism, and the only upside is that a lot of people who voted for the GOP are realizing that they don’t want this. The country needs immigtants, businesses need workers, Hispanics need to live in safety. Last year lots of Hispanics voted for the GOP; that shift was erased in this month’s election.

In previous posts I talked about the economic ruin caused by tariffs, hobbling education, impeding foreign tourism and study, alienating allies and China alike. The economy is propped up by AI boosterism, and that lools like it’s cracking.

But there’s a more insidious problem: the Republican goal is crony capitalism. There’s at least some amusement in letting the arch-libertarians at Cato explain it.

The administration has been bombing ships at sea. There have been threats to invade Venezuela, Colombia, and Nigeria (?!). Trump bombed Iran in June. Ironically such posturing annoys some of his base, which is not in favor of wars abroad.

Trump directed the Justice Department to indict his political opponents, notably former FBI director James Comey. As of this week this was falling apart, as the courts declared that his move of naming his personal lawyer as a federal prosecutor, bypassing the Senate, was illegal.

The Supreme Court has disallowed a few minor things (e.g. it ordered the return of Kilmar Garcia to the US— the administration is now apparently planning to deport him to Africa— and turning down a chance to undo its decision legalizing same-sex marriage), but it has done nothing to stop Trump’s power grabs, notably impoundment. (For the less politically obsessed: this means the executive ending programs at his whim that were authorized and funded by Congress. It’s illegal and unconstitutional: Congress decides what the laws are and how to spend federal money.)

The problems with having a demented toddler in charge are becoming evident. Trump held up a trade deal with Canada because a provincial governor ran TV ads he didn’t like. At the same time, thoes who know how to flatter and charm Trump become his favorites, even temporarily. Obviously the bad guys know how to do this most easily, but Mamdani got along with Trump surprisingly well. (Apparently he did this by being laser-focused on “affordability”, which Trump has belatedly realized is a big issue for Americans.)

Less than a week after the invigorating Democratic wins on November 5, eight Senate Democrats voted with the Republicans to end the government shutdown, widely seem as a pathetic betrayal. The Republican position on the government shutdown has been aptly described as “We’ll stop feeding poor kids until you let us take away millions of American voters’ health insurance.”

Climate change denialism continues. Of course it’d be pretty bad to ruin the ecosphere that keeps billions of us alive; but it’s truly idiotic to cede leadership on renewable energy to China. I don’t begrudge them their success— they’re making non-carbon-producing energy available all around the world. But it’s insane to cut back on our own promising renewables industry in favor of an all-in bet on climate-harming AI.

Oh, and just this week Trump has been pushing to end the Ukraine war by having Ukraine give into all of Putin’s demands. The details are readily available if you like stories where evil wins. However, the administration is now backpedalling furiously as Europeans, Ukrainians, and quite a few Republicans are objecting to Trump’s Putin-worship.

Krugman again:

The administration has been doing all it can to dismantle institutions, like the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, that were created to help keep investors and markets safe after the 2008 financial crisis. Scott Bessent, the Treasury secretary, and other Trump officials and allies — including some officials at the Federal Reserve — have also been doing all they can to undermine bank supervision, which tries to limit the kind of risk-taking that brought on the 2008 crisis.

The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare

For some reason Youtube started showing me clips from The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare. I liked them and then watched the whole movie twice. It’s a really fun movie and I recommend it to all my classmates.

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I can’t do much better than jwz’s review:

This is great. It’s basically Inglorious Basterds but funnier and without Tarantino’s weird tics. You wanna see a feel-good romp about some Nazis getting fucked up? Oh yeah you do. How does Alan Ritchson just keep getting larger?

Basic idea: retell the story of Operation Postmaster, a commando raid in January 1942 which secured two German tugboats and an Italian cargo ship which had been up to no good in Fernando Po (now known as Bioko)— Spanish territory, therefore neutral, off the coast of Africa. This was one of the first missions of the Special Operations Executive, which (more or less) was later incorporated into MI6.

The raid was led by Gus March-Phillips, played here by Henry Cavill. At least half the movie concentrates on Gus and his four fellow commandos: chill brainy Appleyard (Alex Pettyfer), wild-man Dane Lassen (Alan Ritchson), pilot Hayes (Hero Fiennes Tiffin), and explosives expert Freddy (Henry Golding). Gus describes all the men as “bad”, but one of the charms of the film is how extremely polite they are to each other. They’re ultraviolent against Nazis, but that’s how you have to treat Nazis. The film is from last year when maybe Nazis seemed more historical.

Now, two things you need to know to be in the right mood for the movie: 1) it’s comic, and 2) it’s a video game. That is, it is not a super-serious re-enactment of historical events. The real Operation Postmaster in fact had no fatalities. The action sequences in the movie are just one step beyond the fight scenes in Ritchson’s Reacher: cinematic demonstrations of beautifully choreogaphed, carefully justified force.

Some Internet comments have made fun of Ritchson’s accent, but a lot of this is I think based on the first scene— where he and Cavill are pretending to be Swedes to fool Germans. It’s intentionally over the top.

The other half of the movie concerns the spy work on land, focusing on the composite character Heron (Babs Olusanmokun) and the movie star turned spy Marjorie Stewart (Eiza González). Their main antagonist is the sadistic Nazi Luhr (Til Schweiger). All this is worth watching once— González in particular is very easy to look at— but I have to admit I fast-forwarded through it the second time. Marjorie basically has to seduce the Nazi commander to keep him distracted during the raid, which mostly involves some mutual recitations of poetry and verbal sparring… it’s all well acted, and very important to the plot, but not very satisfying.

(I think it’s the tonal shift that doesn’t quite work. When we’re juiced up by scenes of killing Nazis, trading repartee with one is jarring. And maybe director Guy Ritchie’s heart was just back on that boat. Also, honestly, there’s a structure problem here. The commander is important because he’s the commander, but he’s given little to do.)

