A Much Deserved Fisking

In the November issue of Locus magazine, Cory Doctorow wrote an op-ed piece defending Jeannette Ng and the decision to strip Campbell’s name from the Campbell Award. At least, that’s how it started out, but it quickly devolved into a hatchet piece against everyone in science fiction whose politics lie somewhere to the right of Stalin.

Ever since Sad Puppies III, I’ve more or less gotten used to the gaslighting, hypocrisy, and projection that has become de rigeur in the traditional publishing side of the field. But somehow, Doctorow’s hit piece manages to hit a new high water mark for leftist insanity.

Since my own politics lie somewhere between Boadicea and Genghis Khan, I thought it would be fun to give the piece a good old-fashioned fisking. I can’t pretend to be as good at it as Larry Correia (and I sincerely hope he fisks it himself), but damn, if anything ever was written to be fisked, it was this ridiculous piece.

Doctorow writes:

At the Hugo Awards ceremony at this summer’s Dublin Worldcon, Jeannette Ng was presented with the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer. Ng gave an outstanding and brave acceptance speech

Translation: Ng reinforced the dominant far-left narrative in the science fiction field, telling the gatekeepers exactly what they wanted to hear and earning widespread praise for it.

True bravery is Jordan Peterson deleting his $35,000/month Patreon in protest of their hate speech policies, or Kanye West coming out as a devout Christian, producing a worship album, and announcing that he will no longer perform any of his old songs.

in which she called Campbell – the award’s namesake and one of the field’s most influential editors – a “fascist” and expressed solidarity with the Hong Kong pro-democracy protesters.

You know who else shows solidarity with the Hong Kong protests? That’s right—everyone’s favorite deplorable frog!

Now that’s a dank meme.

I’m curious: does this make Ng a white supremacist for showing solidarity with people who use such a rascist hate symbol? Does it make Cory Doctorow a dog whistler to the far right for appealing to these obviously racist deplorables?

Of course not, but that’s the level of insanity we’ve fallen to.

I am a past recipient of the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer (2000) as well as a recipient of the John W. Campbell Memorial Award (2009). I believe I’m the only person to have won both of the Campbells,

All red flags to deplorable readers like me,

which, I think, gives me unique license to comment on Ng’s remarks, which have been met with a mixed reception from the field.

I think she was right – and seemly – to make her re­marks. There’s plenty of evidence that Campbell’s views were odious and deplorable.

There’s that word: “deplorable.” Whenever someone uses it unironically, it’s a sure sign that they hate you. It’s also a sign that they don’t actually have a good argument.

It wasn’t just the story he had Heinlein expand into his terrible, racist, authoritarian, eugenics-inflected yellow peril novel Sixth Column.

I haven’t heard of that one. Thanks for the recommendation, Cory! I’ve already ordered it.

Nor was it Campbell’s decision to lean hard on Tom Godwin to kill the girl in “Cold Equations” in order to turn his story into a parable about the foolishness of women and the role of men in guiding them to accept the cold, hard facts of life.

Okay, I call bullshit. “Cold Equations” wasn’t about the “foolishness of women,” it was about how when our inner humanity comes into conflict with the hard realities of the universe, the hard realities always win.

Switch the genders—a female pilot and a teenage boy stowaway—and the story still works. Switch the endings—have the pilot decide to keep the stowaway, dooming himself and the sick colonists—and it does not.

In fact, it makes the girl even more of a hapless, weak feminine stereotype. Stepping into the airlock voluntarily is an act of bravery. In some ways, she’s stronger than the pilot—and that’s kind of the point.

The thing that makes “Cold Equations” such a great story is that it functions as something of a mirror. It’s the same thing with Heinlein: those who see him as a fascist are more likely to be authoritarians, while those who see him as a libertarian are more likely to be libertarians themselves. After all, fascism is “citizenship guarantees service,” not “service guarantees citizenship.”

It’s also that Campbell used his op-ed space in Astound­ing to cheer the murders of the Kent State 4. He attributed the Watts uprising to Black people’s latent desire to return to slavery.

Was John Campbell a saint? No, and I don’t think anyone’s claiming that. In the words of Ben Shapiro, two things can be true at once: John Campbell had some racist, sexist views, and stripping his name from the award is wrong. (Also, that Doctorow is full of shit.)

The Campbell award isn’t/wasn’t named after him because he was a perfect, flawless human being. It was named after him because of his contributions to the field. If we’re going to purge his name from the award, are we also going to purge all of the classic golden-age books and stories that he edited, too? Are we going to have the digital equivalent of a book burning? Because that strikes me as a rather fascist thing to do.

These were not artefacts of a less-englightened [sic] era. By the standards of his day, Campbell was a font of terrible ideas, from his early support of fringe religion and psychic phenomena to his views on women and racialized people.

What are the standards of our own day? In what ways are we less-enlightened? Are future generations likely to accuse Doctorow of being a “font of terrible ideas,” just like he accuses Campbell here?

Do unborn black lives matter? If Trump is truly a fascist, why does the left want him to take all our guns? Is it okay to be white? Is Islam right about women? Is transgender therapy for prepubescent children just another form of conversion therapy? Are traps gay?

When you free your mind to explore new ideas, a lot of them are bound to be terrible. It’s simply Sturgeon’s law. So is Doctorow criticizing Campbell for having an open mind, or for not conforming to Doctorow’s values and beliefs?

Who’s supposed to be the fascist again?

So when Ng held Campbell “responsible for setting a tone of science fiction that still haunts the genre to this day.

I’m pretty sure that taking hormone blockers and getting your balls cut off makes you a hell of a lot more sterile than anything else. Lesbians, gays, transgenders, queers—all of these tend to be sterile as a general rule. Most babies are still made the old-fashioned way.

Male.

Isn’t her word choice kind of sexist here? I mean, she could have used the word “patriarchal,” but she didn’t. She. Deliberately. Used. The. Word. “Male.”

