Rsync corrump linkdump

ALT

I’m coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I’m emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I’m giving a keynote called “DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses’ insatiable horniness for enshittification” (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

As per the uje, I’ve arrived upon a Saturday with a backlog of links that I have not managed to squeeze into the week’s newsletters/blogs, so it’s time for another linkdump, 22nd in an erratic series. Here’s the previous 21:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

Let’s start with some seasonal material, and by “seasonal,” I of course mean Hallowe'en. Yes, August is the official start of Spooky Season, and yes, I am a monster for insisting on this, but being a monster is the point of Spooky Season (which is what differentiates Spooky Season pushers like me from the creeps who insist that you need to start prepping for Xmas in late September – they’re monsters, too, but Yule Monsters are bad) (with the exception of Krampus).

I was a monster kid and now I’m a monster adult. It all started when I was bitten by a radioactive Haunted Mansion at the age of six:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/10/22/how-a-haunted-mansion-addict-fell-in-love-with-the-greatest-ride-on-earth/

I am a sucker for all things monstrous, and so I was intrigued when I got a book of “creepy-cute” stickers in the mail from a publicist at Simon & Schuster:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/The-Creepy-Cute-Sticker-Book/Gaynor-Carradice/Creepy-Cute-Gift-Series/9781507222515

“Creepy-Cute” turns out to be an official designation, embraced by the illustrator GaynorCarradice, who has created several books on these lines, featuring her chibi/monster crossover creations, which do exactly what it says on the tin, by which I mean, there’s some genuinely creepy stuff in the mix, along with the cute.

ALT

It’s when the cute pastels rub up against the gore, skulls, eyeballs and other visceral viscera that these illustrations really kick off some heat – I’ve rounded up a few of my favorites here:

https://craphound.com/images/creepycute.jpg

One of the surefire signs that Spooky Season is upon us is that the (sometimes NSFW) Tumblr account Halloweenlandmotherfucker emerges from dormancy with a stream of images of vintage Hallowe'en cards (these were a thing!), photos of people in costume and other delightful visual novelties:

https://www.tumblr.com/halloweenlandmotherfucker

Monster culture isn’t just for Hallowe'en, of course. The ancient and noble tradition of compiling and publishing bestiaries is alive and well, thanks to RPGs. In the beginning, there was the D&D Boxed Set, with its Monsters and Treasure booklet:

https://www.americanroads.us/DandD/ODnD_Monsters_and_Treasure.pdf

Then came the Monster Manual, the first hardcover D&D book, succeeded by the Fiend Folio, which featured Charlie Stross creations like the githzerai and slaad, Indeed, there was a whole, iconic library of hardcovers that fit perfectly in an oversized backpack that I dragged everywhere so that I could obsessively read and re-read them.

Eventually, these gave way to new hardcovers with new rules as well as new corporate owners (Wizards of the Coast, then Hasbro), culminating in the release of the Open Gaming License, an “open content” license that was a) grossly defective; b) largely irrelevant; and c) hugely controversial in 2023, when Hasbro terminated it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/12/beg-forgiveness-ask-permission/#whats-a-copyright-exception

The Open Gaming License purported to license out game elements that weren’t copyrightable (rules, tables, etc), as well as material that you could likely use under copyright exceptions like fair use:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/01/beware-gifts-dragons-how-dds-open-gaming-license-may-have-become-trap-creators

And worst of all, it was revocable, so games publishers who tooled up to publish supplements and sourcebooks based on the OGL could have the rug yanked out from under them at any time (that time turned out to be early 2023).

Keep reading

Richard R John’s “Network Nation”

ALT

THIS SATURDAY (July 20), I’m appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

The telegraph and the telephone have a special place in the history and future of competition and Big Tech. After all, they were the original tech monopolists. Every discussion of tech and monopoly takes place in their shadow.

Back in 2010, Tim Wu published The Master Switch, his bestselling, wildly influential history of “The Bell System” and the struggle to de-monopolize America from its first telecoms barons:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/11/01/the-master-switch-tim-net-neutrality-wu-explains-whats-at-stake-in-the-battle-for-net-freedom/

Wu is a brilliant writer and theoretician. Best known for coining the term “Net Neutrality,” Wu went on to serve in both the Obama and Biden administrations as a tech trustbuster. He accomplished much in those years. Most notably, Wu wrote the 2021 executive order on competition, laying out a 72-point program for using existing powers vested in the administrative agencies to break up corporate power and get the monopolist’s boot off Americans’ necks:

https://www.eff.org/de/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

The Competition EO is basically a checklist, and Biden’s agency heads have been racing down it, ticking off box after box on or ahead of schedule, making meaningful technical changes in how companies are allowed to operate, each one designed to make material improvements to the lives of Americans.

A decade and a half after its initial publication, Wu’s Master Switch is still considered a canonical account of how the phone monopoly was built – and dismantled.

