The iPad: Is it medium or is it the message?

by
Scott D. Parker

The iPad drops today. In case you haven’t heard, it’s the Savior of the Publishing Industry. Or so you’d be led to believe (and the publishers hope). The iPad’s e-reading capabilities are one of the top selling features of the machine as well as the new iBookstore. Marvel Comics has a comic-reading app I seriously want see. I could easily envision myself reading more comics using a device like this. The same for magazines. And, yes, I would pay for subscriptions.

For all the acolytes of the iPad, there are a number of doubters about the e-reading capabilities of the iPad. Stephen King, in his column for Entertainment Weekly, thinks that there’s a “not-thereness” to e-reading. Cory Doctorow doesn’t like the device too much, not for the e-reading aspect, but for the closed-shop nature of the iPad.

All of this chatter about e-reading and e-books and e-magazines and e-comics got me to thinking about something fundamental. Both Chris and Mike commented on it last week. Lots of people want the artifact, the proof of purchase, if you will, the proof that you’ve experienced the Whatever (i.e., the reading of a book; the watching of a movie; the hearing of music).

When you buy a book and read it, you have the proof, right there on the shelf. The more books you read, the more artifacts you have on your shelf. For many people, myself included, a home isn’t a home until I have bookshelves full of books.

In one way of looking at it, however, books are like the t-shirt you buy at a rock concert. When a rock show really thrilled me, I used to buy the t-shirt (the medium) and wear it the next day. Then, folks would see my t-shirt and ask about the show. I’d extol them with every guitar lick, brass line, and light trick (the message). The shirt (along with the ticket stub) was my artifact, my way of remembering the experience of the concert.

The internet in general, and blogging in particular, changes this equation and the medium. My “concert t-shirt” is my review of something I experienced. It’s a way for me to explain why I liked/disliked something. Likewise, when y’all read my stuff, we can get into a conversation and discover new ways to think about common things.

Blogs are not published (in a traditional sense). They are published in a new sense. They are posted with a time and date stamp. They’re out for everyone and anyone to read. They are digital, etherial, not there. I can’t autograph a particular post I wrote that you really liked. All you can do is tell me you liked it and why and then tell others. Coming up on Tuesday here at Do Some Damage, we have a flash fiction challenge. Those stories will be published but there will be no artifact for your bookshelf. And you’ll be reading them on your computer. There’s no way around it. I’ll guarantee you that you’ll read at least one story that’ll make your day.

Folks who frequent libraries don’t have artifacts either. I’m a library power user. Like some who commented on my main blog this week, I know the librarians’ names and they know mine. It’s wonderful. I can assuage my thirst for wide variety of tastes in music, movies, and books. I can try something before I decide to it. More than once, I’ve purchased something that I first read from the library.

But if the story you’ve experienced (by reading/watching/listening) is something special, having the artifact isn’t always required. Is it? I just finished reading China Mieville’s Perdido Street Station. It blew my mind. It’s going to go down as one of those pivotal books in my reading life. I don’t have the artifact. I checked out the book from the library and listened to most of it as an audio file. Yet, I still have the experience. It’s internal and special, only to me. I can share why I liked it so much but I don’t need the artifact to do that.

This is a ironic post, to be honest. Here I am, a yet-to-be-traditionally-published author, one who hopes you’ll buy my books in the future, talking about why physical artifacts are not really necessary. I don’t think they are. The story is the key. Who cares about the delivery device? I think the savvy author in this decade and this century needs to be fluent in different delivery methods. Up until the internet, books had cornered the delivery device market. Now, in the 2000s, the delivery devices are expanding and also fragmenting. We writers have to write a damn good story. Period. That’s the fundamental rule. It’s only later we’ll have to figure out how to get it to the eyes and ears of all our readers. Some readers will want the artifact. For them, there are books, a medium that will never die. Some won’t care. For them, e-reading or audiobooks are the way.

Despite what Marshall McLuhan says, the medium (i.e., the artifact) isn’t always the message. Sometimes, the message (i.e., the story) is the message.

But not today. Today, with the iPad, the medium *is* the message.

Everyone's a Critic

By Russel D McLean

Those of you who don’t know, as well as writing short stories, when I started out in the crime fiction world, I also did a lot of reviews. I still do, although my style of reviewing is very particular and rather detailed, so I tend not to go as fast as I did in the days before my own deadlines.

But reviews are funny things. When I first started out, I was very kind. I swiftly realised that even when you try to be nice, you still get in trouble. Like the author who wrote what was probably one of the most clichéd and appalling serial killer books I ever read. Who I was very kind to in the review (this was when I was starting out) all things considered, but took me to task because I said that her serial killer was no Hannibal Lecter. “He’s not supposed to be – he’s Ted Bundy!” came the outraged reply along with a piece about how some reviewers just “don’t get it”. Just as well I never put in the parts about the clunky dialogue, the unbelievable sentence construction and the horrendously clichéd plot. From any angle, these were problems with the work, but back then I was too young and timid to acknowledge that I was probably right on these matters.

Actually, this experience taught me to be more honest in my reviews, to find an approach that felt natural for me and to hell with people’s egos.

I approached the idea from a slightly academic standpoint. What I was taught during my postgrad in philosophy about reviewing was this: try and understand what a work is trying to do, and then argue whether it is successful.