White.

Is she saying that it isn’t okay to be white?

Exalting in the ambitions of imperialists and colonisers,

Come on, Ng. Let’s not be racist. There were plenty of imperialists and colonizers who weren’t white Europeans. After all, how can we forget Imperial Japan and the Rape of Nanking? Now that was an ambitious massacre. The Turks also ran a pretty brutal empire, as did the Zulus and the Aztecs. You can’t tell me that cutting out the beating hearts of more than 80,000 prisoners to rededicate your temple isn’t ambitious.

settlers and industrialists,”

Find me one place that was not built by “settlers.” Find me one human being on this planet who has not benefitted from “industrialists.” Who do you think makes the vaccines and antibiotics? Who do you think makes machines that harvest your food?

Just for a single day, I would like to see all of these anti-capitalist types live without any of the benefits that capitalism and modern industry provide.

she was factually correct.

And yet, so completely full of shit.

In the words of Andrew Klavan, you can’t be this stupid without a college education.

Not just factually correct: she was also correct to be saying this now.

Because it’s [current year]!

Science fiction (like many other institutions) is having a reckoning with its past and its present. We’re trying to figure out what to do about the long reach that the terrible ideas of flawed people (mostly men) had on our fields.

The best way to fight a terrible idea is to allow it out in the open while fostering freedom of speech. In the words of Andrew Breitbart, sunlight is the best disinfectant.

The reckoning that Doctorow is calling for is something that’s already built into the field. Science fiction is constantly evolving and revisiting its past. Good science fiction not only builds on the stuff that came before, it critiques it while taking the ideas in a new direction.

We don’t need to tear down the legacy of the giants in the field who came before us; we simply need to build up our own legacies for the generations that come after us. But that’s not what Ng and the social justice warriors want to do.

It isn’t a coincidence that the traditionally published side of the field is rapidly losing market share as the SF establishment seeks to purge everything that could possibly offend their progressive sensibilities. The people doing the purging can’t compete on the open market because their toxic ideologies don’t resonate with the buying public, so they’re forced to resort to the digital equivalent of burning books and tearing down statues. Meanwhile, indie publishing is eating their lunch.

Get woke, go broke.

We’re trying to reconcile the legacies of flawed people whose good deeds and good art live alongside their cruel, damaging treatment of women. These men were not aberrations: they were following an example set from the very top and running through the industry and through fandom,

Future generations will struggle to reconcile our good deeds and our good art with our cruel and inhuman treatment of the unborn.

None of this is new. All of us are flawed; every generation is tainted with blood and sins that are reprehensible to those that follow. Realizing all this, you would think a little introspection is in order. But the people today who are so eager to throw stones are completely lacking in self-introspection that they can’t—or rather, won’t—see their own blood and sins.

to the great detriment of many of the people who came to science fiction for safety and sanctuary and community.

Is science fiction a “safe space,” or is it the genre of ideas? It can’t be both at the same time. Ideas are inherently dangerous.

It’s not a coincidence that one of the first organized manifestations of white nationalism as a cultural phenomenon within fandom was in the form of a hijacking of the Hugo nominations process.

Bullshit. If you think that the Sad Puppies were white nationalists, you’re either stupid or willfully ignorant (a distinction without a difference).

Larry Corriea’s flagship fantasy series, the Saga of the Forgotten Warrior, is set in an Indian-inspired fantasy world populated entirely by brown people. Brad Torgerson has been happily married to a woman of color for decades. Sarah Hoyt is both latina and an immigrant.

If this article was written three years ago, you would have just called them all racists, but you can’t do that now because “racist” has lost its edge. You’ve cried wolf far too many times, and no one pays attention to those accusations anymore. That’s why you use words like “fascist,” “white nationalist,” and “white supremacist” to describe your enemies—not because you actually believe it, but because those accusations haven’t yet lost their edge.

While fandom came together to firmly repudiate its white nationalist wing, those people weren’t (all) entry­ists who showed up to stir up trouble in someone else’s community. The call (to hijack the Hugo Award) was coming from inside the house: these guys had been around forever, and we’d let them get away with it, in the name of “tolerance” even as these guys were chasing women, queer people, and racialized people out of the field.

Translation: we’re done with paying lip service to “tolerance” and “open-mindedness.” From now on, if you don’t look like us, act like us, or think like us, we’re going to do everything we can to destroy you.

I’m telling you, these people hate us. That’s why they call us “deplorables.” That’s why they paint us as racists and fascists, even when we’re nothing of the sort. They don’t want to listen to us. They don’t want to give us a fair hearing. They want to destroy us.

Stripping Campbell’s name from the Campbell Award is just another example of this toxic cancel culture. It isn’t about reckoning or reconciliation. It’s a naked power grab.

Those same Nazis went on to join Gamergate, then became prominent voices on Reddit’s /r/The_Donald, which was the vanguard of white national­ist, authoritarian support for the Trump campaign.

See, this is why I can’t trust you, Cory. Gamergate had legitimate grievances with Anita Sarkeesian, Zoe Quinn, and Gawker. Trump supporters had legitimate reasons to want to stop Hillary Clinton from becoming president. Yet you casually dismiss all these people as deplorables, racists, and fascists without even listening to them.

That’s intelluctually dishonest, Cory. It’s also a form of gaslighting.

The connections between the tales we tell about ourselves and our past and futures have a real, direct outcome on the future we arrive at. White supremacist folklore, including the ecofascist doctrine that says we can only avert climate change by murdering all the brown people, comes straight out of SF folklore, where it’s completely standard for every disaster to be swiftly followed by an underclass mob descending on their social betters to eat and/or rape them (never mind the actual way that disasters go down).

I don’t think Cory Doctorow has any idea what actually happens when society collapses. When the thin veneer of civilization gets stripped away, people will eat each other. We’ve seen this just recently in Venezuela, Syria, and Mexico. Here in the US, we can see the seeds of our own collapse in Chicago, Portland, San Francisco, Baltimore, and Detroit (all very blue and progressive cities, by the way).