But somewhat lost in the shadow of The Master Switch is another book, written by the accomplished telecoms historian Richard R John: “Network Nation: Inventing American Telecommunications,” published a year after The Master Switch:

https://www.hup.harvard.edu/books/9780674088139

Network Nation flew under my radar until earlier this year, when I found myself speaking at an antitrust conference where both John and Wu were also on the bill:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VNivXjrU3A

During John’s panel – “Case Studies: AT&T & IBM” – he took a good-natured dig at Wu’s book, claiming that Wu, not being an historian, had been taken in by AT&T’s own self-serving lies about its history. Wu – also on the panel – didn’t dispute it, either. That was enough to prick my interest. I ordered a copy of Network Nation and put it on my suitcase during my vacation earlier this month.

Network Nation is an extremely important, brilliantly researched, deep history of America’s love/hate affair with not just the telephone, but also the telegraph. It is unmistakably as history book, one that aims at a definitive takedown of various neat stories about the history of American telecommunications. As Wu writes in his New Republic review of John’s book:

Generally he describes the failure of competition not so much as a failure of a theory, but rather as the more concrete failure of the men running the competitors, many of whom turned out to be incompetent or unlucky. His story is more like a blow-by-blow account of why Germany lost World War II than a grand theory of why democracy is better than fascism.

https://newrepublic.com/article/88640/review-network-nation-richard-john-tim-wu

In other words, John thinks that the monopolies that emerged in the telegraph and then the telephone weren’t down to grand forces that made them inevitable, but rather, to the errors made by regulators and the successful gambits of the telecoms barons. At many junctures, things could have gone another way.

Keep reading

Bowen McCurdy and Jordan Morris’s “Youth Group”

ALT

NEXT SATURDAY (July 20), I’m appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

Youth Group is Bowen McCurdy and Jordan Morris’s new and delightful graphic novel from Firstsecond. It’s a charming tale of 1990s ennui, cringe Sunday School – and demon hunting.

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250789235/youthgroup

Kay is a bitter, cynical teenager who’s doing her best to help her mother cope with an ugly divorce that has seen her dad check out on his former family. Mom is going back to church, and she talks Kay into coming along with her to attend the church youth group.

This is set in the 1990s, and the word “cringe” hasn’t yet entered our lexicon as an adjective, but boy is the youth group cringe. The pastor is a guitar-strumming bearded dad who demonstrates how down he is with the kids by singing top 40 songs rewritten with evangelical lyrics (think Weird Al meets the 700 Club). Kay gamely struggles through a session and even makes a friend or two, and agrees to keep attending in deference to her mother’s pleas.

But this is no ordinary youth group. Kay’s ultra-boring suburban hometown is actually infested with demons who routinely possess the townspeople, and that baseline of demonic activity has suddenly gone critical, with a new wave of possessions. Suddenly, the possessed are everywhere – even Kay’s shitty dad ends up with a demon inside of him.

That’s when Kay discovers that the youth group and its corny pastor are also demon hunters par excellence. Their rec-rooms sport secret cubbies filled with holy weapons, and the words of exorcism come as readily to them as any embarrassing rewritten devotional pop song. Kay’s discovery of this secret world convinces her that youth group isn’t so bad after all, and soon she is initiated into its mysteries, including the existence of rival demon-hunting kids from the local synagogue, Catholic church, and Wiccan coven.

As the nature of the new demonic incursion becomes clearer, it falls on Kay and her pals to overcome these sectarian divisions over the protests of their guitar-strumming, magic-wielding leader. That takes on a special urgency when Kay learns why the demons are interested in her, personally, and a handful of other kids in town who all share a secret trait.

I confess that as someone who lived through the 1990s as a young man, there is something disorienting about experiencing the decade of my young adulthood through the kind of retro lens I associate with the 1950s or 1960s. But while the experience is disorienting, it’s not unpleasant. McCurdy’s artwork and Morris’s snappy dialog conjure up that bygone decade in a way that is simultaneously affectionate and critical, exposing the hollowness of its performative ennui and the brave face that performance represented even as the world was being swept up in corporate gigantism.

Keep reading

Foxx Nolte’s “Hidden History of Walt Disney World”

ALT

NEXT SATURDAY (July 20), I’m appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

No one writes about Disney theme parks like Foxx Nolte; no one rises above the trivia and goes beyond the mere sleuthing of historical facts, no one nails the essence of what makes these parks work – and fail.

I first encountered Nolte through her blog, Passport to Dreams Old and New, where her writing transformed the way I viewed the project of these giant, elaborate built environments. It was through articles like this one – about the sightlines from bathrooms! – that I came to truly understand what design criticism means:

https://passport2dreams.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-awkward-transitions-of-disneyland.html

While her work on queue design transformed how I thought about waiting, scarce-goods allocation, and the psychology of anticipation and desire:

https://passport2dreams.blogspot.com/2010/12/third-queue.html

But I really knew her for a kindred spirit when I read her masterful analysis of the historical context and enduring power of the Haunted Mansion:

https://passport2dreams.blogspot.com/2010/05/history-and-haunted-mansion.html

A decade after that Haunted Mansion post, Nolte published the definitive history of the Haunted Mansions, Boundless Realm, the very best book ever written on the subject:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/09/boundless-realm/#fuxxfur

This year, Nolte came back with another short, smart, endlessly fascinating history of Disney World, Hidden History of Walt Disney World:

https://www.arcadiapublishing.com/products/9781467156189

There are many histories of Walt Disney World, but none are quite like this. Nolte – who worked at the park for many years – combines her insider’s view with her deep historical knowledge and yields up a “hidden history” that will forever change how I look at the built environment and the natural landscape it sits atop.