There’s also a subplot involving British officers insisting to Winston Churchill that Britain should surrender to the Nazis. To my knowledge this is ahistorical, or at least anachronistic: by this time the Battle of Britain had been won and the US had already entered the war. It’s probably libellous to Admiral Pound, but he died in 1943.

I only bring up the historical facts because the movie will make you want to know them. It’s just a fun story well executed, with some really hilarious bits.

Falling toward stealing a galaxy

These two books have nothing to do with each other, except that I read them recently and neither needs a very long review. Well, and they’re both comic, and the second installments in series where I haven’t read the first.

HOW TO STEAL A GALAXY – Beth Revis (2024)

I’m a sucker for a good Catwoman story, and that’s what this is, despite being SF and not technically being about Catwoman. But it’s about a very clever female thief who has the hots for a straight-arrow near-cop, so it’s a Catwoman story.

It’s the story of a single heist. The thief is Ada, who has her own spaceship and likes to steal things for money, though if it accomplishes something good at the same time she is happy about that. The near-cop is Rian, who is apparently the only good guy to work for a corrupt government. The heist is to take place at a gala charity auction held on Rigel-Earth, where a Very Important Sociopath is the guest of honor. The target is… well, Ada doesn’t say until very late in the book.

In this universe there are portals between star systems, which has allowed humanity to colonize several star systems, with the somewhat odd habit of naming all their colonies after Earth. Earth itself, now Sol-Earth, is a mess– there was a supervolcano eruption, among other things– and needs saving, which is what the corpo bigwig is offering.

Now, this is Book 2 of a trilogy, and I haven’t read the first (I intend to). So I am missing some backstory, but it works as a standalone story. Rian and Ada met, or tangled, back in Book 1.

Does it work? Well, if you like heists and cat burglars, yes. It’s not deep but it’s fun, and Ada (as narrator) is snarky and intriguingly cocky. Plus it’s short, so not much of a time investment. The romance element is, well, about what you’d get in a Catwoman story: it’s probably doomed because of incompatible careers, but it’s a fascinating diversion for both parties.

FALLING TOWARDS ENGLAND – Clive James (1985)

This is a re-read… I don’t remember why I picked it up; probably because the first pages seemed fun. It’s autobiographical, or nearly so.

James was Australian, and the book covers his first two years in England, starting in 1962 when he was a very young and very immature 23 years old. James ended up as a poet, novelist, critic, and TV commentator, though in the period of the book there was little promise of that.

A sample, which gives a good idea of his rollicking style:

[The British hamburger] looked like a scorched beer-coaster or a tenderised disc brake. Flanked by chips which, if picked up individually on a fork, either shattered or else drooped until their ends touched, the British hamburger lay there sweltering under its limp grey duvet of over-fried onions. [After eating it], the British hamburger shaped itself to the bottom of your stomach like ballast, while interacting with your gastric juices to form an incipient belch of enormous potential, an airship which had been inflated in a garage. This belch, when silently released, would cause people standing twenty yards away to start examining the soles of their shoes. The vocalised version sounded like a bag of tools thrown into a bog.

Now, I’ve noted before that in American humor, the comic is the smart guy exposing a foolish world; in British humor, the comic is an idiot in a normal world. James is very much in the latter tradition: in his memoirs he’s irresponsible, a listless worker, constantly cadging money from everyone he meets, and a terrible drinker and smoker. (A terrible drinker not just because he drinks too much, but because he gets drunk abnormally fast.) Also he has terrible teeth and thinks he’s a poet.

I still enjoy the section where he gets one of his dead-end jobs: taking consumer surveys. Only no one on the street wants to answer them. He does get a full set of answers from one man, but it turns out he’s from Sweden, and the company only wants Brits. So he marks him as from Swindon and turns in the answers. Soon he realizes that the only way to get results is to make up all the answers. He’s caught when the statisticians realize that the answers are way too similar.

The book is a fascinating glimpse of Swinging London— the period when postwar London had regained enough prosperity to be fun and irreverent, but not so much that a near-broke Australian couldn’t join in.

The one bit that hasn’t aged well is his treatment of women. It’s not that he was abusive: everything was consensual. It’s that he was exploitative. He and everyone he knew let the women cook for them, give them money, put them up. He recognizes that this was a fault but I think sounds much worse today than he realized even while writing twenty years later.

Why Nations Fail

I just finished Why Nations Fail: The Origins of Power, Prosperity, and Poverty, by Daron Acemoglu and James A. Robinson (2012).

First, it’s technically Acemoğlu. The ğ in this case just lengthens the previous vowel. However, he doesn’t seem to use the diacritic professionally, so I won’t either.

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This is all about development economics, one of my fascinations… because it’s important for just about everything: why are some countries rich, how did they get that way, how do you make the poor countries richer, why is it so damn hard. My Almea+400 project can be said to be a rumination on the process for a fantasy world.

A&R’s book is a Theory of Everything, comparable to earlier attempts like Jared Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel, or Graeber & Wengrow’s The Dawn of Everything and Jane Jacobs’s The Economy of Cities. Oh, and stuff like The Wealth of Nations (Smith), the Communist Manifesto (Marx & Engels), and De la démocratie en Amerique (de Tocqueville).

As it happens their thesis is not hard to explain; what takes them 464 pages is to tell stories to back them up. Their basic idea: the difference isn’t due to geography or culture or religion or (ugh) ethnicity, but to institutions. The basic distinction is between extractive and inclusive.

Well, really, there’s a third category, which we can call unorganized. It’s where you start before agriculture, as no one is in charge; also where you end up if the state doesn’t control its own territory, as in Somalia or Haiti or Afghanistan. This condition has its points in the ancestral environment, but in modern times it basically means that life is controlled by armed clans or gangs, unable to best each other but always trying.

An extractive country is strong enough to control its territory, and what it does is extract all its wealth for the benefit of a small elite. Historical examples: almost everyone, from the Mesopotamians to the Romans to the Chinese Empire to medieval Europe to the Incas. Every single colonial state, except for the ones with settlers (Australia, Canada, the US). In modern times it’s the norm in South America and Africa. The Russian Empire, the Soviet Union, modern China.