Also, I don’t think Cory Doctorow has any idea what he’s talking about when he says “white supremacist folklore.” What is that even supposed to mean? Just a couple of paragraphs ago, he called all the Sad Puppies “white nationalists,” and that obviously isn’t true. By “white supremacist folklore,” does he mean all the science fiction that doesn’t fit his radical progressive political ideology? Once again, he’s painting with an overly broad brush.

Also, notice how he uses “white supremacist” instead of “racist.” He can’t use “racist” because that word has been overused. Give it a couple of years, and “white supremacist” will lose its edge as well.

When Ng picked up the mic and told the truth about Campbell’s legacy, she wasn’t downplaying his importance: she was acknowledging it. Campbell’s odious ideas matter because he was important, a giant in the field who left an enduring mark on it. No one questions that. What we want to talk about today is what Campbell’s contribution was, and what it means.

Whenever the people on the progressive left claim that they want to have a “conversation” about something, what they really mean is “shut up and let me tell you how I’m right and you’re wrong.” There is no way to have an honest dialogue with these people, because they will not listen to us “deplorables.” Cory Doctorow has already demonstrated this with his blanket accusations against all the supporters of Gamergate, the Sad Puppies, and President Trump.

These people don’t want to talk about “what Campbell’s contribution was, and what it means.” They want to purge him from the field. Metaphorically, they want to burn his books and tear down his statues.

Look, I’m not trying to defend all of Campbell’s views here. I’m all for having an honest discussion about his bad ideas and how they’ve influenced the field. But I don’t believe I can have that discussion with people who clearly hate me, and will do whatever it takes to cancel and destroy me.

After Ng’s speech, John Scalzi published a post where he pointed out that many of the people who were angry at Ng “knew Campbell personally,” or “idolize and respect the writers Campbell took under his wing… Many if not most of these folks know about his flaws, but even so it’s hard to see someone with no allegiance to him, either personally or professionally, point them out both forcefully and unapologetically. They see Campbell and his legacy ab­stractly, and also as an obstacle to be overcome. That’s deeply uncomfortable.”

Scalzi’s right, too: the people who counted Campbell as a friend are au­thentically sad to confront the full meaning of his legacy. I feel for them.

Do you really, though?

It’s hard to reconcile the mensch who was there for you and treated his dog with kindness and doted on his kids with the guy who alienated and hurt people with his cruel dogma.

Did you catch the sneaky rhetorical trick that Doctorow uses here? He assumes that we’ve already accepted his argument that Campbell’s views were odious enough to have his name stripped from the award. Now he’s using an appeal to emotion to smooth it over.

Gaslighting of the highest order.

Here’s the thing: neither one of those facets of Campbell cancels the other one out. Just as it’s not true that any amount of good deeds done for some people can repair the harms he visited on others, it’s also true that none of those harms can­cel out the kindnesses he did for the people he was kind to.

Or cancel all of his contributions to the field?

If Doctorow actually believes all this, why does he support Ng, who argues that everything Campbell did should be cancelled out by his most odious views? If anything, this is an argument against stripping Campbell’s name from the award.

Life is not a ledger. Your sins can’t be paid off through good deeds. Your good deeds are not cancelled by your sins. Your sins and your good deeds live alongside one another. They coexist in superposition.

Yes, and you should never underestimate the capacity of the human mind to believe two mutually exclusive ideas at the same time, especially when his name is Cory Doctorow.

You (and I) can (and should) atone for our misdeeds.

Not in today’s cancel culture, where everything you’ve accomplished can be erased by the one bad thing you tweeted or posted to Facebook ten years ago. There’s also no forgiveness or repentance, when you will be forever remembered for the worst thing you said or did.

We can (and should) apologize for them to the people we’ve wronged.

No. Giving a public apology is the absolute worst thing you can do in today’s cancel culture, because your enemies will smell blood in the water and come in for the kill.

Never apologize to a mob.

We should do those things, not because they will erase our misdeeds, but because the only thing worse than being really wrong is not learning to be better.

Oh, this is rich.

You first, Cory. Have you taken a good, hard look in the mirror? Have you really, truly asked yourself “what if I’m wrong?”

I don’t see eye to eye with Vox Day about everything, but he was right about this: you social justice types always lie, you always double down, and you always project your own worst faults onto your enemies. That’s why you’re so blind to your own hypocrisy, even when it’s staring you in the face.

I completely and totally agree that we should all strive to admit when we’re wrong and learn to be better for it, but you’re not in a position to tell me that, Cory. Not after painting all us “deplorables” with such a broad brush.

People are flawed vessels. The circumstances around us – our social norms and institutions – can be structured to bring out our worst natures or our best. We can invite Isaac Asimov to our cons to deliver a lecture on “The Power of Posterior Pinching” in which he would literally advise men on how to grope the women in attendance, or we can create and enforce a Code of Conduct that would bounce anyone, up to and including the con chair and the guest of honor, who tried a stunt like that.

Honest question: was the sexual revolution a mistake?

Asimov, Heinlein, Farmer, and all the other science fiction writers who explored questions of sexuality back the 60s and 70s were speaking to a culture that had abandoned traditional morality for a new, “free love” ethic. In other words, having thrown out all the rules, they now felt free to explore their newly “liberated” sexuality.

Was Asimov wrong in his attempt to rewrite our sexual norms? Personally, I believe it was, but I come from a religious tradition that still practices total abstinence before marriage and total fidelity within. Even then, it still depends on context. Groping a random stranger at a science fiction convention is obviously wrong, but playfully pinching my wife when the two of us are alone? Not so much.

I find it really fascinating that the woke-scolds of the left have become far more puritanical and prudish than the religious right ever was. Within the bonds of marriage, most of us religious types are actually very sex positive—after all, where do you think all those babies come from?