The path to Walt Disney World – an entertainment juggernaut that occupies a landmass twice the size of Manhattan – was anything but smooth. Its original design – Walt’s design – barely survived groundbreaking, dying with Walt himself. Walt’s successor, his brother Roy, used the occasion of Walt’s death to assert his long-contested dominance over the park, drastically scaling back Walt’s ambition for a bizarre residential/utopian community and replacing it with a kind of deluxe Disneyland with the idea of limiting the company’s financial risk by re-creating a pre-existing, sure thing money-maker.

Keep reading

Austin Grossman’s ‘Fight Me’

ALT

On July 14, I’m giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I’m appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

In Fight Me, the novelist and game developer Austin Grossman uses aging ex-teen superheroes to weigh the legacy of Generation X, in a work that enrobes its savage critique with sweet melancholia, all under a coating of delicious snark:

http://www.austingrossman.com/fight-me

It is, in other words, a very Gen X kinda novel. Prodigy (AKA Alex Beekman) is a washed-up superhero. As a nerdy high-schooler, he was given super powers by a mysterious wizard (posing as a mediocre teacher), who gave him an amulet and a duty. Whenever Alex touches the amulet and speaks the word of power, reaclun (which he insists is not “nuclear” backwards) he transforms into Prodigy, a nigh-invulnerable, outrageously handsome living god who is impervious to bullets, runs a one-minute mile, and fights like a champ. Prodigy, he is told, has a destiny: to fight the ultimate evil when it emerges and save the world.

Now, Alex is 40, and it’s been a decade since he retired both Prodigy and his Alex identity, moving into a kind of witness protection program the federal government set up for him. He poses as a mediocre university professor, living a lonely and unexceptional life.

But then, Alex is summoned back to the superhero lair he shared with his old squad, “The Newcomers,” a long-vacant building that is one quarter Eero Saarinen, three quarters Mussolini. There, he is reunited with his estranged fellow ex-Newcomers, and sent on a new quest: to solve the riddle of the murder of the mysterious wizard who gave him his powers, so long ago.

The Newcomers – an amped-up ninja warrior, a supergenius whose future self keeps sending him encouragement and technical schematics backwards through time, and an exiled magical princess turned preppie supermodel – have spent more than a decade scattered to the winds. While some have fared better than Alex/Prodigy, none of them have lived up to their potential or realized the dreams that seemed so inevitable when they were world famous supers with an entourage of fellow powered teens who worshipped them as the planet’s greatest heroes.

As they set out to solve the mystery, they are reunited and must take stock of who they are and how they got there (cue Talking Heads’ “Once In a Lifetime”). With flashbacks, flashforwards, and often hilarious asides, Prodigy brings us up to speed on how supers fail, and what it’s like to live as a failed super.

The publisher’s strapline for this book is “The Avengers Meets the Breakfast Club,” which is clever, but extremely wrong. The real comp for this book isn’t “The Breakfast Club,” it’s “The Big Chill.”

When I realized this, I got briefly mad, because I’ve only had two good movie high concept pitches in my life and one of them was “Gen X Big Chill.” Rather than veterans of the Summer of 68 confronting the Reagan years, you could have veterans of the Battle of Seattle living through the Trump years. One would be on PeEP, one would be an insufferable Andrew Tate-quoting bitcoiner, one would be a redpilled reactionary with a genderqueer teen, one would be a squishy lib, one a firebreathing leftist, etc. The soundtrack would just be top 40 tracks from artists who have songs on “Schoolhouse Rock Rocks”:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schoolhouse_Rock!_Rocks

Every generation has some way in which they seek to overthrow the status quo and build a new, allegedly better one, after all. “Big Chill”’s impact comes from its postmortem on a generation where it was easy to feel like you were riding destiny’s rails to greatness thanks to the sheer size of the Boomer cohort and the postwar prosperity they lived through. A Gen X Big Chill would be a stocktaking of a generation that defined itself as a lost generation reared in the Boomers’ shadows, armored against the looming corpo-climate apocalypse with the sword of irony and the shield of sincerity.

Which is basically what Grossman is doing here. What’s more, doing this as a superhero story is a genius move – what could be a better metaphor for a teen’s unrealistic certainty of destined greatness than a superhero? Superhero fantasies are irreducibly grandiose and unrealistic, but all the more beautiful and brave and compelling for it.

You know, like teens.

At 52, I’m a middle-aged Gen Xer. I’ve got two artificial hips and I just scheduled a double cataract surgery. My hairline is receding. I’m an alta kaker. But I wasn’t always: I was a bright and promising kid, usually the youngest person in the room where we were planning big protests, ambitious digital art projects, or the future of science fiction. I had amazing friends: creative and funny and sweet, loyal and talented and just fun.

We’re mostly doing okay (the ones that lived; fuck cancer and fuck heroin and fuck fentanyl). Some of us are doing pretty good. On a good day, I think I’m doing pretty good. I had a night in 2018 where I got to hang out, as a peer, with my favorite musician and my favorite novelist, both in the same evening. These were artists I’d all but worshipped as a teen. I remember looking at the two selfies I took than night and thinking, Man, if 15 year old me could see these, he’d say that it all worked out.