As some of these examples hint, thanks to what they call the “iron law of oligarchy”, when an extractive system is overthrown, a new one often takes its place, using the exact same systems to benefit a different class of people. Many an African nation went from extractive local elites, to extractive colonial administrations, to new extractive local elites. Similarly Peru went from extractive Incas to extractive Spaniards to extractive local criollos.

An inclusive country is one with broader political power. This can start on the small side; an example is medieval Venice, where junior traders could partner with senior ones, working their way up. (The Venetians later closed off this route… and declined.) If all goes well, the process continues: more and more people are allowed power, their property is safeguarded, they can work as they like, they can implement new ideas without their work being expropriated. Power is too broadly based for new extractive classes to emerge.

Their prototypical example is the Glorious Revolution of 1688 in England, basically a coalition of city merchants and manufacturers and landholders opposed to the absolute power of the king. There had already been one revolution, which had simply substituted the rule of Cromwell for that of the king. This one kept the (new) king’s head but greatly limited his power. Ideally a “virtuous circle” is set up, where reforms can gradually incorporate the whole population into the ruling class. (Britain took 240 more years to get to full adult suffrage.)

A&R are big fans of creative destruction… which elites hate, because it threatens their extractive power. The rulers of Austria-Hungary and Russia, for instance, resisted railroads even in the late 19th century. The same idea persists today: e.g. the dictator of Sierra Leone actually ripped up a railroad that led to his enemies’ homeland.

(The term derives from Joseph Schumpeter, who saw competition and innovation as a core part of capitalism. Ironically, the term is probably most popular today among people who want to create new rent-seeking monopolies— i.e. people who want to forestall competition and thus creative destruction happening to them.)

A&R emphasize that an inclusive system will always grow and develop. An extractive system may grow– indeed, it may produce a burst of wealth, as the Spaniards received in the New World, or the Soviets in the decades after the Revolution. You can always catch up, apply existing technology, be more efficient. But it always peters out, because the elites are satisfied with being filthy rich and terrified of anything that can threaten their position. They’d rather throttle development than open up the system.

They have a somewhat sad final chapter where they explain why so many development schemes fail. It’s because they are band-aids on an extractive system and don’t address the underlying problem. You can give aid, you can educate, you can implore the elite to stop being corrupt, but the country remains in stasis. Some countries do change course (Japan, South Korea, Botswana, Brazil), but it’s really really hard… and outsiders generally apply very simplistic solutions. (E.g. holding elections doesn’t by itself produce democracy. Nor does, say, creating an “independent central bank”; they mention the central banker of Sierra Leone, who was simply murdered when he ventured to criticize the president.)

I think these terms, like the 1%/10% given to us by the Occupy movement, are going to be extremely useful in analysis. The first question about any country is “who is in control”, but the second question is “are they extractive or inclusive?” It’s clarifying, for instance, about the program of the Republican Party since 1980, which is to reverse inclusivity in the US and return to the extractive policies and narrow elite of the Old South.

Did anyone still think colonialism was a benefit? Colonialism was a horror. Typical episode: Cloves were once found only in the Ambon islands; the native king extracted cloves from the growers by forced labor and sold them to traders. The Dutch took over the islands and the forced labor. This was typical of what all the European states tried to do.

Just to the south were the Banda islands, the only source of nutmeg and mace. (These are both products of the same nut.) The Dutch took them over, but there were no native polities to take over, no one to coerce. In 1621 the Dutch solved this problem by taking a fleet to Banda and massacring almost the entire population, at least 15,000 people, leaving only a few survivors who knew how to cultivate the nutmeg/mace tree. They divided the islands into estates and filled them with slaves to work the nutmeg plantations.

16th century adventurers only wanted to apply the Spanish model: come in, take over already-extractive native institutions, and reap the profits. Almost amusingly, the initial founding of Buenos Aires failed, because the local natives were not organized into kingdoms that could be taken over. The founders moved to take over Paraguay instead. This was the model the English attempted in Jamestown, too, and it was a complete failure: the Native Americans refused to work for the colonists, and since these were not the type to work, most of them starved. The English colonies only succeeded once settlers willing to work replaced the conquistador wannabes.

Some points to refine the theory:

  • Societies changes in response to crises, what they call critical junctures. One was the Black Death, which killed half the population wherever it struck; the initial effect was to make labor more valuable.
  • Small differences can turn into big ones. In Western Europe, the Black Death led to better treatment of workers; in Eastern Europe the extractors were more powerful and created serf-based empires. The English government was unable to establish a monopoly on the Atlantic trade, unlike the French and Spanish; this created an opening for entrepreneurs in England. The success of Botswana in Africa is partly due to it being extremely marginal during the period of British rule, and to the assignment of mineral wealth to the independent state– and a government inclusive enough to use the largesse to benefit the people rather than an elite.
  • History is contingent— meaning that there is a certain random element.

Now, I have a few problems with the book.

They are very very good on the horrors of colonialism; they seem way less aware of the evils of neocolonialism. E.g., listing a long parade of extractive regimes in Guatemala, they write “Though [the dictator Ubico] was followed by a democratic regime in 1945, this was overthrown by a coup in 1954, leading to a murderous civil war.” Yes, that’s bad, but it’s not a matter of bad institutions in Guatemala, it’s because the US orchestrated that coup. They talk about dictators who took over after independence in Africa, without seeming to notice that it was the US and the Soviets who preferred dictators there and installed them routinely. This tragic farce mostly ended when the Cold War ended.

Or: they use Haiti as an example of an unorganized state. But Haiti wouldn’t be in the state it’s in if it weren’t for the crippling reparations to slaveowners demanded by France in 1825; Haiti was still paying this debt in 1947.

