the Scott Stein

... they used the apostrophe correctly. Does that make me a bad person?

By now, many of you will have seen the music video for "Don't Download this Song," but in case you haven't, I have posted it below (hat tip, Atlas Blogged). I'm of at least two minds on intellectual property issues and the controversy over downloading music and other works of art without paying for them.

As a writer, I'm inclined to view my work as property--a particular sort of property, of course, but property nonetheless. My new novel isn't a house or a car. My restricting your use of my house in no way violates your rights. My restricting your use of my novel in no way violates your rights. Or maybe it does, eventually.

If I want to pass my house on to my children, and they want to do the same, and so on, the house could be in the hands of my family for generations, and no one else would gain any rights to my house. Most people would see this as just and wouldn't claim that their freedoms are being violated because they are not allowed to come into the house as they please.

If I want to pass my novel on to my children, and they want to do the same, and so on, the novel would be in the hands of my family for generations, and no one else would gain any rights to my novel. Which means that 400 years from now, if someone wanted to stage a play or write a novel playing off of one of my characters, they could be prohibited from doing so. More realistically, since my work being popular 400 years from now might be a bit of a stretch, let's look at Shakespeare.

If we really treated intellectual property like a house, then the many works derived from Shakespeare's plays would not exist, or would only exist with the permission of the current copyright holder. Nothing would pass into public domain. Not only might this limit the total art available to the public, but it would limit free speech. John Updike's novel Gertrude and Claudius, for example, which took its characters from Hamlet, could be illegal. Of course, Shakespeare didn't invent all of the characters or storylines in his works--some are drawn from history or other works--and people will point out that all art comes from other art or from life to some degree. I want to live in a society where speech and art have as few limitations as possible, so treating intellectual property as physical property to be owned forever is not desirable. (We're dealing with art here, but the ramifications of intellectual property in science and technology being owned forever are serious, which is why patents are not forever.)

But I don't want people stealing my novel Mean Martin Manning. I worked really hard on it, devoted lots of time and energy to it, and I reject the idea that it isn't in some sense mine, that it isn't property, like (and unlike) a house. I know that a house is not the same as a book. They are clearly different kinds of property, so perhaps require different treatment. But they are still property.

A house comes into possession of an owner because it was created by the owner, who took some items (wood, nails, etc.) and combined them with some skill and effort, and turned them into something of value. Or it was then purchased by someone from this owner, and then the new person became the owner. This is obviously simplified, one of the problems of trying to reduce these issues to analogy. In reality, many people helped create the house--thousands, probably, if we go down to the level of nail factory--but assuming they were not coerced, then they all fill the same role of owner who sells something he has for an agreed-upon price--a house, a service, a product, a skill--and gives up any claim to the completed house in the process, or retains some claim, agreed to by all parties; anyone not agreeing is free to not participate. We are leaving aside still more complications, like who owns the land, and so on, but we’re trying to keep it simple so our heads don’t explode.

A book, likewise, comes into possession of an owner because it was created by the author, who took some items--words, ideas, paper, pen, computer, etc.--and combined them with some skill and effort, and turned them into something of value. Or it was then purchased by someone, perhaps a publishing company, from this owner, and either this someone became the new owner, or agreed to take only certain rights and leave others with the original owner (some authors give up all rights for larger payments, but it’s rare). In reality, many people helped create the book--thousands, probably, if we go down to the level of the person who chopped down the tree that made the paper--but assuming they were not coerced, then they all fill the same role of the homeowner who sells something he has for an agreed-upon price and gives up any claim to the completed house in the process.

When a writer or publisher sells a book and a reader buys it, both seller and buyer are aware of the limitations of ownership being transferred in the transaction. If they don’t agree, they can refuse to participate and try to find someone else willing to sell or buy on terms more to their liking. Some writers might choose to make their work public domain immediately. That is their right. Readers could choose to only read works in the public domain, or buy books by authors offering more extensive ownership rights to readers and the public. That is their right.

The main point is that books and homes are both property. Government might recognize them as such for utilitarian reasons and not ethical ones, but we all know it’s stealing to take someone’s house (where would you put it?), and we all know--even if some people like to get music for free--that it’s stealing to pass off someone else’s manuscript as your own. We have no rights to someone else's work, or the results of someone else's work--whatever that work might be.