But you don’t get to be 52 without having a long list of regrets and failures that your stupid brain is only too eager to show you a highlight reel from. No one gets to middle age without a haunting loss that is always trying to push its way to the fore in order to incinerate every triumph great and small and leave ashes behind.

Keep reading

Kitchensink callithump linkdump

ALT

On July 14, I’m giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I’m appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

With just days to go before my summer vacation, I find myself once again with a backlog of links that I didn’t squeeze into the blog, and no hope of clearing them before I disappear into a hammock for two weeks, so it’s time for my 21st linkdump – here’s the other 20:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

I’m going to start off this week’s ‘dump with a little bragging, because it’s my newsletter, after all. First up: a book! Yes, I write a lot of books, but what I’m talking about here is a physical book, a limited edition of ten, that I commissioned from three brilliant craftspeople.

Back in March 2023, I launched a Kickstarter to pre-sell the audiobook of Red Team Blues, the first novel in my new Martin Hench series, about a forensic accountant who specializes in unwinding tech bros’ finance frauds:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

One of the rewards for that campaign was a very special hardcover: a handmade, leather-bound edition of Red Team Blues, typeset by the typography legend John D. Berry:

https://johndberry.com/

Bound by the legendary book-artist John DeMerritt:

https://www.demerrittstudios.com/

And printed by the master printer JaVae Berry:

https://www.jgraphicssf.com/

But this wasn’t a merely beautiful, well made book – it had a gimmick. You see, I had already completed the first draft of The Bezzle, the second Hench novel, by the time I launched the Kickstarter for Red Team Blues. I had John Berry lay out a tiny edition of that early draft as a quarter-sized book, and then John DeMerritt hand-bound it in card.

The reason that edition of The Bezzle had to be so small was that it was designed to slip into a hollow cavity in the hardcover, a cavity that John Berry had designed the type around, so that both books could be read and enjoyed.

I offered three of these for sale through the Kickstarter, and the three backers were very patient as the team went back and forth on the book, getting everything perfect. Last month, I took delivery of the books: three for my backers, one each for John DeMerritt and John Berry’s personal archives, one for me, and a few more that I’m going to surprise some very special people with this Christmas.

Look, I had high hopes for this book. I dote on beautiful books, my house is busting with them, and I used to work at a new/used science fiction store where we had a small but heartstoppingly great rare book selection. But these books are fucking astounding. Every time I handle mine, my heart races. These are beautiful things, and I just want to show them to everyone:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/albums/72177720318331731/

As it happens, the next thing I’m going to do (after I finish this newsletter) is turn in the copyedited manuscript for the third Hench novel, Picks and Shovels, which comes out in Feb 2025 (luckily, I had enough time to review the edits myself, then turn it over to my mom, who has proofed every book I’ve written and always catches typos that everyone else misses, including some real howlers – thanks Mom!):

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865908/picksandshovels

Of course, the majority of people who enjoy my books do not end up with one of these beautiful hardcovers – indeed, many of you consume my work exclusively as electronic media: ebooks and (of course) audiobooks. I love audiobooks and the audio editions of my books are very good, with narrators like Amber Benson, Wil Wheaton, and Neil Gaiman.

But here’s the thing: Audible refuses to carry my books, because they are DRM-free (which means that they aren’t locked to Audible’s approved players – you can play my audiobooks with any audiobook player). Audible has a no-exceptions, iron-clad rule that every book they sell must be permanently locked into their platform, which means that Audible customers can’t ditch their Audible software without losing their libraries – all the books they purchased:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

Being excluded from Audible takes a huge bite out of my income – after all, they’re a monopolist with a 90% market share. That’s why I’m so grateful for indie audiobook stores that carry my books on equitable terms that Audible denies – stores like Libro.fm, Downpour and even Google Books.

This week, I discovered a new, amazing indie audiobook store called Storyfair, where the books are DRM-free and the authors get a 75% royalty on every sale:

https://storyfair.net/helpstoryfairgrow/

Storyfair is a labor of love created by a married couple who were sickened and furious by the way that Audible screws authors and listeners and decided to do something about it. Naturally, I uploaded my whole catalog to the site so they could sell it:

https://storyfair.net/search-for-audiobooks/?keyword=cory+doctorow&filter=any

These books are DRM-free, which means that no matter who you buy them from, you can play them in the same player as your other DRM-free audiobooks. You know how you can read all your books under the same lamp, sitting in the same chair, and then put them in the same bookcase when you’re done with them? It’s weird – outrageous even! – that tech companies think that buying a book from them means that they should have the legal right to force you to read or listen to it using their technology exclusively.

Keep reading

Mirion Malle’s “So Long Sad Love”

ALT

On July 14, I’m giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I’m appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

In Mirion Malle’s So Long Sad Love, a graphic novel from Drawn and Quarterly, we get an all-too-real mystery story: when do you trust the whisper network that carries the fragmentary, elliptical word of shitty men?

https://drawnandquarterly.com/books/so-long-sad-love/

Cleo is a French comics creator who’s moved to Montreal, in part to be with Charles, a Quebecois creator who helps her find a place in the city’s tight-knit artistic scene. The relationship feels like a good one, with the normal ups and downs, but then Cleo travels to a festival, where she meets Farah, a vivacious and talented fellow artist. They’re getting along great…until Farah discovers who Cleo’s boyfriend is. Though Farah doesn’t say anything, she is visibly flustered and makes her excuses before hurriedly departing.

