As a kid, I used to watch PBS programming (whenever "better" cartoons weren't on). Some of the shows I really liked. I particularly enjoyed Ghostwriter because it was tangentially connected to writing. Even at a young age, I thought I would be an author (and my past self would likely be a little disappointed that, by age 33, I was still without a book deal). Whenever that--or any other PBS show would come on--it would say something about support coming from "viewers like you." Being young, I didn't quite understand what that meant. Was the "you" talking about me? I didn't know how I was "supporting" the show, except trying to watch it. Still, they kept thanking me. I guessed I was making a difference.
I have yet to donate to a PBS station, though I used to support my local NPR affiliate, until we hit a bit of a financial crunch and stopped. Though we're better off financially, I haven't bothered to resume the donations.
Instead, I put my money into other things--stuff I want to support. This can be difficult, because I have a limited amount of discretionary cash, and I'd like it to go as far as possible. At the same time, I try to deposit into a book-buying bank of sorts: If I buy from the local Barnes and Noble (the closest independent book store is prohibitively far away for me to frequent it), I will be building up some sort of karmic accumulation that will leverage into someone else, somewhere else, being willing to try one of my books. It's silly, but it's how I work.
If I can't find the book at the brick-and-mortar--or if it would be too expensive to order new--I purchase online. I try to keep my impulse purchases to the brick-and-mortar, because it supports everyone along the line, from the employee who's ringing me up to the top of the pile publishing houses.
And that's what has me thinking. An imprint of Simon & Schuster, called Threshold Editions, inked a book deal with, for lack of a less ambiguous term, a neo-Nazi. The story goes that the author was given $250,000 in advance (which, for those who don't really follow this sort of thing, is almost unheard of when it comes to a "debut" author; though this guy isn't some unknown, which is certainly why he received that much money) and, when the story broke, the preorders alone put it on the best-seller lists.
As one may expect, outrage followed. After all, why should a person who actively called harm and harassment to other human beings be given a large advance--financial validation--for telling his story of his ideas? Boycotting the book has been called for, though that always seems to elevate the thing that's being boycotted. If the point is to let the book be a financial disaster for the imprint, then telling people not to buy a book--one they likely hadn't heard of until being told not to buy it--is likely to have the opposite of the desired effect.
I don't want to go into depth with the particulars of the case, as I haven't read the author's ideas myself--I feel as though alt-right contributors and the gamergate/neo-Nazi/internet troll crowd get too much exposure of their regressive thoughts as it is--I'm more interested in looking at Threshold Editions.
Do you remember this? Because of the conservative-leaning leadership of Chick-fil-A, there was a wellspring of what Jon Stewart (or maybe it was Stephen Colbert) called "snacktivism", where the culture wars are fought in appreciation days. People sought out Chick-fil-A and patronized their stores in order to demonstrate their solidarity against same-sex marriage. The financial support of the patrons wasn't the exchange of money for goods and services--it was a declaration of agreement and amplification of political speech.
I have yet to donate to a PBS station, though I used to support my local NPR affiliate, until we hit a bit of a financial crunch and stopped. Though we're better off financially, I haven't bothered to resume the donations.
Instead, I put my money into other things--stuff I want to support. This can be difficult, because I have a limited amount of discretionary cash, and I'd like it to go as far as possible. At the same time, I try to deposit into a book-buying bank of sorts: If I buy from the local Barnes and Noble (the closest independent book store is prohibitively far away for me to frequent it), I will be building up some sort of karmic accumulation that will leverage into someone else, somewhere else, being willing to try one of my books. It's silly, but it's how I work.
If I can't find the book at the brick-and-mortar--or if it would be too expensive to order new--I purchase online. I try to keep my impulse purchases to the brick-and-mortar, because it supports everyone along the line, from the employee who's ringing me up to the top of the pile publishing houses.
And that's what has me thinking. An imprint of Simon & Schuster, called Threshold Editions, inked a book deal with, for lack of a less ambiguous term, a neo-Nazi. The story goes that the author was given $250,000 in advance (which, for those who don't really follow this sort of thing, is almost unheard of when it comes to a "debut" author; though this guy isn't some unknown, which is certainly why he received that much money) and, when the story broke, the preorders alone put it on the best-seller lists.
As one may expect, outrage followed. After all, why should a person who actively called harm and harassment to other human beings be given a large advance--financial validation--for telling his story of his ideas? Boycotting the book has been called for, though that always seems to elevate the thing that's being boycotted. If the point is to let the book be a financial disaster for the imprint, then telling people not to buy a book--one they likely hadn't heard of until being told not to buy it--is likely to have the opposite of the desired effect.
I don't want to go into depth with the particulars of the case, as I haven't read the author's ideas myself--I feel as though alt-right contributors and the gamergate/neo-Nazi/internet troll crowd get too much exposure of their regressive thoughts as it is--I'm more interested in looking at Threshold Editions.
Writing for the Right
A glance at their website shows that the alt-right darling will fit in well with the types of things that Threshold Editions normally publishes: Polemics, conservative politicians' books, and conservative-based interpretations of recent--and not so recent--history. While the landing page doesn't contain all that Threshold publishes, it's easy to see that, in terms of financial stability, they are doing well. Some big names, including the President-Elect and former vice-presidents, grace the covers of their titles. Defenses of every stripe of conservatism are present.
There's nothing inherently wrong with an imprint being what it is and increasing a stable of authors that represent the values of the imprint. And, on a strictly economic sense, there is obviously a market for neo-Nazi thinking, which Threshold is comfortable endorsing and profiting off of, which is their prerogative. That's the point of the free-market, inasmuch as this is a free-market.
