Toilet paper and the tragedy of the commons

I've held my tongue on the coronavirus outbreak because frankly I don't know what to make of it. I've found both the argument for taking precautions and the argument for doing nothing convincing. My attitude is to err on the side of doing nothing.

Back when I used to listen to Ric Edelman, he said something that stuck with me: "Don't just do something, stand there!" In the original context, it meant don't react to one bad day or one bad week in the stock market. In a general context, it means any decision you make in the moment will probably be the wrong one. Also, during my formative years in Maryland, the overhyped swine flu and overhyped Hurricane Irene taught me I didn't need to concern myself with stuff the media told me to be concerned about.

Now here we are, a day after all the major sports in America postponed or cancelled games, when many schools and colleges either extended Spring Break or canceled classes. I don't know whether we'll all be laughing about this on Tax Day, or we'll be talking about the Dow Jones slumping past 15,000.

I personally have not been affected by the coronavirus or the public reaction. Work is the same, church is the same, family life is the same. Writing is the same (i.e., really hard). If it's not in front of me, how can it inconvenience me?

It would be overstating it to call the reaction to the coronavirus in America a "panic." It's merely a significant number of people taking precautions, like when an unpredictable hurricane bears down on you. But let's apply "panic" loosely. When does panic become the rational choice? When does it become my best interest to react not on my instincts or reason, but on the actions of others?

Here's a thought experiment for you. Imagine a pot of money in the middle of a large group of people. Each person puts in a hundred bucks. Every minute, the amount of money in the pot increases by 2 percent. This happens until an hour is up, whereupon the group will divide the money evenly, each person earning a 200% profit for standing there and doing nothing.

I would probably be that guy telling everyone, "Nobody take money out, and in an hour we'll all be rich." I have that kind of temperament. Of course that's factually true, but this scenario isn't testing our math skills. It's testing social trust. If you're one of those people, do you trust the others? More importantly, do they trust you?

Here's how the experiment will break down before the hour is up. Someone takes money, then someone else, then three more people, then it becomes a free for all. At the beginning, almost everyone trusted each other to wait. But for the experiment to reach the end of the hour, you need everyone to trust each other. No group acting collectively is more trustful than its least trustful member, which is why most groups don't make it to the end of the experiment. It's a negative feedback loop: The less money there is in the pot, the more I want to take. This is called the tragedy of the commons.

Let's apply this to the most visible example of the so-called panic we've seen so far, the oft-memed toilet paper shortage. There's no shortage if no one hoards toilet paper, right? So why doesn't everyone behave like good little rational robots for the common good? Because people aren't robots, and once there's a whiff that some preppers cleaned out Costco, there's a run on toilet paper because no one wants to wipe their butt bare-handed.

When a run is in progress, it's silly to go around squawking that if everyone just acted rationally, there'd be nothing to worry about. My rational observation is that people are irrational, and sometimes the rational act is to act irrationally.

In other words, if you see toilet paper, buy it.

As always, let me know what you think in the comments. I'll reply to you as soon as I can. If you're looking for something to do besides watch basketball or hockey, I invite you to read the first 4 chapters of my new book, Seeds of Calamity, for free. If it piques your interest, get yourself a copy at Amazon. I appreciate the support!

For a free digital copy of my debut, Tendrils to the Moon, sign up for the mailing list on the right side of the blog page. Or, if you're viewing this on the mobile site, click here.

Michael Crichton's quantum deception

Michael Crichton was the writer who made me want to be a writer. The way he blended cutting-edge science and rollicking action popularized the technothriller genre. All my early attempts at writing fiction were in many ways an emulation of his style.

I read through most of Crichton's catalog in my pre-teens, but I didn't get to arguably his last great book, Timeline, until my second year of high school. My English teacher, Mrs. Coan, assigned the book for us to read.

Timeline's premise is that a group of young archaeologists go back in time to save their mentor, who's stranded in 14th century France. He was sent there by a company that found a way to exploit quantum technology and pioneer time travel.

Like Jurassic Park, the plot's credibility relies on the plausibility of the premise. Mosquitos stuck in tree sap with a belly full of dino DNA sounds true. So does Crichton's explanation of quantum theory in Timeline. His brilliance shines in the way he disguises fiction in exposition.

Crichton begins by illustrating the wave-particle duality of light. Note how one of the trusted characters, Stern, plays right into Gordon's hands at the top of page 129.

Can you spot the deception? It's in the paragraph immediately above the illustration on page 129. When you detect individual photons (or electrons) passing through a slit, they don't produce an interference pattern. They behave like particles, not waves, and therefore follow a linear path. This only happens when you detect individual photons, and it's one of the great unexplained mysteries of science.