And Ng calls us “sterile.” Heh.

We, collectively, through our norms and institutions, create the circum­stances that favor sociopathy or generosity. Sweeping bad conduct under the rug isn’t just cruel to the people who were victimized by that conduct: it’s also a disservice to the flawed vessels who are struggling with their own contradictions and base urges.

Fair enough, but there’s nothing generous about today’s cancel culture, which is frankly pathological in the way it defines everyone by their worst flaws and basest urges.

Creating an environment where it’s normal to do things that – in 10 or 20 years – will result in your expulsion from your community is not a kindness to anyone.

But how can we know what will and will not be acceptable in 10 to 20 years?

Twenty years ago, it wasn’t considered hate speech to say that there are only two genders. Ten years ago, “micro-aggressions,” “safe spaces,” and “white privilege” were not a thing. In fact, we’d just elected our first black president, bringing an end to our racially divisive past. /sarc

In the next 10 to 20 years, will we adopt all the theories and ideologies of the radical left? Or will the pendulum swing back in favor of more conservative morals and standards? We don’t know yet, because the future has not been written, and frankly, it’s not our place to write it. Every generation reinvents the world.

There are terrible men out there today whose path to being terrible got started when they watched Isaac Asimov grope women without their consent and figured that the chuckling approval of all their peers meant that whatever doubts they might have had were probably misplaced. Those men don’t get a pass because they learned from a bad example set by their community and its leaders – but they might have been diverted from their path to terribleness if they’d had better examples.

Certainly. I’m just not convinced that these virtue signalling, social justice warrior types are the examples that we should hold up.

They might not have scarred and hurt countless women on their way from the larval stage of shittiness to full-blown shitlord, and they themselves might have been spared their eventual fate, of being disliked and excluded from a community they joined in search of comradeship and mutual aid. The friends of those shitty dudes might not have to wrestle with their role in enabling the harm those shitty dudes wrought.

I’m confused. Does Doctorow believe that women are strong and independant, or does he believe that they’re tender, fragile creatures that need to be protected from socially inept, “larval” shitlords? I mean, I can see how they need to be protected from predators, since all of us—women and men—are vulnerable to various degrees… but you’d think that a strong, independent woman would be able to hold her own against a socially incompetent geek who is simply a “flawed vessel.”

Since her acceptance speech, Ng has been subjected to a triple-ration of abuse and vitriol,

Join the club.

much of it with sexist and racist overtones.

You keep using those words. I do not think they mean what you think they mean.

But Ng’s bravery hasn’t just sparked a conversation, it’s also made a change. In the weeks after Ng’s speech, both Dell Magazines (sponsors of the Campbell Award) and the James Gunn Center at the University of Kansas at Lawrence (who award the other Campbell Award at an event called “The Campbell Conference”) have dropped John W. Campbell from the names of their awards and events. They did so for the very best of reasons.

No, they did it because they were bullied into it by the woke-scolds.

As a winner of both Campbell Awards, I’m delighted by these changes. Campbell’s impact on our field will never be truly extinguished (alas),

Yes, because what you really want is to tear down all the statues and burn all the books. Who’s the fascist again?

but we don’t need to celebrate it.

Back when the misogynist/white supremacist wing of SF started to publicly organize to purge the field of the wrong kind of fan and the wrong kind of writer, they were talking about people like Ng.

Bullshit.

The entire point of the Sad Puppies (which Doctorow intentionally and dishonestly mischaracterizes as “the misogynist/white supremacist wing of SF”) was to bring more attention to a diversity of conservative and libertarian writers, many of whom are also women and people of color. We were the ones who were excluded, not the ones doing the excluding. In fact, we invented the words “wrongfan” and “wrongfun” to describe the unfair way that we were treated by the mainstream establishment.

Please stop trying to gaslight us, Mr. Doctorow. Please stop projecting your own faults onto us, and recognize your own hypocrisy which is laced throughout this article. I don’t expect a public apology, since I wouldn’t offer one myself, but do wish for once that you would just listen to the people on the other side of these issues. Just. Listen.

I think that this is ample evidence that she is in exactly the right place, at the right time, saying the right thing.

Meanwhile, traditional publishing and the SF establishment will continue to implode, and indies will continue to eat your lunch.

If all you want is to be king of the ashes, you can have it. The rest of us are off to build the new world.

2019-10-10 Newsletter Author’s Note

This author’s note originally appeared in the October 10th edition of my author newsletter. To subscribe to my newsletter, click here.

I saw Joker yesterday. Don’t worry, I won’t give away any spoilers. It was every bit as incredible as I expected it to be, and yet in some key ways, not what I was expecting at all.

First, the basics. This movie is dark. Very, very dark. I believe this is the darkest, most terrifying iteration of the Joker ever made. Part of that is because it is so realistic. There are no magical superpowers, no aliens or infinity stones or any of that stuff. This story could have already happened in our world. It could yet happen.

That said, it is clear that the people who made it have deep respect and appreciation for the franchise. It isn’t like The Last Jedi, where the filmakers explicitly tried to subvert all of the things the fans love about Star Wars. In many ways, Joker is a homage to all of the iterations of Batman that have come before it. This could just as well be the origin story of Cesar Romero’s Joker as Heath Ledger’s.

Joaquin Phoenix is incredible. I didn’t think it was possible to do a better Joker than Heath Ledger, but Phoenix has done it. He really draws you into the Joker’s head, and his transformation from a broken misfit to a sociopathic supervillian is believable, compelling, and utterly terrifying. He earned every moment of the eight-minute standing ovation this movie received on its debut.

There is a dramatic arc to violence that very few movies, TV shows, or even books show in its entirety. When a character swings an axe at someone’s head, the scene usually cuts. You know what happened. But in Joker, you see everything. It’s a lot like Blade Runner in that respect. The bodycount is not that high, but the violence really hits you, and stays with you.