The analogy begins to break down a bit, as analogies often do. We all gain from scientific discoveries and inventions, and claiming ownership over facts of nature is baseless. No person invented the laws of physics. And novelists didn't invent the conventions of the novel, and certainly don't seek permission to use them. Our culture can't be owned by any person or corporation. Hamlet is part of the culture, as is Harry Potter. I do not object to someone using Shakespeare's creations without permission or without paying for them. I do object to someone using J.K. Rowling's creations without permission or without paying for them. Maybe because J.K. Rowling is still alive.

The issue remains complicated. Mickey Mouse has been around for a long time and is part of American culture, and at some point one would think that no corporation should be able to monopolize it. But Disney (dead) was a person, and he created Mickey Mouse, and his company has invested huge amounts of money and its shareholders (alive) have a huge stake in it, and why another amusement park or animation studio should be allowed to use Mickey Mouse, even 50 years from now, escapes me. Fair use already allows--or should allow--parody and commentary that incorporates Mickey Mouse. Is free speech being crushed by allowing Disney to continue owning Mickey Mouse? They don't own the concept of mouse characters, as Chuck E. Cheese proves. What about 400 years from now? Can the company still own Mickey Mouse? And if so, why can't Shakespeare's descendants sue John Updike?

As I said, complicated. We aren't going to resolve it all here, though your thoughts are welcome. And check out the music video.

Some people think slippery slope arguments are the products of paranoid minds. That they're logical fallacies. That one thing does not lead to another. That reasonable people know when enough is enough. That there is no slippery slope.

Except, sometimes, there is.

As I write this, I know that some of my blog readers and plenty of my students are never going to read anything by Henry James (unless it is or was assigned for a class). James isn’t for those looking for a quick read. The sheer weight of his sentences, their serpentine wrapping around endless commas, the slow, seeming inaction of his plots, all give the impression that it’s too much work with too little reward. I have to admit that I need to be in a certain mood to read him--particularly for the long novels. I also must avoid distractions and have a good block of time available to me, and be well-rested and fueled by a healthy combination of caffeine and sugar.

Readers should not be put off by these disclaimers, though, because Henry James is great. His shorter pieces are not so much work after all, and once a reader adapts to his style, the rewards of his rich, subtle sentences and deep examination of character and society become clear. I always felt that I was learning to write when I read his work, which is maybe why I now only read him when I can afford to pay the proper attention--there’s too much to gain to dash through it.

I like the short stories "The Real Thing" and "Greville Fane"--while my own style and tone are as far from James as can be, his prose is at times surprisingly funny, though certainly not in a punch-line way. His serious novella "The Beast in the Jungle" was a direct influence on the theme of my first novel, and aside from that remains one of my favorite pieces written by anyone--haunting. I remember devouring The Princess Casamassima in a couple of days in graduate school, the plot details now escaping me but the sense remaining these years later that I learned so much about writing in the reading. The Portrait of a Lady, with its quiet, dark turn at the end, offers more drama than a million gimmicky plot twists, and stays with you.

Note: I will feature authors from time to time that my students and some blog readers might not be aware of, or might not be inclined to read without some prompting, though the authors in some cases will be quite well known. Those blog readers more than familiar with the authors in question are welcome to suggest works by the author for my readers to try.

Frank Wilson's blog led me to Andrew Cassel's Philadelphia Inquirer piece, Growing Market for Euphemisms. I wrote an essay a few years back about euphemisms, in which I referred to "my friend" (as you can see below). That friend, Chuck Sheehan, passed away (euphemism) almost two years ago, at the age of 33, I think. My forthcoming novel is dedicated in part to his memory. Chuck, who had osteogenesis imperfecta, had read the below and was not offended (in fact, he was the one who pointed me to the misconception about "handicapped"--a misconception he held at the time--when we discussed an early draft). So I'm posting it here:

Crippled Words (or, Words with Disabilities)

Our society is waging a war with the English language on many fronts, and, though some of the attacks might have noble origins, I am not sure all of the battles are winnable. In an effort to help people live to the fullest and feel good about themselves, an assault was launched on the words used to describe people who have permanent physical ailments. But the foe in this case is not just the English language, a formidable enough opponent; reality itself is under attack. And reality is capable of fighting back--the power of words includes their way of meaning what they really mean, regardless of our intentions.