And that's where it gets a little difficult. See, I wish to be a writer. My dream is to one day make enough off of my writing so as to teach out of passion, not economic necessity--to give my wife the option of continuing to teach or to be a stay-at-home mom. But now I'm opening up my eyes to the complicated world of publishing, and I wonder if I would be brave enough to refuse working with Simon & Schuster, if one of their imprints asked me to.
An imprint, after all, is a smaller, niche publishing "room" within the "publishing house". This website really clearly demarcates how they "Big Five" of the publishing world are actually connected. Threshold is one of dozens of Simon & Schuster imprints, but, based upon the titles they publish, it's obvious that it's a highly lucrative one. These imprints are necessary so that other books can get published. Many of the people who make a living as an author do so because the Big Five make enough money elsewhere so they can take a chance on a different, unknown author. Very few are wealthy; most make enough to pay a mortgage and scrimp by.
But that's where it gets convoluted. If I were to be signed by Atria, which is a subsidiary of Simon & Schuster, am I "not involved" with Threshold enough to feel as though I'm not contributing to what is, in my estimation, published hate speech? In terms of flat out money, I'm obviously not: my cash would come through Atria. But my work would also be supporting Simon & Schuster, which in turn was the one both backing and profiting off of the celebrity of a man whose fame came because he tormented a woman online and published vile, hateful things that gained him notoriety and, apparently, a quarter of a million dollars up front. Would I want to be a part of that publishing house at all?
Bowing to the Dollar
One response to this thought: In this hypothetical, I'm not contributing to Threshold--I'm contributing to Atria.* I could simply ignore the politics, implications, or collaborations that are here and say Atria is paying me. End of story.
I really don't know how to parse these concepts. On one hand, I would be competing with anything that Threshold published, hoping to pull in buyers of my ideas over theirs. I would be allowing the market to decide which was worth buying.
But there's a darkness to that, a cynical abdication of judgment to the callous cash payment. If what is worthwhile is only registered via its financial worth, then what's good is what's popular, and what's popular is what's lucrative. By most counts, the mainstream erotica series Fifty Shades of Grey is poorly written, conceived, and filled with cliches, tropes, and stereotypes that are so egregiously bad that the book deserves little accolades. Yet it's one of the most published books on the planet. There are millions of copies of this book. Should its economic viability be the criterion we want for its value or worth? Similarly, should the Transformers movies, which have grossed a combined $3.7 billion be the height of cinematic art? Or the well-done but by no means most important of films, the Marvel Cinematic Universe? Is Star Wars: The Phantom Menace the best of the first six episodes because it pulled in a billion dollars?
As much as my father inspires and helps me as I try to navigate the world, I think I have to disagree with his calculation as to whether or not to take a gig as a musician. His criterion was always, "Will it pay? Then I'll do it." But I'm confident there are things he'd refuse to do. I doubt he would have played for President Obama's inauguration, had he been asked--differing politics--or playing part of a score that was written for, say, a porno. Even if money were involved, I feel like he would draw the line somewhere, if pressed.
I feel like that may be a similar thing. I don't want to be tangentially responsible for supporting the spreading of hate speech, but how many businesses do I patronize that do already? This is the tricky part of massive conglomerations: Even little things trickle upwards. It reminds me of the call to boycott (or support) businesses that supported (or opposed) gay marriage. This picture of Rick Santorum springs to mind:
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| I didn't expect to see Rick Santorum on my blog...like, ever. Source. |
But I'm not sure if this is a good thing. I don't know the ins-and-outs of the Chick-fil-A business model, but I'm fairly certain that some of the people and businesses with whom they work are gay and/or support marriage equality. And there are a lot of foods that, through their advertising or other means, have indicated the opposite position of Chick-fil-A. For example, a video (possibly a parody, of course...it's hard to know for certain on the internet) shows a man lighting a box of Cheerios on fire in protest of General Mills' pro-gay commitment. Aside from burning cereal, should someone who opposes equal rights for gay couples do anything about the ways corporations speak? Should someone avoid Hobby Lobby because of their misogyny? Should one enroll her son in the Boy Scouts of America because she agrees with their policy of disallowing openly gay participants into the troops? And are we to read people's economic choices against the backdrop of political speech? Should I assume that someone who eats at Taco Bell is in favor of marriage equality, since Taco Bell's parent company, Yum! brands, earns an 80 on the Human Rights Campaign website? This seems like a weird way for me to choose which businesses I frequent. Maybe I shouldn't buy Taco Bell because I don't like the flavor, its price, its bathrooms, or the explosive diarrhea I suffer when I eat there. Shouldn't those be the factors, rather than whether or not I agree with the politics of the corporation?
On the other hand, I really wish that Threshold's decision to give hate speech a larger platform and the trappings of legitimacy would fail economically. That it would end up losing money for having made this choice. I don't want neo-Nazism to gain the impression of legitimacy. Since I'm not a governmental agency, I don't have the ability to censor the speech of Threshold and its authors, nor is my recommendation that people not patronize or read their books an impingement of free speech. However, it seems like money is the intersubjective lexicon of the country, and so in some ways the only way to actually speak about this book deal is to not speak about it in a way that would encourage a financial investment in the ideas it purports.
English is already a difficult language, filled with contradictions and problems. Trying to add financial support as a piece of communication makes it all the harder.
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* I'm not, actually, particularly interested, necessarily, in Atria as a publisher for anything I write--neither do I think they'd be interested in my writings, either. As a hypothetical, they are part of Simon & Schuster; as a practical choice, they were the first in the alphabetical list. I'm not vying for a book deal from them. I think that's pretty clear in my essay, but I didn't want there to be any ambiguity.