If you aren’t in touch with your dark side, this movie will profoundly disturb you. It will also screw with your mind. If you struggle with PTSD, this is probably one to avoid, unfortunately. Even if you think you like dark movies, this one may be too much for you. But if you do enjoy it, you will probably want to see it again, and again. There are so many layers to this movie that a single viewing is not enough to fully take it all in.

Without question, Joker is a major cultural landmark. It is, above all else, a brutally clear and damning indictment of all of us. In a world convinced that guns cause violence, Joker focuses on mental health and the cracks in our healthcare system. In a world obsessed with priviledge and inequality, Joker is about our pathological lack of empathy and compassion.

Part of the controversy surrounding this movie is the gulf between the critics who hate this movie, and the general audience, which loves it. After watching it, I think the critics can be divided into three camps.

First, there are the social elites who are so out of touch with the reality that the rest of us live in that Joker is anathema to their lived experience. It’s not that they hate it, so much as that they’re confused and bewildered by it. They are also bewildered by Brexit and the election of Donald Trump.

Second, there are the wokescolds who hate Joker because they recognize it as an indictment of themselves. They deride it as an “incel movie” because they know that their woke politics are partly responsible for creating a culture where “incels” are a thing, and that drives these people to violence.

I actually think that this isn’t the case for most of the critics. Sargon of Akkad recently put out a video on this, and while I agree with him that the wokescold critics see Joker as a mirror, I don’t think they see themselves as the people who drive the Joker into psychopathic madness. Instead, I think that the vast majority of the wokescold critics see themselves in the Joker.

In Milo Yiannopoulos’s interview with Jordan Peterson, he made the very salient point that the angriest, most radical people on the far left are, in their personal lives, broken and in pain. Often, they are victims of abuse. Personally, I would expand that to include many on the alt-right as well, but the point still stands.

The wokescolds want to see themselves as heroes working to overcome systems of oppression and inequality. They see themselves as builders, but Joker shows them that all they really want is to burn it all down. That’s why I believe this movie has provoked such a virulent backlash from the wokescolds: because it is a mirror that shows them as they really are, and they are terrified of what they see in it.

Without love, it is impossible for our culture and society to heal. That, I believe, is Joker’s ultimate message. The reason that Arthur becomes the Joker is because no one ever showed him any compassion, empathy, or love. He laughed through the pain until the pain made him laugh, and became the villain that Gotham deserved.

How often do we really listen to each other? How often do we reach outside of ourselves and genuinely connect? A recent study shows that the average American hasn’t made a single new friend in the last five years. Is that you? Is that your neighbor? The family across the street, or the guy who lives down the hall?

It doesn’t take much to reach out. Sometimes, all it takes is a smile—but isn’t that the joke? Somewhere, I hear maniacal laughter…

2019-10-03 Newsletter Author’s Note

This author’s note originally appeared in the October 3rd edition of my author newsletter. To subscribe to my newsletter, click here.

When Mrs. Vasicek and I got married, we decided that there would be no smart devices or screens in our house beyond the master bedroom. Our reasoning had mostly to do with personal health and avoiding bad habits, though there was also some concern about data collection and privacy.

One of the things I really like about this rule is that it keeps me from becoming too attached to my smart phone. Most of us are never be more than an arm’s reach away from our phones, and over time we come to feel almost like they’re a physical part of us. But every night, Mrs. Vasicek and I leave our phones to get ready for bed, and we don’t pick them up again until after we’re fully awake.

I have to admit that I had withdrawals at first, but now I feel much better. My phone is just another tool now; it no longer feels like an extension of myself.

Another thing I really like about this rule is how it sets apart a large section of the house that is free from digital distractions. The bedroom is now a really great place to read. Our one exception to the no screens rule is my Kindle Paperwhite, which uses e-ink anyway so it’s not as bad as an LED screen. It’s also seven-and-a-half years old, so web browsing isn’t really practical.

The other thing I really like is how it sets my mind at ease to know that there’s at least one part of the house where there aren’t any digital recording devices surveilling and collecting data on us. (Please don’t tell me that the Paperwhite is recording me too!)

In the last few years, it seems that Big Tech has been increasingly intrusive in our lives. Over the summer, it seemed like every week there’d be a new story about a Silicon Valley whistleblower, or an undercover investigation, or even a senior Google executive coming out on the record about censorship, bias, and control.

A couple of weeks ago, Glenn Beck did a fascinating interview with Robert Epstein, a researcher who found compelling evidence that Google has both the capability and the motivation to sway major national elections. (Epstein voted for Clinton in 2016, so the interview wasn’t partisan.) It reminded me of a presentation that Chamath Palihapitiya (senior executive at Facebook from 2007 to 2011) gave at Stanford in 2017, where he talked about social media addiction and explained why he doesn’t use social media nor allow his children to do so.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to navigate our modern, complex world in a way that doesn’t surrender most of our agency to Big Tech and Silicon Valley. It’s also becoming increasingly ambiguous how much of that agency is an illusion, with companies like Facebook and Google influencing us in ways we aren’t consciously aware of.

As an indie author who depends on Amazon for a large part of my income, I’m very much aware of these issues. It’s part of the reason why I’m working so hard to build and maintain this newsletter, so that I don’t have to depend on Big Tech for my book marketing. It’s impossible to be a career author these days without a plan for navigating this world.

Where are we headed? Science fiction gives us a chilling answer. Right now, it appears that China and the East are going the way of 1984, while the United States and the West are going the way of Brave New World.

But those books were written almost a hundred years ago, and technologies have been developed that Orwell and Huxley couldn’t have even dreamed of. It’s time for a new generation of writers to pick up the torch that they handed off to us.

That’s a big reason why I’m writing “Sex, Life, and Love under the Algorithms.” As for where to go next, I honestly don’t know. So much happening in the world today screams out for new science fiction just to make sense of it all, so when I’m not writing fantasy I’ll probably delve more into that.