I have a good friend who is--how does one say this these days? It isn’t appropriate to use the cliché, “confined to a wheelchair.” My friend does not live a confined life--he has an important job (I think he gets to fire people), drives a car, is bright and talented, has a wicked sense of humor, and, back in college, could drink most people under the table (sometimes literally). He isn’t “confined” to a wheelchair. But he certainly needs one to get around. He also has to be careful because he has fragile bones and has had frequent operations as a result of the condition with which he was born.

The preceding paragraph was too difficult to write. Not because of the emotional topic (I don’t feel pity when I think of my friend, and I don’t think he wants any, from me or anyone else)--it was difficult to write because society has developed a very sensitive set of rules about what we can call people who are...

What I wanted to say in the difficult second paragraph was this: my friend had a birth defect that left him crippled. But we don’t call people “crippled” anymore. And “birth defect” doesn’t seem particularly sensitive either, though it is accurate enough. Something in his development before birth was defective. Perhaps I shouldn’t be using this kind of language.

At some point, we stopped referring to people as having “birth defects” and as being “cripples.” It was demeaning. It defined them according to a physical condition. My friend isn’t a cripple; he is a person who happens to have a serious physical condition. “Cripple” is not the sum of his existence. I know that. So I understand why some people don’t like the word. Unfortunately for them, reality hasn’t allowed for very effective or acceptable alternatives.

What came after we discarded “crippled”? “Handicapped” was popular for a long time. Webster’s defines a “handicap” as “a race or other competition in which difficulties are imposed on the superior contestants ... to make their chances of winning equal.” A handicapped horse, for example, must wear weights to compensate for its greater speed. This ironic word-choice is evidence of the guilty motives that fuel political correctness. Healthy people felt bad, because they could walk and crippled people could not; they also felt bad because we have an awful word like “crippled.” Their solution was to choose a word, “handicapped,” that implies that there is something innately superior about these people. What’s the big deal? If it makes the healthy and the crippled both feel better, why not use “handicapped,” you might ask.

I don’t object. Let people be called whatever they wish. But reality objects, and soon after, so did the very people who had ordained “handicapped.” Eventually, “handicapped” was no longer an appropriate term to describe people with these physical conditions. How could that be? How could a word that more than implied the innate superiority of the people it was describing be insensitive or have negative connotations? Yet, it did have negative connotations, and had to be discarded.

A popular misconception is that “handicapped” was originally a reference to veterans crippled in World War I who had to hold their caps in their hands as they begged for money. Those who believe this think that “handicapped” was justifiably discarded because it implied that these people could not provide for themselves. However, the euphemism was applied to people well before the war and definitely originated in betting and horse racing. Though some people believe the myth, it is false; perhaps their belief is the result of a rationalization to avoid facing why “handicapped” couldn’t have lasted.

Its replacement, “physically disabled,” was doomed from the beginning. “Disabled” is not very friendly. How could we have chosen a word that sends the message that people are not able to do certain things? We tried “persons with disabilities”--physical condition wasn’t the fundamental fact of a person, just an accessory. This one is still favored by many, and seems a reasonable, inoffensive, and accurate choice.

But some couldn’t get past the stigma of “disability,” so they replaced it with “physically challenged.” This one is ridiculous on its face. Mountain climbers are physically challenged, too. “Physically challenged” might have some lasting power because it tells us precisely nothing about the people it purports to describe. Still, some have recognized that “physically challenged” is not informative enough or is too silly, and have discarded it in favor of “differently-abled.” I don’t know what to say about that one.

There is a simple reason none of these terms have sufficed. The clues were there way back with “handicapped.” If a word with only positive connotations was eventually thought to be insensitive, what word or term had a chance? None of them did, not because the English language doesn’t have enough words, but because reality is not always as easily manipulated by words as some would like.

The reality is that being crippled, or disabled, is negative. It isn’t negative because we use the word “crippled.” It does not become less negative when we use “physically challenged” or “differently-abled.” Every one of us with all of our parts in more or less full working order are happy to be in this condition, and none of us would gladly switch positions with a crippled person, even if we call that person a “person with disability.” Reality is more powerful than word-choice. Being disabled is not a desirable state, and any word or term used to describe that state will take on that undesirability. If tomorrow we begin referring to people in wheelchairs as “sexy” or “rich” or “wonderful,” it will not be long before these words take on negative connotations and are subsequently rejected as being insensitive.

Likewise, we have been unable to sufficiently name those with mental deficiencies. (I am reluctant to include them in the same essay as those with physical disabilities--I can recall my friend describing his frustration when strangers would talk to him as if he were not in full possession of his mental faculties, assuming that because he looked different he could not think well. But the language issues are too similar to be ignored.)