It’s a maxim that informs all my reviewing. I have my personal tastes, but what I try to do is remain objective. I try to figure out what the author was trying to do and work from there, give over my honest reaction as a reader who wanted to engage with the text, to lose themselves in the author’s world.

A successful approach?

I like to think so. Of course, sometimes it gets me in trouble. A few people pulled me aside for a review I once gave that said the author was a fine writer but came unstuck with a frankly unbelievable conclusion to what had been a very grounded tale up until the implausible third act. I said, “But I fully admitted in the review that the book was well written, and the characters developed, but this ending just felt so out of left field and unlikely that it left a slightly strange aftertaste; I didn't believe it because of the set up that preceeded.”. But, no, I was being critical. And this, for some folks any criticism is a no-no.*

The truth is that these days I will rarely review a book I hated. Just because there’s no point. I will criticise novels, of course. I know – especially after that early experience – that trying to be relentlessly positive isn’t my bag. And I think if you wear your heart on your sleeve, readers - and its for readers that reviewers review, not neccasarily the authors - react to that, and know when to take your word and when they'll probably disagree with you. I have been emailed by a few authors thanking me for an “honest appraisal” of their work, and its true; if there are faults, I will point them out, but I try to remain balanced while doing so. The worst thing a reviewer can do is be spiteful. Yes, you can say a book is bad, but only if you can come up with genuine reasons why. One of the trends I hate in certain revioewing circles is the self-congratulatory put-down that is intended to show the reviewer's wit rather than honestly appraise the novel.

A couple years back a reviewer friend of mine got into trouble for doing a semi-negative review of a book everyone loved. Some nasty things were said over the review which was – while I didn’t agree with it – a valid review. It was not nasty for the sake of it, and every time a negative point was made it was backed up with examples and readings of said examples. Again, I didn’t agree, but I could understand the other reviewer’s point of view. But then, maybe you have to be or have been a reviewer to understand that. I am amazed by how many reviewers, at least in my circles, email each other asking, "Am I being harsh?"

Here’s the thing; if we can’t, as writers, take professional - or even semi-professional - criticism, how the hell are we going to deal with those readers who don’t like our work? The ones who post those incredible one star reviews on Amazon? Who shout from the rooftops (and the blogs) their insane unformed opinions? Or even the professional reviewers who are genuinely unhinged?** God forbid, how will we deal with editors, as in the ones who do their job?

Criticism is a necessary part of the artistic process, of the continuing conversation between artist and observer, writer and reader. It is not always going to be pleasant. But it should be informed, civil and freed from the ego of the reviewer. I am, of course, talking ideals here, and even I probably don’t always meet them, but I try my best and that is all we ask of any reviewer. That they react honestly to a text.

And, hey, if you do get a few stinky reviews, laugh it up. Brad Meltzer's clearly got the hang of dealing with his critics:




*I review for at least one market who asks for positive reviews, but my arrangement there is that any book I can’t be positive about, I don’t review. Its simple as that. I won’t lie just to increase book sales. And in fact, I believe that lack of honesty in some reviews is what leads to jaded readers.

**Like a certain reviewer who has taken on 2 members of DSD and taken swipes at them in the most ill-informed and idiotic manner fuelled by genre prejudices and personal hang-ups.

Teachers

by Dave White

I have a theory.

From what I've seen written and heard said, people who are successful rarely remember the good teachers they've had. They remember the teachers who tried to "hold them back" or suggested they couldn't do something.

They remember the bad things. And they use that motivation to get to where they are now.

But in order to get where one is in life, you have to have good teachers. Someone has to help guide you through life, preparing you for what's coming, and teach you something you didn't know.

In my life, I'd say I had more good teachers than bad teachers. I learned a lot in school, and have been inspired and pushed to do something special by more than one. Even the bad teachers I had taught me something. They all helped turn me into a productive member of society.

I teach now. I'm trying to give back to the community as well.

And if there's one thing I know, it's this: Teachers are important.

They are not a group that can be walked over and stepped on, despite the fact people try. People in the private sector like to say we don't work hard or enough, and we're paid too much.

People in the private sector have no idea what we go through. School has changed, and most of us are not the teacher that you hated. We're the one that you've forgotten. The teacher you loved.

Most of us try to get to each and everyone of our students. Most of us try to get students motivated, get them to look at life a new way.

We are not in it for the paycheck.

That's not to say we don't deserve a paycheck. Because we do. We helped make you what you are now. There should be a price tag on that.

Cops help. They should make more money.

Fire Fighters help. They should make more money.

Teachers influence and inspire.

I know the economy is rough right now. I know this is a bad times to be asking for this. But when the economy turns and people in the private sector start collecting bonuses again and making money hand over fist...they'll still believe cops, firefighters, and teachers are paid too much.

There are people who are bad at every job. There are bad teachers, cops, firefighters. Bad writers. Bad governors. Bad businessmen. Bad athletes.

But the majority of people try hard, work hard, and earn their money.

So, I'm sorry if this isn't specifically crime fiction related today. But I have to say, without teachers, I wouldn't be a crime fiction writer.

Without teachers, I wouldn't know what to do.

Teachers are not a blight on society. They are not the dredge of society. They should be honored for what they do.

I hope you pepper the comments section with memories of your favorite teachers.