They’re generally pro-union and anti-monopoly, and mention the Civil Rights movement positively as a movement toward inclusivity; an unexpected hero of the book is Brazil’s Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, who helped build the coalition that ended the military dictatorship, and is now President. But they don’t even bother to defend their main thesis against, say, democratic socialism. They’re down on communism– OK, authoritarian communism is bad, but that’s not the same thing. They consider Britain as a hero of inclusivity… well, what about the horrible conditions of the coal mines in the 1930s, as reported by Orwell? They could answer that it was a consequence of the Depression, or that it was a scandal that extractive institutions persisted that long, but they don’t even address it. (Acemoglu was born in 1967 and sometimes it seems like his idea of the UK and US is formed by the 1970-2000 period.) If absolutist leaders are a plague, what about absolutist CEOs?

The book was written in 2012, so it doesn’t address Trump. But there isn’t any discussion of the Reagan/Thatcher move toward plutocracy, or the Republican campaign against electoral reform, regulation, health care, progressive taxation, and education for Blacks; not a word about productivity gains since 1980 going only to the 10%. In short, the return to plutocracy, which in their own terms is extractive. There’s a whiff of centrism and Anglosphere exceptionalism here– maybe they didn’t want to lose those blurbs from Niall Ferguson and Steven Levitt. (Both Acemoglu and Robinson have been vocally anti-Trump, and warned that the US could fail based on his retreat from inclusivity, democracy, and economic openness. Great, but these GOP tendencies weren’t unknown in 2012 and they just ignore that.)

The most interesting parts of the book are the in-depth discussions of various African and South American countries. Their treatment of China is however perfunctory. They take Mao as a disaster, for instance, which is superficial and arguably wrong. The 1950s were a huge advance for China: as they themselves recognize, China was an extractive mess which was unable to reform as Japan and South Korea had. The elite and foreign incursion had to be broken, and the Nationalists simply were not doing it. Mao did, and the country quickly modernized in the 1950s… largely because Mao left day-to-day rule to others. His Great Leap Forward and Cultural Revolution were disasters, but on the larger scale they were far less disruptive than Stalin’s disasters and Brezhnev’s stagnation. And though I broadly agree that political liberalization has to come, the Chinese are showing innovation in AI and renewables that isn’t simply “catching up”.

How does this interact with Diamond, Graeber, Jacobs, Ha-Joon Chang, Hernando de Soto, and Marx? To some extent you should just read them all and make your own synthesis. How nations develop need not be due to single factors.

Jacobs, for instance, ties differences in development to import substitution. This is not at all incompatible with A&R’s point of view; it’s good to note, however, that import substitution is not going to happen in a highly extractive society. The Japanese could do it because their merchant class already had a high degree of independence. In most of modern Africa, if anyone tried it, their profits and probably their businesses would be seized.

A&R disagree with Diamond’s explanations based on geography, pointing out that (say) Mexico and the southwest US, or North and South Korea, developed very differently despite having identical climates. But Diamond is not talking at that level; he’s addressing the question of where (say) agriculture should develop. A&R address this, tying it to sedentism, and suggesting that hunter-gatherers had to be “forced to settle down.” This is the weakest part of the book. James Scott should be required reading here: there’s no evidence that these early sedentary villages were tyrannical, and you just can’t order hunter-gatherers around like that. The transition took from wandering to sedentism to agriculture to civilization took literally 8,000 years. We can’t reconstruct all the stages, but there were undoubtedly many, and state coercion was one of the last steps, not the first.

A&R’s message is also fairly compatible with Hernando de Soto of Peru, who advocating for incorporating the bustling informal economy into the formal one, which was supposed to provide access to capital. Actual attempts to do so in Peru do not seem to have worked very well; as one scholar noted, “Titling must be followed by a series of politically challenging steps. Improving the efficiency of judicial systems, rewriting bankruptcy codes, restructuring financial market regulations, and similar reforms will involve much more difficult choices by policymakers.” De Soto doesn’t even appear in A&R’s index, which is a pity, since his approach is indeed to change institutions, and he had actual influence in Peru, but didn’t achieve the results he foresaw.

An alert reader pointed me to this very interesting critique of A&R. Some points I agree with– e.g. A&R seem incorrect about literacy in premodern Africa. But the critic doesn’t seem to have read very closely; e.g. he thinks that A&R only talk about Kongo and Somalia, but there are also extensive discussions of Sierra Leone, Ethiopia, South Africa, Egypt, Ghana, Nigeria, and Botswana. The critic talks about the king of Kongo mostly selling slaves acquired as war captives outside his territory, without seeming to realize that this is exactly what A&R say about African kings.

The article also complains that African “agency” is not respected and that premodern kingdoms were not as absolutist as A&R seem to say. This strikes me as enormously missing the point. Sub-Saharan Africa in general was oriented toward selling slaves (first to Arabs, then also to Europeans); it was unable to resist colonization; and it turned European extractive systems into native extractive systems. We can try to think better of those premodern states, just as we can try to find the good in the Aztecs: besides the slavery and cannibalism and self-mutilation, they were nice people. But whatever good we find wasn’t enough to stop those evils; and “agency” does not mean exoneration; it may also mean complicity.

A better critique might be that people reading A&R might just give up: if poor countries have bad institutions we can’t really change that, can we, and why should we try? A&R are not optimistic about foreign aid, much of which is wasted or appropriated by extractors; on the other hand, as they say, a lot of it saves people from dying and some help is better than none. Attempts by the US or IMF to change institutions have done little good, largely because extractive elites are not really interested in reducing corruption, respecting property, or inviting more people to share power.

A&R should be a lot clearer, I think, about how Western institutions have failed against neocolonialism. The West actually promoted or established many of those extractive local leaders, and threw them out if they attempted a more inclusive system (see my list of interventions!). The West has also been happy selling luxuries and weapons to dictators, or building expensive but misguided factories (see my Jacobs page). China is now getting into that game too, and competition is good, but I see no evidence that Chinese investments are more inclusive than Western.

Studies on development often tell us not so much what to do as what not to do. The positive note here is that A&R give us more arguments for democracy, egalitarianism, the rule of law, and empowerment of workers. It’s also more hopeful if bad outcomes are based on institutions rather than “culture”, because institutions can be changed. But quick fixes and even changes of regime generally are not enough.