This kicks off Cleo’s hunt for the truth about her boyfriend, a hunt that is complicated by the fact that she’s so far from home, that her friends are largely his friends, that he flies off the handle every time she raises the matter, and by her love for him.

There’s a term for men like Charles: a “missing stair.” “Missing stair” is a metaphor for someone in a social circle who presents some kind of persistent risk to the people around them, who is accommodated rather than confronted:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Missing_stair

The metaphor goes like this: you’re at a party and every time someone asks where the bathroom is, another partygoer directs them to the upper floor and warns them that one of the stairs is missing, and if they don’t avoid that tread, they will fall through and be gravely injured. In this metaphor, a whole community of people have tacitly decided to simply accept the risk that someone who is forgetful or new to the scene will fall through the stair – no one has come forward to just fix that stair.

The origins of this term are in BDSM circles, and the canonical “missing stair” is a sexual predator, but from the outset, it’s referred to all kinds of people with failings that present some source of frustration or unhappiness to those around them, from shouters to bigots to just someone who won’t help do the dishes after a dinner party:

https://pervocracy.blogspot.com/2012/06/missing-stair.html

We all know a few missing stairs, and anyone who’s got even a little self-reflexivity must wonder from time to time if they’re not also a missing stair, at least to some people in their lives. After all, friendship always entails some accommodation, and doubly so love – as Dan Savage is fond of saying, “There is no person who is ‘The One’ for you – the best you can hope for is the '0.6’ that you can round up to 'The One,’ with a lot of work.”

And at least some missing stairs aren’t born – they’re made. Everyone screws up, everyone’s got some bad habits, everyone’s got some blind spots about what others expect of them and how others perceive us. When the people around us make bad calls about whether to let us skate on our faults and when to confront us, those faults fester and multiply and calcify. This is compounded in long-tenured relationships that begin in our youth, when we are still figuring out our boundaries – the people who we give a pass to when we’re young and naive can become a fixture in our lives despite characteristics that, as adults, we wouldn’t tolerate in someone who is new to our social scene.

To make all this even more complicated, there’s the role that power plays in all this. Many missing stairs are keenly attuned to power dynamics and present a different face to people who have some authority – whether formal or tacit – to sanction them. This is why so many of the outings of #MeToo predators provoked mystified men to say, “Gosh, they never acted that way around me – I had no idea.”

Keep reading

Sphinxmumps Linkdump

ALT

On THURSDAY (June 20) I’m live onstage in LOS ANGELES for a recording of the GO FACT YOURSELF podcast. On FRIDAY (June 21) I’m doing an ONLINE READING for the LOCUS AWARDS at 16hPT. On SATURDAY (June 22) I’ll be in OAKLAND, CA for a panel and a keynote at the LOCUS AWARDS.

Welcome to my 20th Linkdump, in which I declare link bankruptcy and discharge my link-debts by telling you about all the open tabs I didn’t get a chance to cover in this week’s newsletters. Here’s the previous 19 installments:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

Starting off this week with a gorgeous book that is also one of my favorite books: Beehive’s special slipcased edition of Dante’s Inferno, as translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, with new illustrations by UK linocut artist Sophy Hollington:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/beehivebooks/the-inferno

I’ve loved Inferno since middle-school, when I read the John Ciardi translation, principally because I’d just read Niven and Pournelle’s weird (and politically odious) (but cracking) sf novel of the same name:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inferno_(Niven_and_Pournelle_novel)

But also because Ciardi wrote “About Crows,” one of my all-time favorite bits of doggerel, a poem that pierced my soul when I was 12 and continues to do so now that I’m 52, for completely opposite reasons (now there’s a poem with staying power!):

https://spirituallythinking.blogspot.com/2011/10/about-crows-by-john-ciardi.html

Beehive has a well-deserved rep for making absolutely beautiful new editions of great public domain books, each with new illustrations and intros, all in matching livery to make a bookshelf look classy af. I have several of them and I’ve just ordered my copy of Inferno. How could I not? So looking forward to this, along with its intro by Ukrainian poet Ilya Kaminsky and essay by Dante scholar Kristina Olson.

The Beehive editions show us how a rich public domain can be the soil from which new and inspiring creative works sprout. Any honest assessment of a creator’s work must include the fact that creativity is a collective act, both inspired by and inspiring to other creators, past, present and future.

One of the distressing aspects of the debate over the exploitative grift of AI is that it’s provoked a wave of copyright maximalism among otherwise thoughtful artists, despite the fact that a new copyright that lets you control model training will do nothing to prevent your boss from forcing you to sign over that right in your contracts, training an AI on your work, and then using the model as a pretext to erode your wages or fire your ass:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/13/spooky-action-at-a-close-up/#invisible-hand

Same goes for some privacy advocates, whose imaginations were cramped by the fact that the only regulation we enforce on the internet is copyright, causing them to forget that privacy rights can exist separate from the nonsensical prospect of “owning” facts about your life:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/21/the-internets-original-sin/

We should address AI’s labor questions with labor rights, and we should address AI’s privacy questions with privacy rights. You can tell that these are the approaches that would actually work for the public because our bosses hate these approaches and instead insist that the answer is just giving us more virtual property that we can sell to them, because they know they’ll have a buyer’s market that will let them scoop up all these rights at bargain prices and use the resulting hoards to torment, immiserate and pauperize us.