Whatever else happens, we’re all in this rabbit hole together.

Trace the Stars edited by Joe Monson and Jaleta Clegg

I picked up my paperback copy of this anthology at LTUE this year, and immediately set about collecting all of the signatures from the authors that I could find. I’ve currently got everyone except for Nancy Fulda, Wulf Moon, Beth Buck, and Julia H. West. Once I have acquired these last four signatures, it will transform at last into a mighty book of power!

So I only gave this anthology three-stars on Goodreads, but that’s not because it’s a bad book. Rather, it’s because my Goodreads rating philosophy is different from my Amazon rating philosophy. A three-star on Goodreads is more like a four-star on Amazon: not terrible, but not super great either. I reserve my five-stars on Goodreads for the best of the best, the truly life-changing books that will forever leave their imprint upon me.

Anyways. Overall, I’d say that the anthology was pretty even-keel. There weren’t any amazing stories in it, but there weren’t any stinkers either. My favorite was “The Road Not Taken” by Sandra Tayler, about a starliner passenger who was subject to a freak anomaly that created a duplicate of the ship. One of them got the husband and the family, while the other got the career, and they meet up once a year to see how the other is doing. No matter what they say, you really can’t have it all.

I also really liked “Angles of Incidence” by Nancy Fulda. The aliens were really fascinating. Deep sea lava vent dwellers with knobby shells, but the really interesting part was the development of their language and how that factored into the story. Also, a slumbering god-queen who devours anyone who dares to wake her. Fun times.

Brad Torgerson’s and Kevin J. Anderson’s stories appealed to my inner twelve year-old, as did David Farland’s (though it had a rather slow start). “Cycle 335” by Beth Buck had a twist that I really enjoyed. The ending of “Neo Nihon” by Paul Genesse was also very satisfying, though wow—what a dark story!

Those were the ones that really stuck with me. The others weren’t bad—like I said, there weren’t any real stinkers. For a benefit anthology, it was pretty good. I’m looking forward to picking up the next one at LTUE 2020, as well as collecting the last four signatures and turning this into a book of power! Bwahahahaha!

2019-09-19 Newsletter Author’s Note

This author’s note originally appeared in the September 19th edition of my author newsletter. To subscribe to my newsletter, click here.

It’s September, which means (among other things) that it’s time to revisit my business plan and update it for the next year. Every January 1st, I print out a new and revised copy of my business plan, which provides a great opportunity to evaluate my efforts and hone in on the things I need to do better.

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been working on the section titled “What I Write.” In this year’s business plan, it was a pretty straightforward breakdown of all of the series in my catalog. But for next year, I took a few steps back to address things like what is a Joe Vasicek book? or what are some of my books’ recurring themes? or what kind of science fiction and fantasy do I write specifically, and how does my work contribute to the genre?

The exercise really got me to think about why I write. In the day to day life of a writer, it’s very easy to lose sight of the forest for the trees. Deadlines and daily word count goals keep the focus on the page right in front of you, and when you do think ahead it’s usually just to the next chapter. But without taking time to step back and look at the bigger picture, it’s easy to lose that creative drive, or settle for second-rate work.

So what is a Joe Vasicek book? I hope it’s a book that’s memorable and meaningful. It may be dark, but never dismal. It may push you out of your comfort zone, but it also leaves you feeling rejuvenated and inspired. It features interesting characters wrestling with complex ethical dilemmas and struggling to do the right thing as best as they know how.

What are some of my books’ recurring themes? The balance between liberty and responsibility is a huge one. Actions have consequences, and true liberty is taking ownership of those consequences as well as your actions. Another is the sanctity of sex, contrasting selfish gratification with the affirmation of commitment and love. The yearning for God is another recurring theme, with a great deal of religious diversity in the starfaring civilizations of my books. Another theme I keep coming back to is the call of the frontier.

I’m curious, though, to hear what you guys think. What do you think makes a Joe Vasicek book? What tropes or recurring themes have you enjoyed in my books? As a writer, I’m often too close to my own work to see what’s obvious to everyone else. What do you think is my biggest contribution to the genre?

2019-09-05 Newsletter Author’s Note

This author’s note originally appeared in the September 5th edition of my author newsletter. To subscribe to my newsletter, click here.

Five years ago, I wrote a blog post titled “Reasons why September is my favorite month of the year.” Ever since then, whenever September rolls around, it becomes the most popular post on my blog. Since this is the first newsletter I’ve sent this September, I thought it would be fun to revisit all the reasons why September is the best month of the year.

First of all, fall is obviously the best season for a number of reasons. Summer is too hot and winter is too cold, but spring and fall are transitional seasons where, for at least a couple of weeks, the weather is exactly perfect. Spring is a close second to fall (and if you happen to live down under, September is a spring month, not an autumn month), but it’s ultimately not the best because the year hasn’t come full circle yet. Spring flowers are pretty, but fall vegetables are better.

Of all the fall months (September, October, November), September is the best because:

  • Chilly mornings — I love waking up to a nice, brisk chill! Must be my Viking blood.
  • Campfire smoke — Few scents are more invigorating than the good, clean wood smoke of a bonfire, especially in the brisk, chilly September air.
  • Farmer’s markets — If you haven’t experienced a proper farmer’s market with fresh, local produce and delicious free samples, you should. It’s a real treat!
  • Crisp Gala apples — Gala is my favorite, though Mrs. Vasicek and I have a running debate about which is the best kind of apple (she prefers Pink Lady). However, all apples are delicious when you pick them right off the tree.
  • Home-cooked chili — A classic staple of American cuisine. It’s too warm for summer and too heavy for spring, but for the colder months of fall and winter, it’s amazing.
  • Autumn leaves — Growing up in New England, this was a special treat. The American northeast has some of the most spectacular fall foliage I’ve ever seen.
  • Labor Day weekend — A very relaxing holiday, and the best way to bring the summer to a close.
  • My birthday — It only comes around once a year!
  • Start of the school calendar — New beginnings, and another reason why fall is superior to spring. In the fall, school is new and exciting, but when spring rolls around you can’t hardly wait for it to end.
  • Old friends coming and going — Related to the reasons listed above.
  • Last chance to go mountain climbing — And it’s much better to go hiking in the fall, because there isn’t any snow yet and it’s not as hot as summer.
  • First chance to take out winter clothes — You can always put on more clothes, but you can’t always take more off.
  • End of the summer slump — It’s always good when book sales are increasing.
  • Beginning of harvest season — So much delicious and healthy food!
  • Orion and the Pleiades — My favorite stars!
  • Clear blue skies — Chill air is great, but so are Indian summers.
  • Indian summers — What did I just say??
  • Long, chilly walks by moonlight — It’s good to get the blood pumping, but not so cold that it freezes your nose and beard.
  • The peace and quiet between summer vacation and the holidays — This is a big one. September is the last month before the stress of the holiday season, which seems to be creeping back earlier and earlier. But that’s a subject for another author’s note, which I’ll probably write as soon as they start to play Christmas music (hopefully not before Thanksgiving).
  • Getting back into writing after a long and eventful summer

Funny how that last one is just as true for me now as it was five years ago. It has been an extremely eventful summer, between getting married, spending time with Mrs. Vasicek’s family, and figuring out our new lives together. But now it’s September, the best month of the year, and things are coming together. Life is very, very good.

Stormrider by David Gemmell

I thoroughly enjoyed the Rigante series. It has everything that I’ve come to love about David Gemmell’s books: scarred but good-hearted people struggling to do the right thing in the face of great hardship and evil, some of which lies within. Every chapter is compelling and filled with conflict, and while you know that most of the characters are going to die, none of them is beyond redemption.

There were a lot of things in particular that I liked about this book. One of them was the early-modern feel and aesthetic to the world-building. A lot of fantasy worlds are locked in a perpetual state of medieval technology, with very little growth or development. In Stormrider, however, Gemmell advances the world of the Rigante a couple of steps up the tech tree, to a tech-level more on par with the 30 years war.

It’s not just window dressing, either, because the introduction of things like gunpowder has a direct effect on things like battle tactics and duels for honor, which directly affect the story. And yet, there’s still the same undercurrent of magic that made the other books in the series so great. The Sidh may have left the world, but their influence remains, and their magic has not yet faded completely.

My one big issue with the book had to do with the climactic battle leading up to the ending. It wasn’t exactly a deus ex machina, but in some ways it felt very much like it came out of left field and wrapped things up in a way that was just a bit too neat and tidy. That said, it wasn’t nearly as unsatisfying on a character-based level—on the contrary, it brought several of the character arcs full circle in a way that I thoroughly enjoyed. It just wasn’t as good as some of Gemmell’s other endings.

For that reason, I’m only giving this book four stars. However, a 4-star Gemmell book is like a 5-star book from anyone else. Stormrider may fall just short of the standard that Gemmell sets with his other books, but it still clears the bar for truly a truly great fantasy novel.

2019-08-29 Newsletter Author’s Note

This author’s note originally appeared in the August 29th edition of my author newsletter. To subscribe to my newsletter, click here.

I’ve recently been relistening to the History of Rome podcast by Mike Duncan. If you haven’t heard of it yet, you’re in for a treat. It’s about 180 episodes, each one about thirty minutes long, and it covers the legendary founding of Rome by Romulus and Remus to the dismantling of the western empire in 476. Great stuff.

Anyway, listening to the podcast again has given me all sorts of story ideas. 5th century Rome is basically a more interesting version of Game of Thrones, without the stupid ending (though I do have to admit, blasting the throne with dragon fire is much more awesome than sending the scepter and diadem to Constantinople). The schemes within schemes, plots within plots are rich with story potential, either for a grand fantasy epic or a sweeping space opera.

This isn’t a new thing, of course. Many sci-fi and fantasy authors have drawn inspiration from Roman history, including Asimov for his Foundation series and Frank Herbert for Dune. That’s partly because of how rich the history is, but it’s also because of how foundational Rome it is to our modern world. All of our institutions of government, law, and culture were built on the ashes of Rome, and the grand arc of Western Civilization traces an unbroken path from Augustus and Constantine to the present day.

I first became interested in Roman history by doing my own family history. My ancestry is a mixture of Czech, British, German, and Scandinavian origins, with lots of violent upheavals along the way (my British ancestors were basically the bad guys in The Last Kingdom). We know a lot about the Czech lines, where the records go back to the Battle of White Mountain after the protestants were expelled from the Czech lands. Beyond that, the records are scanty.

As I traced my lines back, I wanted to know how far it would be possible to trace them reliably. In the Czech lands, the cutoff is basically the Hussite wars. However, if you have royal ancestry (and most of us do, if you go back far enough—it was good to be the king), the records go back much further. Trouble is, most of the European genealogies get fantastical at some point, either connecting to ancient pagan gods or to the Bible.

Realistically, you can only trace European lines back to the 8th or 9th centuries with any reliability. Most of the royal families were founded by the descendants of the barbarian chieftains who had destroyed the Roman Empire, and to legitimize their rule, they traced all their bloodlines back to divinity. That was what I learned when I got into family history.

Of course, that answer led to even more questions. Why was there so much chaos after the fall of Rome? If the empire was so strong only a few centuries before, why did it fall? What caused all of the migrations, and why did the barbarians decide to invade the empire? Was the fall of Rome inevitable? Where were my ancestors when all of this was happening?

For the last three years, I’ve been on this personal journey of discovery, and it’s led to some very profound changes in my understanding of the world. It hasn’t ended yet, either. My big family history goal is to find all of my first generation American immigrant ancestors, which will probably take the rest of my lifetime to accomplish. In the meantime, it is fascinating to place my ancestors in the context of history and to think “when that big thing was happening, this is where my ancestors were.”