From Bacteria to Bach and Back

I’ve just read Daniel Dennett’s last philosophy book, From Bacteria to Bach and Back: The Evolution of Minds (2017). My overall reaction is that it’s a step down. If you’ve never read him, instead try Consciousness Explained (CE, 1992) or Elbow Room: The Varieties of Free Will Worth Wanting (1984).

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Bacteria to Bach is long and ambitious, yet breezy and self-indulgent. He was 75 when he wrote it, and I feel like it shows. It’s a summarization of his lifelong views, and it often feels that he is tired of making these points to uncomprehending philistines– can’t they just admit they’re wrong? Unfortunately this attitude doesn’t produce the slow but scrupulously argued framework of CE, but long repetitive rants that assert rather than demonstrate his ideas.

Now, many of his ideas I completely accept:

  1. The mind is ultimately a machine: no immaterial substances are needed to explain it.
  2. This does not make it either deterministic or valueless. Our emotions, thoughts, values, and rational proofs are all still there.
  3. Minds ultimately derive from evolution.
  4. Evolution itself is a mindless process that mimics intelligent design. Because success is rewarded with reproduction, it is not entirely random, but can both innovate, and spread innovations.
  5. There is nothing wrong with speaking of biological features as having utility, and indeed design. There’s just no designer.
  6. Humans, at least, have a new quasi-Darwinian process of cultural evolution, which allows much faster innovation and spread of ideas, this one not tied to inheritance. You can’t grab another animal’s genes, but you can steal another culture’s ideas.
  7. Humans also have real intelligence– in effect we have an internal computer which lets us imagine and reason, a third way of producing good ideas (and some bad).
  8. Looking at cognitive abilities, we should always consider them as a continuum from mindlessness to full consciousness– not least because this is the only way we can understand how minds evolved. Searle-style insistence that understanding must be all-or-nothing and human-level is a mistake.
  9. The “Cartesian Theater”– the screen in the brain watched by a homunculus– is simply not there. There is no central control room in the brain, no organelle which we can label “consciousness.”
  10. Both introspection and perception can be fooled.
  11. Our beliefs or claims about our own consciousness must be taken with a grain of salt. A good example is syntactic knowledge: we follow grammatical rules that our brain knows, but which are not directly available to consciousness. (I covered this in the Syntax Construction Kit.) When we say we know a language, it’s true that our brain knows it, but “we“, our consciousness, are only part of our brain.

So, what don’t I like?

First, he has a pair of beliefs that seem to be both dubious and contradictory. One is that only humans have full consciousness: even bears and chimps, to say nothing of bees and bats and dogs and grey parrots and dolphins, may be without real comprehension, there may be no one at home there. The other is that our own consciousness is a user illusion— we do not have special insight into how our minds work, there is no such thing as qualia, and much of our apparent competence is not actually “ours”. It bubbles up from the brain and we take credit for it.

I don’t know why he wants this division between humans and other animals— it’s profoundly out of tune with the last century of biology. If you read Konrad Lorenz you’ll see the deep similarities between human and animal behavior… even down to the level of fish. He actually makes his central task harder– explaining consciousness– if he can’t grant it to dogs and chimps.

He wants to tie human abilities to language… OK, but when a grey parrot can learn 200 words, it gets a lot harder to draw this bright line. His idea is also strangely oblivious to his own repeated and correct point that aspects of human cognition must derive from something simpler.

His chapter on qualia has a bullying tone that gets on my nerves, e.g.:

By offering a sketch of the causes of Cartesian gravity, I have tried to help the unpersuaded find a vantage point from which they can diagnose their own failures of imagination and overcome them.

Sometimes a disagreement does derive from a failure of imagination, but you have to show it, not assume it.

What Dennett is asking for is pretty much what philosophy, and some religions, have been asking us for 2500 years: to understand that we can be fooled, that our mental imagery might be fake. Plato made the same point with his cave analogy, Descartes with his malicious demon. That we don’t really have a soul, but are only a place where perceptions swirl around, is longtime Buddhist doctrine; also Humean doctrine.

It’s a point of view, but I’m always reminded of Samuel Johnson’s response to Berkeleyan idealism: kicking a stone, he says “I refute it thus.” I’d read one anti-qualia passage after another, then look around my bedroom at the exquisite picture of the world presented by my personal brain, and start to wonder, doesn’t Dennett have that? Or: Does he think ChatGPT has that?

Yes, we have dreams, hallucinations, optional illusions, mistakes in perception. But the common-sense perspective that these errors don’t matter much is not disproved. CE actually started with a very convincing argument that the “brains in vats” scientists have an immensely difficult task in front of them. One can recognize that the brain is creating our perceptions rather than just passing them along, but the amazing thing is not that our perceptions can be fooled, but that they’re as good as they are.

See also Anil Seth‘s book on consciousness, which offers the intriguing idea that perception is far more top-down than we might expect. That is, our perceptions are a creation of the brain, which after all is imprisoned in a dark bony cavity with only nerves coming in. We see things, but not with light: there’s no light in the brain. Rather than simply building up a picture of the world from sense data, the brain is creating that picture, then testing and confirming it with sense data.

Dennett reproduces an optical illusion: a color-reversed American flag. If you stare at it for 30 seconds, then look at a blank page, you will see a “properly colored” illusory American flag. It’s an effect easily explained by neural anatomy: nerves exposed to the same stimulus get tired: stare at the green stripe long enough and it looks less green. When you stare at the white page afterward, that part of your visual field is temporarily discounting green, and what that looks like to us is red.

Dennett asks, with the air of producing a gotcha, if the red stripe we see is really red. But it’s a meaningless question. Of course it’s an illusion, there is no stripe in the world, and no redness. Is there a “red stripe” in the brain? There’s a representation of one, yes– just as there was a representation of the “real” green stripe. Why is the difference important? He could go on to show, as C.L. Hardin does, that the stripe on the page need not be green either. (In a printed book, green is produced by a mix of yellow and blue dots.) The “green” is in our eyes or brain. And, well, so what? These things and these illusions are interesting, fun to think about, but don’t actually disprove qualia… they are qualia.