Take Clearview AI, a facial recognition tool created by eugenicists and white nationalists in order to help giant corporations and militarized, unaccountable cops hunt us by our faces:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/20/steal-your-face/#hoan-ton-that

Clearview scraped billions of images of our faces and shoveled them into their model. This led to a class action suit in Illinois, which boasts America’s best biometric privacy law, under which Clearview owes tens of billions of dollars in statutory damages. Now, Clearview has offered a settlement that illustrates neatly the problem with making privacy into property that you can sell instead of a right that can’t be violated: they’re going to offer Illinoisians a small share of the company’s stock:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/06/14/clearview_ai_reaches_creative_settlement/

To call this perverse is to go a grave injustice to good, hardworking perverts. The sums involved will be infinitesimal, and the only way to make those sums really count is for everyone in Illinois to root for Clearview to commit more grotesque privacy invasions of the rest of us to make its creepy, terrible product more valuable.

Worse still: by crafting a bespoke, one-off, forgiveness-oriented regulation specifically for Clearview, we ensure that it will continue, but that it will also never be disciplined by competitors. That is, rather than banning this kind of facial recognition tech, we grant them a monopoly over it, allowing them to charge all the traffic will bear.

Keep reading

Robin Sloan’s “Moonbound”

ALT

On June 20, I’m keynoting the LOCUS AWARDS in OAKLAND.

Robin Sloan has a well-deserved reputation as a sparkly, fizzy writer, the kind of person who can tell a smart/smartass story infused with fantasy-genre whimsy but grounded in high-tech, contemporary settings (think here of Charlie Jane Anders’ gorgeous All the Birds In the Sky):

https://memex.craphound.com/2016/01/26/charlie-jane-anderss-all-the-birds-in-the-sky-smartass-soulful-novel/

In Moonbound, a new, wildly ambitious solarpunk novel published today by Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, Sloan moves out of his usual, daffy, high-tech/high-weird Bay Area milieu and catapults us 11,000 years into the future, to a world utterly transformed and utterly fascinating:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374610609/moonbound

Moonbound’s protagonist is a “chronicler,” a symbiotic fungus engineered to nestle in a human’s nervous system, where it serves as a kind of recording angel, storing up the memories, experiences and personalities of its host. When we meet the chronicler, it has just made a successful leap from its old host – a 10,000-years-dead warrior who had been preserved in an anaerobic crashpod ever since her ship was shot out of the sky – into the body of Ariel, a 12-year-old boy who had just invaded the long-lost tomb.

This is quite a move. This long-dormant, intelligent fungus originates a thousand years into our own future, long after the climate emergency had been (miraculously, joyously) averted and has arrived in a world ten millennia years even further down the line. It must orient itself from its position inside the nervous system of a 12-year-old, and we have to orient ourselves to having an 11,000-year-distant future explained by an intelligent fungus from 1,000 years into our own future.

This is doing fiction in hard mode, and Sloan nails it. The unraveling strangeness of Ariel’s world is counterpointed with the amazing tale of the world the chronicler hails from, even as the chonicler consults with the preserved personalities of the heroes and warriors it had previous resided in and recorded.

And in this curious way, we learn of the history of the chronicler’s world, and of the strange world so far into the future that Ariel lives in – and becomes incredible consequential to.

Start with the chronicler’s world: on the way to solving the climate emergency, the human race figured out how to cooperate on unimaginably massive projects (for example, addressing the world’s runaway carbon problem). This pays huge dividends, ushering in a period of thrilling innovation, as humans and the nonhuman intelligences they have constructed collaborate to explore out planet, our solar system, and – thanks to a faster-than-light breakthrough – our galaxy.

A crew of seven are dispatched to the ends of space with great fanfare – but when they return, they are terrified and full of grim purpose. Something they met out there in the galaxy has convinced them that humanity must never look to the stars again. They blanket the planet in a cloak of dust and establish a garrison on the moon from which they destroy any attempts to leave the Earth.

This triggers a savage war against these seven “dragons” and their moonbase. The chronicler’s warrior – the one who was entombed for 10,000 years before being discovered by Ariel – was shot down on a last-ditch attempt to destroy the dragons and their base on the moon.

Flash forward 10,000 years. Ariel lives in a weird, medieval-type village, albeit one in which the peasant-types all wear high-tech performance all-weather gear…and the animals all talk. It’s a very strange place – there’s a sword in a stone, a wizard in a tower…and an airstrip.

Keep reading

Joseph Cox’s “Dark Wire”

ALT

NEXT WEEKEND (June 7–9), I’m in AMHERST, NEW YORK to keynote the 25th Annual Media Ecology Association Convention and accept the Neil Postman Award for Career Achievement in Public Intellectual Activity.