History is rich with stories, but it’s the personal connection that makes those stories relevant. That’s just as true for fiction as it is for history. Without the personal connection of characters just like us, or like we aspire to be, a book is just so many words on the page. It’s when we can see ourselves in the story that it begins to feel real and memorable.

I don’t know yet what kinds of stories I’ll write in the months and years ahead. It’ll take another year to finish the Genesis Earth Trilogy and the Twelfth Sword Trilogy, but after that, my writing schedule is wide open. Whatever I end up writing, however, I’m sure that the things I’m reading and learning about now will have an influence. So many ideas, so little time!

2019-08-08 Newsletter Author’s Note

This author’s note originally appeared in the August 8th edition of my email newsletter. To subscribe to my newsletter, click here.

A couple of days ago, Mrs. Vasicek and I had an old friend of hers over for dinner. This friend was visiting from out of state, and Mrs. Vasicek made it clear that politics was a subject which we would have to avoid, or at least tread very lightly. Among other things, I’d have to drop my tailgate to make sure it didn’t make a bad first impression.

(One of these days, I’ll have to share a photo of my tailgate. I despise political correctness in all of its forms, so my tailgate has become something of a monument to the first amendment. Frequently at stop lights, people will take out their phones to snap a picture.)

The dinner went really well, and we had good conversations well into the evening. Surprisingly enough, this wasn’t because we outright avoided politics, but because when the issues came up, we were able to find common ground in spite of our obvious differences. In this way, we were able to connect in a much more genuine way than if we had avoided those difficult subjects entirely.

One of the things we talked about was the destructive influence of social media outrage. Our friend told us how the relationship between her father and her sister has been destroyed, because Facebook is the only way that they can connect with each other. Those interactions have become so politically toxic that they’ve lost all of the love that they once had for each other.

That’s sad, but it’s becoming an all-too-common occurance here in the United States. Some people believe that we’re on the verge of a second civil war. I don’t know what the future holds, but if it’s anything like the first civil war, I know that there will be honorable people on both sides. That’s the tragedy. I have ancestors who fought on both sides of the American civil war, and when people ask which side I think was right, I answer “the American side.”

I’m fascinated by Robert E. Lee and his decision to fight for the Confederacy, when Lincoln himself offered him command of the Army of the Potomac. He opposed both slavery and secession, yet his conscience couldn’t allow him to stand at the head of an invading army. Neither could it allow him to stand by idly while his friends and family were slaughtered—not when he was in a position to make a difference.

Did he make the right choice? I don’t know. However, I do believe that he tried his best to do so. I try to keep that in mind when I talk with people across the political divide. No matter how much we may disagree, it’s refreshing to meet people who are sincerely striving to do what’s right as best as they know how.

In these troubled times, when the public discourse is rapidly deteriorating and outrage is the social currency of the day, it’s important to recognize the good in people, no matter which side they line up on.

2019-08-01 Newsletter Author’s Note

This author’s note originally appeared in the August 1st edition of my author newsletter. To subscribe to my newsletter, click here.

So Mrs. Vasicek is currently in Florence, Italy for a work conference that’s been going on all week. Am I jealous? Yeah, a little. Do I miss her? Yes, of course. Does she miss me? That’s what she tells me, though she’s also having a really good time touring the city and eating delicious Italian pizza and gelato. Am I jealous? Am I?

In any case, it’s been really quiet here in the Vasicek household with her gone. I’ve been taking advantage of that to get some household chores done. After we came back from the honeymoon, we went systematically through each room of the house to organize our stuff, and everything we didn’t have an immediate place for we dumped in the spare room until we could find a place for it to live. Just before she left, we finished going through all of it, so now I’ve turned the spare bedroom into my workplace:

2019-08-01 Joe's writing space

Here’s what it looks like right now. It’s not as messy as it seems. All of those cardboard boxes contain our books, which will have to remain in storage until we figure out where to shelve them. When two bookish people marry each other… you understand.

So yeah, it’s been quiet around here with Mrs. Vasicek gone. Quiet, and a little bit lonely. It reminds me of the time a few years ago when I was living alone without any roommates and got sick. I didn’t have any meaningful human contact for weeks on end, which was almost unbearable.

Writers tend to be introverts, but I’m actually an extrovert. Not the super bubbly kind who always greets everyone with a wide-eyed smile—I actually find it draining to meet new people, and prefer to keep to a small circle of close friends. But spending time with friends energizes me, while spending time alone drains me even more than being around people I don’t know.

Mrs. Vasicek is the opposite of me in that regard. She finds it draining to spend a lot of time with a close circle of friends, but gets energized when she’s in front of a large group, teaching or presenting or otherwise performing for them. She’s definitely an introvert, though, and tries to avoid unnecessary social interactions, especially when they might be awkward.

On our first date—which, incidentally, was at a bookstore (go figure)—I struck up a casual conversation with another person browsing the shelves. It’s the sort of thing that comes to me naturally, being an extrovert, but it really impressed her, enough to make her interested in a second date.

You don’t have to be alone to be lonely. That’s probably why I don’t do as well in large crowds of strangers. You also don’t have to be an extrovert: introverts can get lonely, too.

For extroverts, though, it’s either a virtuous or a vicious cycle. Spending time with people energizes you, which makes it easier to spend time with people, which energizes you, etc. On the flipside, spending time alone drains you, which makes it harder to have meaningful interactions with people, which drains you even more, etc.

All of this rambling probably makes me sound like I’m quietly losing my mind, but don’t worry: I’m actually just fine. My family was in town earlier this week, and I ran into an old college roommate just today and learned that he’s got a movie coming out in theaters next month. Awesome stuff!

So yeah, everything’s fine, but I do miss my wife a lot. She comes back in a couple of days, and I’m definitely looking forward to that.