Back in CE, Dennett had some excellent critiques of the Cartesian Theater. E.g. he points out that we literally cannot see in the region of the visual field interrupted by where the optic nerve pushes into the retina. There’s a quite large gap there, a gap we do not perceive. He argues convincingly that it’s wrong to say that the brain fills in that gap. The brain only has to answer questions that it asks, so to speak. There is no part of the brain that asks or needs to be told what’s in that gap.

Part of the answer to this is saccades: the eye is constantly moving, so what’s on the retina is not a fixed image anyway. The brain turns that ever-changing kaleidoscope into what looks to us like a fixed image. But it’s not correct to say that our perceived image is high-resolution. Rather, the brain uses a trick: when it needs to (e.g. for reading), the eye gets a lot of detail, by aiming the high-res part of the retina, the fovea. Because whatever we’re looking at is hi-res, we are not aware that the rest of the visual field is lo-res. We have to be very careful not to treat as facts things we merely suppose about our qualia. That is, just because we’re not aware that our perception is lo-res except for a moving hi-res spot, doesn’t mean that our perception is “really” hi-res.

But the later Dennett seems to have mislaid the plot, denying things that don’t need to be denied. Surely it’s not satisfying to explain bits of consciousness (qualia) by just writing them out of existence. If a mental patient said some of the things Dennett does, they’d be hospitalized. (There are mental conditions where a person thinks they’re dead, or blind, or their legs don’t belong to them.)

The other bit I don’t care for is his extended discussion of memes. He wants to use these to explain cultural evolution, but he never succeeds in showing why memes, in particular, help out. I think he’s seduced by Dawkins’ original parallel to genes, which he famously called selfish: genes can be reified as things that have goals of their own, using animals (and plants) to reproduce themselves! (Biologists way over-emphasized genes in the 1990s.) Likewise memes can be seen as idea-complexes that colonize our minds for their own benefit, that benefit being defined in terms of mutation, and competition to reproduce.

The problem is, Dennett does not actually show that this notion explains anything particularly well, besides what “memes” mean in popular discourse: viral jokes. You can get a frisson of contrarian thrill by picturing ideologies and religions as memes, pointing out that they usually contain antipatterns that facilitate spreading the idea and discouraging abandoning the “faith”. Fine, I included a whole chapter on “stickiness” in my Religion Construction Kit: it’s a useful question to ask not just what a belief system says, but what’s attractive about it and how it protects itself. But memes as an idea… memes as a meme… are strangely underpowered. They seem mostly to be a way of disparaging an idea we don’t like. I don’t think Dennett ever calls evolution itself, or the scientific method, or Bach’s piano music, memes. You don’t need the catchy name to get across the idea that useful ideas spread, or even to point out that “useful” may be a loaded term here.

He tells us that words are memes, in a way that suggests a gotcha that never comes. All in all he talks about language in a way that belongs more to the 19th century than the 21st. It’s profoundly un-linguistic to talk about languages or words competing with each other, and the “better” ones winning. People and nations compete with each other, but neither languages nor words do. Does it mean something that we say “dog” and the Spanish say “perro” and the Japanese say “inu”? No, it really doesn’t: it’s effectively random. Sound and symbol are (usually, not always) separate; none of these words are better and none of them compete.

Now, Spanish replaced Latin “canis” with “perro”. Aha, evolution by natural selection! Only, no. Meanings change, words are borrowed, but “perro” is not better in any way, it did not win the meme wars. Language change is largely value-neutral. Memetics is the cryptocurrency of culture studies, a solution in search of a problem.

If you insist on thinking about the origin of language— generally a futile, self-deluding pursuit– Dennett offers some other, better ideas. E.g. it’s worth recognizing that early language must have been impoverished yet still had to be useful, for either genetic or cultural evolution to boost it. It would not have started with a mastery of 10,000 words… probably not even 1000. His idea seems to be that words started as viral bits of repetition: it was faddish or fun to reproduce these eructations. I don’t see that as compelling, but as a conlanger I do want to ask: what’s the minimal near-language that’s useful? It has to be far far simpler and easier than pidgins, and probably within spitting distance of primate calls and gestures.

Dennett does have other useful insights. E.g. he quotes Emerson Pugh: “If the brain were so simple we could understand it, we would be so simple we couldn’t.” So, maybe the brain is too complex for a human to understand. But he goes on to ask: is it too complex for a group of people to understand? It’s an excellent question. A lot of pop history of science is about lone geniuses, but most advances today are made by small teams… or large teams. Maybe consciousness will turn out to be something that, in effect, requires a whole university to understand.

His central insight from CE is also worth retaining. There he posited that language allowed people to ask each other questions. If this became automatic enough, they could ask themselves questions when they were alone, at first out loud. We can still do this, and it works! It focuses the brain on the question and sometimes an answer pops out. We can imagine the process improving by both genetic and cultural evolution until we get our modern internal stream of consciousness.

The last chapter is on AI, long one of his preoccupations. It’s interesting to see his reaction to early deep learning. Kind of unfortunately, he was writing about 5 years before ChatGPT came out. So he is simultaneously a bit breathless about how great the AI of 2017 was, and skeptical about how good it could get. But he does, to his credit, recognize the problems of overinterpretation:

The real danger, I think, is not that machines more intelligent than we are will usurp us as captains of our destinies, but that we will over-estimate the comprehension of our latest thinking tools, prematurely ceding authority to them far beyond their competence.”

He suggests that AIs, like medicine, should come with long lists of possible shortcomings, and that “systems that deliberately conceal their shortcuts and gaps of incompetence should be deemed fraudulent, and their creators should go to jail”. Too bad no one listened to that.

Carroll & Feynman on physics

A few years ago I got interested in quantum mechanics, and read a whole bunch of books about it. All very interesting… QM is a major mindbender… but now I can recommend the best three books about physics for non-physicists.