“Retarded” and “slow” have been rejected. “Slow” is an accurate, euphemistic description of somebody whose brain does not work as efficiently as it should, but the reality that it describes is unpleasant, so “slow” was eventually deemed inappropriate. (Saying that a brain “should” work at a certain efficiency is risky, just as we must now put “normal” in quotes to avoid being seen as insensitive.)

Even benign terms like “special education” are losing favor, though there is nothing negative about the word “special.” Parents do not want their children to be in special education classes, so we now have “learning support” teachers and classrooms. Of course, changing what we call things doesn’t make the children better able to learn, but the focus here is on abating our own unearned pangs of guilt and making people feel good, not on learning. How long until “learning support” is looked down upon with disdain? It is undesirable to be mentally retarded or even a little slow, just as it is undesirable to be physically disabled, and whatever words we use to describe these realities will come to embody that same negative undesirability.

This is not to say that people with disabilities or the mentally retarded are themselves negative or undesirable, or that we should ostracize them, or any such thing. There is nothing negative about my friend. All people should be encouraged to live to their potentials, whatever that might be. Perhaps that is why silly and inaccurate euphemisms were sought in the first place, but hiding reality with words is wrong, in the long run helps no one, and does not work.

It is time to start treating people with disabling conditions like people, time to throw away our hypersensitivity and wordplay that imply that they are incapable of facing reality and the challenges it brings. We often refer to people with these conditions as “brave” for just living their lives the best they can; I understand that--we admire those who fight against odds and overcome difficulties. Sometimes I do think that how my friend lives his life is brave, but I know that’s as patronizing as devising silly euphemisms--it is his only life. What choice does he have? We are all trying to live to our fullest, or ought to be.

... to write satire. Don't believe me? Read "Turk workers urge pope's arrest" on CNN.com. The money quote:

They said the pontiff had violated Turkish laws upholding freedom of belief and thought by "insulting" Islam and the Prophet Mohammed.

And really, what could a satirist, brilliant though he may be, possibly add to that?

I'm busy making what I hope will be final edits on my forthcoming novel, Mean Martin Manning, and will probably have little time for blogging for several days. So I'm going to steal a page from the music industry and, like a rock group that releases a greatest hits collection after recording only two studio albums, I will post links here to the greatest hits of the Scott Stein. I've been blogging since June 2006, almost a whole four months, and if you're just discovering me or came to my blog late, here's a good sampling:

I wrote about technology in Digital Cameras and Lost Childhood Memories and Serendipity Still Serendipitous.

Only a Theory is about bumper stickers and Evolution.

Be Happy They Wear Those Gloves (or Annals of Desperate TV Writing, ER Edition) takes on the sexual habits of America's most popular doctors.

In Armstrong--Harder than Hard, I distinguish between Neil and Lance.

Happy Birthday recounts my son's birth and is a reminder of how fortunate we are.

Meaning Enough offers a closer look at the copy on a toy package.

I note political correctness at war with itself in "At Risk for Overweight" and do some math after getting a sandwich in Lies, Damn Lies, and Subway.

In Praise of Consumer Culture is my answer to people "sick of the excesses of a nation..."

The challenges of writing and publishing are detailed in The Story of a Story: "The Stacker" and Novel Beginnings.

I proposed the Circumcision Jewish Conspiracy Theory, which for some reason has not yet caught on.

Here and there I've been posting brief reviews called "Book Notes."

For my humorous fiction, read Kangaroo Court and The Last Peanut.

Finally, I gave One More Reason I'm Not on NPR and tackled hysterical book blurb nonsense with This Is Not Chick Lit, or, What Gloria Steinem Doesn't Know Could Fill a Book, my most popular post to date, since Frank Wilson and Reason's Hit and Run both linked to it, which led to others linking to it.

That's it for the first four months. I hope this keeps you busy and entertained for a few days and makes you want to subscribe (free) or visit every week. And, of course, please read more about Mean Martin Manning.

At the deli counter I ordered lunch to go. "Turkey, cheese, lettuce, tomato, light mustard."

"Dark mustard?" she asked, taking notes.

"Yes." It was close enough.

"What kind of bread?"

"Rye."

"White?"

"No, rye."

"Rye," she said, writing it down. "Sorry about that."

A couple of minutes later I was home and ready to eat my sandwich. It really was a delicious turkey on white bread with mayo.