No one was better positioned to tell the tale of the largest sting operation in world history than veteran tech reporter Joseph Cox, and tell it he did, in Dark Wire, released today:

https://www.hachettebookgroup.com/titles/joseph-cox/dark-wire/9781541702691/

Cox – who was one of Motherboard’s star cybersecurity reporters before leaving to co-found 404 Media – has spent years on the crimephone beat, tracking vendors who sold modded phones (first Blackberries, then Android phones) to criminal syndicates with the promise that they couldn’t be wiretapped by law-enforcement.

It’s possible that some of these phones were secure over long timescales, but all the ones we know about are ones that law enforcement eventually caught up with, usually by capturing the company’s top founders explicitly stating that the phones were sold to assist in the commission of crimes, and admitting to remote-wiping phones to obstruct law-enforcement options. It’s hard to prove intent but it gets a lot easier when the criminal puts that intent into writing (that’s true of tech executives, too!):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

But after a particularly spectacular bust landed one of the top crimephone sales reps in the FBI’s power, they got a genuinely weird idea: why not start their own crimephone company?

The plan was to build an incredibly secure, best-of-breed crimephone, one with every feature that a criminal would want to truly insulate themselves from law enforcement while still offering everything a criminal could need to plan and execute crimes.

They would tap into the network of crimephone distributors around the world, not telling them who they were truly selling for – nor that every one of these phones had a back-door that allowed law-enforcement to access every single message, photo and file.

This is the beginning of an incredible tale that is really two incredible tales. The first is the story of the FBI and its partners as they scaled up Anom, their best-of-breed crimephone business. This is a (nearly) classic startup tale, full of all-nighters, heroic battles against the odds, and the terror and exhilaration of “hockey-stick” growth.

The difference between this startup and the others we’re already familiar with is obvious: the FBI and its global partners are acting under a totally different set of constraints to normal startup founders. For one thing, their true mission and identity must be kept totally secret. For another, they have to navigate the bureaucratic barriers of not one, but many governments and their courts, constitutions and procedures.

Keep reading

Emil Ferris’s long-awaited “My Favorite Thing Is Monsters Book Two”

ALT

NEXT WEEKEND (June 7–9), I’m in AMHERST, NEW YORK to keynote the 25th Annual Media Ecology Association Convention and accept the Neil Postman Award for Career Achievement in Public Intellectual Activity.

Seven years ago, I was absolutely floored by My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, a wildly original, stunningly gorgeous, haunting and brilliant debut graphic novel from Emil Ferris. Every single thing about this book was amazing:

https://memex.craphound.com/2017/06/20/my-favorite-thing-is-monsters-a-haunting-diary-of-a-young-girl-as-a-dazzling-graphic-novel/

The more I found out about the book, the more amazed I became. I met Ferris at that summer’s San Diego Comic Con, where I learned that she had drawn it over a while recovering from paralysis of her right – dominant – hand after a West Nile Virus infection. Each meticulously drawn and cross-hatched page had taken days of work with a pen duct-taped to her hand, a project of seven years.

The wild backstory of the book’s creation was matched with a wild production story: first, Ferris’s initial publisher bailed on her because the book was too long; then her new publisher’s first shipment of the book was seized by the South Korean state bank, from the Panama Canal, when the shipper went bankrupt and its creditors held all its cargo to ransom.

My Favorite Thing Is Monsters told the story of Karen Reyes, a 10 year old, monster-obsessed queer girl in 1968 Chicago who lives with her working-class single mother and her older brother, Deeze, in an apartment house full of mysterious, haunted adults. There’s the landlord – a gangster and his girlfriend – the one-eyed ventriloquist, and the beautiful Holocaust survivor and her jazz-drummer husband.

Karen narrates and draws the story, depicting herself as a werewolf in a detective’s trenchcoat and fedora, as she tries to unravel the secrets kept by the grownups around her. Karen’s life is filled with mysteries, from the identity of her father (her brother, a talented illustrator, has removed him from all the family photos and redrawn him as the Invisible Man) to the purpose of a mysterious locked door in the building’s cellar.

But the most pressing mystery of all is the death of her upstairs neighbor, the beautiful Annika Silverberg, a troubled Holocaust survivor whose alleged suicide just doesn’t add up, and Karen – who loved and worshiped Annika – is determined to get to the bottom of it.

Karen is tormented by the adults in her life keeping too much from her – and by their failure to shield her from life’s hardest truths. The flip side of Karen’s frustration with adult secrecy is her exposure to adult activity she’s too young to understand. From Annika’s cassette-taped oral history of her girlhood in an Weimar brothel and her escape from a Nazi concentration camp, to the sex workers she sees turning tricks in cars and alleys in her neighborhood, to the horrors of the Vietnam war, Karen’s struggle to understand is characterized by too much information, and too little.

Ferris’s storytelling style is dazzling, and it’s matched and exceeded by her illustration style, which is grounded in the classic horror comics of the 1950s and 1960s. Characters in Karen’s life – including Karen herself – are sometimes depicted in the EC horror style, and that same sinister darkness crowds around the edges of her depictions of real-world Chicago.

These monster-comic throwbacks are absolute catnip for me. I, too, was a monster-obsessed kid, and spent endless hours watching, drawing, and dreaming about this kind of monster.