The first is Richard Feynman’s QED: The Strange Theory of Light and Matter. The others are by Sean Carroll, under the series title The Biggest Ideas in the Universe; vol. 1 is Space, Time, and Motion; volume 2 is Quanta and Fields. There’s supposed to be a volume 3 but it’s not done yet.

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The reason these three are the best is simple: they don’t hide the math. QM is not a something you can ultimately grasp with words and metaphors. It’s a big pile of math and what reality it has lives in the equations, not the theories. However, the math is frigging hard. As Feynman says, it takes four years of undergrad and four years of grad school to understand the math. So what do the rest of us do?

Feynman’s approach is to use close graphic analogies. He introduces vectors as arrows, cruises through vector arithmetic (adding arrows or changing their length), then spinning them– all things that can be easily grasped, because they can be easily drawn. You take the final arrow and square it. That gives you a probability, which is all that QM deigns to give us about the world.

This is actually quite clever, because you’re nearly working with the mathematics. Numbers and geometry have many and very deep interrelationships… the arrows really are vectors, the spinning brings in frequency, and squaring the arrow is actually squaring a probability amplitude. As Feynman says, this is real physics, it’s just leaving out the scutwork that you learn as a student to let you to calculate more than toy problems.

Feynman was writing over 40 years ago, and one big surprise is that the particle zoo is almost identical to what he describes in chapter 4. (The masses of the particles are a bit different.) No new families of quarks or leptons have been discovered, and the only major particle to have been discovered since is the Higgs boson. (Well, the top quark was theorized already, but only discovered in 1995.) Astonishing, we still don’t have a good theory of quantum gravity.

I always wished Feynman had written a Volume 2 giving more details, a slightly deeper view. He never did, but Carroll’s books are an excellent follow-up. He’ll not only explain what the graphicized math in QED really was, but he’ll explain how the rest of physics works (i.e. the strong and weak fields and gravity).

Carroll’s approach is to give you the math, but in skeleton form. He gives you real equations, plays with them using not much more than algebra, and explains all the parts. Again, the calculations and the actual math tricks are left out. But he goes pretty deep into the mathematical weeds.

Other books tell you about the Schrödinger equation. He gives it to you… in its simplest form it looks like this:

Ĥψ = iħ(∂ψ/∂t)

It is, you will learn, a Hamiltonian operator (that’s the Ĥ) operating on a partial differential equation. No fear, he’ll tell you what those things are.

Don’t know calculus? That’s OK, he teaches you what it is in volume 1. I found the refresher on partial differentials particularly useful. You differentiate with respect to just one variable, treating the others as constants. Sounds like a weird thing to do, but it comes up all the time in QM.

Does his approach work? Um, maybe 50 to 75%? The thing is, there is a lot to cover, so the presentation is pretty breezy. He’ll explain nicely what a Hamiltonian or a Lagrangian is, how the momentum field works, what a tensor is… I nod, and next time they come up I’ve forgotten, or have to go back to re-read. But you might do better at that than I do. Or worse.

But sometimes I think it works. E.g. Carroll has the best explanation of renormalization I’ve ever read. (Feynman called it a “dippy process”, but physicists seem pretty happy with it now. The process avoids calculations that go to infinity, but this only happens at absurdly small distance scales, and it’s fair to say we don’t know how the universe works at those scales.)

One of the surprises of volume 1 is the multiplicity of ways to think about space. You usually start with Cartesian coordinates, the famous orthogonal x y z. You can also use, instead, spherical coordinates, identifying points by specifying two angles and a radius. You can formulate the laws of physics equally well in both systems, and sometimes the spherical coordinates make a problem easier.

Yet another approach is Hamiltonian mechanics. Here you take a particle as having two vectors, one specifying position, one specifying momentum. In this approach momentum is not mass times velocity, it’s just a fundamental property of the particle. You can derive the laws of motion from the Hamiltonian equations. (Why would you do that? Well, Hamiltonian operators are a key aspect of the Schrödinger equation.)

You get a similar succession of viewpoints on volume 2. First, everything (including photons and electrons) are described as waves, using the Schrödinger equation. Then, using Feynman diagrams, they turn back into particles. Then, using quantum field theory, particles turn out to be excitation states in universal fields.

This all makes one of Carroll’s choices seem a bit odd. He explains that there are different ways to interpret QM, and that his preferred way is to take the Schrödinger waveform ψ as “real”, and take waveform collapse as real too. The Schrödinger equation has nothing in it to make it “collapse”; indeed, on its own, it makes particles kind of diffuse outward forever. In reality we get measurements at specific locations, and they do not diffuse out forever.

Yet by his own account, the Schrödinger equation leads you to a probability amplitude that you have to square to get the probability of a measurement at any particular position. It’s exactly the same thing as Feynman’s arrows. There just seems to be no reason not to take the equation as Feynman does: as the way we do predictions. We don’t know the “reality” behind the equation; maybe there is none. Reifying ψ just leads you into confusions and unanswerable questions about what a measurement is. Simply not doing that avoids all the confusion. And besides, later in the book you’re not even using the same model, you’re using quantum field theory under which the electrons etc. aren’t either waves or particles, but excitation states…

Another curiosity: Carroll tells us that virtual particles aren’t real either. There are reasons for this, but he admits that you have to put them into the Feynman diagrams anyway, to get the right result. I’d say everything but the math itself it kind of unreal, stuff you have to do to get predictions. It’s like Feynman’s discussions of why light doesn’t have to go in straight lines, or go at the speed of light. These strictures sound so basic and correct that it’s hard to let go of them, but it’s not actually what the laws of physics say. (For an explanation read QED!)

So anyway, read Carroll for the breathtaking high-speed tour of physics with real (though not detailed) mathematics. It’ll make every other physics book feel like a cheat. But don’t get too caught up in worrying about “what is real.”

One more thought: though Carroll is good on QM, I wouldn’t say he’s great on relativity. Relativity really can be explained without much math, concentrating on the weirdness of the speed of light. He does explain it, in volume 1, but he’s more interested in telling you how spacetime works.