ALT

But Ferris isn’t just a monster-obsessive; she’s also a formally trained fine artist, and she infuses her love of great painters into Deeze, Karen’s womanizing petty criminal of an older brother. Deeze and Karen’s visits to the Art Institute of Chicago are commemorated with loving recreations of famous paintings, which are skillfully connected to pulp monster art with a combination of Deeze’s commentary and Ferris’s meticulous pen-strokes.

Keep reading

The DRM-free ebooks for my pre-apocalyptic, hopeful climate emergency novel The Lost Cause is on sale in the USA!

Today, you can get the Kobo edition for $2.99, and all month, the Kindle edition is also $2.99.

Rebecca Roque’s “Till Human Voices Wake Us”

ALT

I’m touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TOMORROW (Apr 17) in CHICAGO, then Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

ALT

“Till Human Voices Wake Us” is Rebecca Roque’s debut novel: it’s a superb teen thriller, intricately plotted and brilliantly executed, packed with imaginative technological turns that amp up the tension and suspense:

https://www.blackstonepublishing.com/till-human-voices-wake-us-gn3a.html#541=2790108

Modern technology presents a serious problem for a thriller writer. Once characters can call or text one another, a whole portfolio of suspense-building gimmicks – like the high-speed race across town – just stop working. For years, thriller writers contrived implausible – but narratively convenient – ways to go on using these tropes. Think of the shopworn “damn, my phone is out of battery/range just when I need it the most”:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIZVcRccCx0

When that fails, often writers just lean into the “idiot plot” – a plot that only works because the characters are acting like idiots:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Idiot_plot

But even as technology was sawing a hole in the suspense writer’s bag of tricks, shrewd suspense writers were cooking up a whole new menu of clever ways to build suspense in ways that turn on the limitations and capabilities of technology. One pioneer of this was Iain M Banks (RIP), whose 2003 novel Dead Air was jammed with wildly ingenious ways to use cellphones to raise the stakes and heighten the tension:

https://web.archive.org/web/20030302073539/http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/11.03/play.html?pg=8

This is “techno-realism” at its best. It’s my favorite mode of storytelling, the thing I lean into with my Little Brother and Martin Hench books – stories that treat the things that technology can and can’t do as features, not bugs. Rather than having the hacker “crack the mainframe’s cryptography in 20 minutes when everyone swears it can’t be done in less than 25,” the techno-realist introduces something gnarlier, like a supply-chain attack that inserts a back-door, or a hardware keylogger, or a Remote Access Trojan.

Back to Roque’s debut novel: it’s a teen murder mystery told in the most technorealist way. Cia’s best friend Alice has been trying to find her missing boyfriend for months, and in her investigation, she’s discovered their small town’s dark secret – a string of disappearances, deaths and fires that are the hidden backdrop to the town’s out-of-control addiction problem.

Keep reading

Steven Brust’s “Lyorn”

ALT

I’m touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (Apr 11) at UCLA, then Chicago (Apr 17), Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

ALT

Today marks the publication of Lyorn, the seventeenth book in Steven Brust’s long-running Vlad Taltos series. While this is definitely not where you should start reading this series, I hope I can convince you that this book is so delicious that you should go read the other sixteen books right now:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780765382863/lyorn

I have been reading these books since I was 12. I’ve literally grown up with them. Brust has said all along that there will be nineteen Vlad novels. Once again, Lyorn is number seventeen. It is no hyperbole to say that i) I have been waiting for this moment all my life and ii) it is nearly upon us.

The Vlad books are set on Dragaera, a fantasy world dominated by a race of long-lived elven-types called Dragaerans; wedged into the corners of Dragaeran society are humans (“Easterners”) who speak a kind of pidgin Hungarian, practice Hungarian witchcraft, and cook delicious Hungarian food (the meals in the Vlad books are the best part, except for all the other best parts, which are even better).

We meet Vlad Taltos as a teenaged tough whose father, a restaurateur, scrimped and saved to buy them membership in House Jhereg, the noble house that supplies the empire with its organized criminals: killers, thieves, money-launderers, and other important social lubricants. Vlad likes being a Jhereg thug, because at last someone is paying him to beat up Dragareans, something he used to do for sport and as revenge for all the racist taunting and violence he and his father endure.

Over the next sixteen (!) books, we follow Vlad as he rises within the Jhereg to be a serious crime boss, but also a key figure in the skullduggery of imperial succession, and also the affairs of the fates, the gods, and the Jenoine, who may or may not be aliens who created this whole Dragaera business as part of an unknowable experiment.

Brust – a literary heir to Roger Zelazny and Fritz Lieber – is doing a kind of noir sword-and-sorcery thing here, filled with evil-snort-provoking snappy dialog (I emitted three evil snorts within the first ten minutes of reading Lyorn), fantastic fight scenes, intricate capers, epic romances and gigantic, Return-Of-the-King-grade set-piece battles.

But Brust is a clever motherfucker. These books don’t just range up and down thousands of years of history (there’s a whole related series set millennia before Vlad was born, written in the style of Alexandre “Three Musketeers” Dumas), but they also have all these wonderful, delightful, absurdly clever framing devices.

Keep reading

Good company (ish)

ALT