ZBB: gotta log in

If you are smart enough to check here for updates on the ZBB, here is an important one: I’ve had to turn off read access for guests and bots. This is because we’re swamped with “guests” at all times, which causes errors for the actual humans reading the board.

I’m open to better solutions, but phpBB doesn’t provide many. These are not actual users, so things like captchas don’t work. There may be some htaccess magic, but someone would have to provide me the exact change needed.

If you want an account just to read, contact me. I’m assuming the signup process is still accessible.

The Untold Story of Books

I just read Michael Castleman’s The Untold Story of Books: A Writer’s History of Book Publishing. It’s great, and you all should read it, especially if you write. Or read. I had to read it twice in fact, once to take notes for this post.

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Bottom line: There was never a golden age for writers, it’s always been dire. Castleman divides up the print era into three periods:

  • 1450-1875: An era dominated by printer/publishers. One of the big surprises here is that authors were rarely paid. Quite the reverse: authors paid publishers to get their books in print. Just to ram the point home: for four hundred years, writing meant self-publishing.
  • 1875-2000: What people think of as “traditional publishing”. Authors were never exactly treated well, but the most popular could earn a living at it. Toward the end, thanks to over 300 mergers, “publishers” were simply branches of five megacorporations.
  • 2000 on: The digital era.

The most amusing bit is that at pretty much every point in this history, people were worried that the latest technologies were ruining morality, culture, literature, or reading. This includes the invention of printing itself, which governments thought would inspire sedition, and clerics thought would spread heresy. Arguably both were right: printing democratized knowledge, spread Protestantism and the idea of democracy, and was a necessity for the advancement of science.

When pulp paper was invented, in the 1840s, it was a revolution in access, perhaps more so than print itself. Copying a manuscript could take a year and cost the equivalent of $75,000. In the early US, most books were imported, the equivalent of $600 each. In Civil War times, pulp publishers introduced the dime novel, the equivalent of $3 today. The workers could now read, and naturally the middle and upper classes despised the “pulps” that they read.

I do not think there will be any novels… in fifty or a hundred years from now… They are not necessary, and even now their merit and their interest are fast declining.

That’s a quote from 1902, from Jules Verne. In 1913 Leslie’s Weekly lamented that “people don’t read books any more.” The culprits in this case were radio and movies. As the Atlantic Monthly said in 1925, “If [people] spend an evening… listening to the radio, there is no time left for a good book.” In the 1960s the bogeyman was television; Marshall McLuhan declared “Clotheslines, seams in stockings, and books– all are obsolete.” Today, of course, it’s the Internet and cell phones.

Amid the doomsaying, the number of books printed has constantly grown. The number of titles published in the US in various years:

1790s: 1,300
1880: 2,700
1897: 4,484
1914: 12,010
1959: 14,876
1969: 29,579
2021: 2.7 million (not self-published: 400,000)

The first copyright law in England dates to 1710; the term was 14 years. Printers hated it… till they got authors accustomed to giving them the copyright. Till almost 1900, everyone pirated everyone else. American publishers sent men to Europe to scoop up the latest books and hustle them on fast boats back home. As soon as their editions appeared in New York or Boston, publishers in the rest of the country pirated them. There was no effective international copyright till 1891.

Castleman shares some data that made me feel better about self-publishing. He’s “traditionally published”, and his income from writing is $12,000 a year. I make more than that… not a hell of a lot more, but more. I’m apparently in the top 2% of self-publishers, those with a title that sells over 5,000 units. (I’ve sold over 54,000 total books.)

Some factoids

  • Gutenberg went bankrupt.
  • In Gutenberg’s time, in all of Europe, there were about 10,000 books total. In 1600, 150 million.
  • The first press in the Western Hemisphere was in Mexico City, 1529. The first in the British colonies, in 1638.
  • In 1685 the king of England ordered the governor of New York to ban printing presses. Didn’t work.
  • The next king allowed freedom of the press in England (1695). This didn’t apply to the Colonies.
  • Women have always been the biggest readers. Since WWII women buy 2/3 of trade books, 3/4 of novels.
  • The biggest booksellers in the first half of the 20th century were department stores. Bookstores didn’t sell paperbacks till after WWII.
  • E-book sales have declined since 2011.
  • The number of bookstores has nearly doubled since 2009. But author incomes have dropped 50%.

Some timeline data:
1690: Before this date, paper to print books had to be imported to the Colonies.
1783: First real US copyright law. Of 13.000 books published in the next decade, only 556 were copyrighted.
The Library of Congress was for years hosted in the library founded by Benjamin Franklin.
1800: Books made from cotton paper. Previously it was linen and flax.
1803: Ink produced in the US. Before that it had to be imported.
1810 or so: First booksellers who were not printers. (Previously printers would have shops to sell their own books.)
1830s: Rotary presses allow tens of thousands rather than hundreds of pages to be printed per hour.
1875: first literary agents. By WWI this led to things like advances and written contracts.
1884: linotype (allowing an entire line of type to be set at once).
1890: Instead of leather covers, cardboard with full-color paper wraparounds.
Better paperbacks appeared after WWI; trade paperbacks in 1953.

Trying out the infamous chatbot

Out of curiosity, I’ve been testing ChatGPT. I never had a chance to, because they required a mobile phone to access it. Now I have one, and it turns out that you don’t need it anymore. No matter, let’s see what it can do.

I’m mostly interested in what it can and can’t do. Might as well give the overall verdict up front: it’s astonishingly competent in some areas; fails spectacularly in others. (I’m not writing here about whether AI or LLMS are good or evil. I’ve given my opinion on that before and probably will again.)

Fair warning: some people really hate ChatGPT transcripts, and I understand: I hate to see them on (say) Metafilter, where humans are supposed to be the ones talking, even if they’re talking crap. So there will be a lot of that here (and I’m not including all my questions, nor all of its responses). I’ll put the rest of the post behind a More block.

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