Popular Mechanics breaks it down better than I can:

The idea behind the double-slit experiment is that even if the photons are sent through the slits one at a time, there's still a wave present to produce the interference pattern. The wave is a wave of probability, because the experiment is set up so that the scientists don't know which of the two slits any individual photon will pass through.

But if they try to find out by setting up detectors in front of each slit to determine which slit the photon really goes through, the interference pattern doesn't show up at all. This is true even if they try setting up the detectors behind the slits. No matter what the scientists do, if they try anything to observe the photons, the interference pattern fails to emerge.

Crichton completes the deception on page 130:

It's so intuitive, it must be true, right? After this, all that's left to do, creatively, is build a plausible technology that transmits a person through the interference created by these nonexistent photons, and you've got the setup for multiverse travel—specifically, time travel.

What I admire almost as much as Crichton's craft is his gumption. Surely he knew a small percentage of his readers would know he was fibbing to his audience. He went ahead with it anyway, trusting the majority's credulity and suspension of disbelief.

It's a lesson I take to heart. In my sci-fi books, I strive to limit technology to things the reader recognizes. My natural tendency is to get carried away and focus too much on the Xs and Os of the world instead of on plot and characters. It's an issue I worked on for my second book, Seeds of Calamity. (Although I've been told by some they preferred my more detailed debut, Tendrils to the Moon.)

Read and see for yourself. You'll find the first 4 chapters of Seeds of Calamity here. If it piques your interest, get yourself a copy at Amazon. For a free digital copy of Tendrils to the Moon, sign up for the mailing list on the right side of the blog page. Or, if you're viewing this on a mobile device, click here. I appreciate the support!

As always, leave a comment below. I'll respond to you as soon as I can.

Dinosaur Wars: Earthfall review

Tom's DINOSAUR WARS books have been described as "Star Wars meets Jurassic Park." Filled with action and adventure, his stories follow Yellowstone Park naturalist Chase Armstrong and Montana rancher's daughter Kit Daniels in their struggle to survive an invasion of intelligent dinosaurs returning from space. The invaders intend to reclaim their home world, bringing all the other huge beasts of the past with them! Hopp writes savvy science fiction suitable for all ages.

With a cover like that, and at the cost of nothing on Kindle, you better believe I'm going to give Dinosaur Wars: Earthfall by Thomas P. Hopp a whirl.

The first and obvious question is: Does the book follow through on the promises of its cover? 100% YES. There are rampaging dinosaurs, tank battles, horseback riding, and space warfare galore. There's even a mecha element, as the invading dinosaurs' tank equivalent is a 10 foot-tall dinomorphic fighting machine.

Far from being a goofy romp through all the tropes of genre fiction, Earthfall takes its dino invasion premise seriously. The stock characters become three-dimensional as they grow together and face new challenges. Even the dinos themelves, which are intelligent, have depth.

That, by the way, was the biggest surprise of Earthfall. In Planet of the Apes fashion, there are multiple dino characters with different ideas about how to deal with the human race. Hopp took special care to flesh out the dinos' back story, even so far as to give them a mythology and spoken language. These scenes contrast well with the typical "invasion" scenes, brief one-shots alien dinos descending and/or taking over different parts of the country.

Ironically, the story elements that most beggar belief don't have to do with a dinosaur moonbase or an alien invasion, but the ease with which the threat is resolved in the book's final act. This problem was mitigated by the fact that my impressions of the book were already set, and the bulk of the action we actually get to "see" is believable.

"How do you fight an enemy shooting at your from Phaeon Crater? Every twenty-four hours the earth rotates like a giant rotisserie. When the moon is overhead we get blasted." -Brig. Gen. Matthew Davis

There are four main plots in the book, the central plot centering on a ranch in Montana's Bear Tooth Mountains. The sideplots include the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in California, the Cheyenne Mountain Complex in Colorado, and a roving Army tank troop. After a few exposition-rich chapters to set the table, the plot moves with crackling energy. Hopp demonstrates skill in his prose, marrying character thought and action with good pacing.

There's much more to this story than people running around trying not to get eaten by dinosaurs. There are victories and defeats, comeuppances and second chances, mutinies and armistices. The characters with their varied motivations and backgrounds are true to reality, which makes the suspension of disbelief that much easier.

In conclusion, this book surprised me with its commitment to spinning a sprawling, entertaining story from an admittedly silly premise. The mashup of genres--alien invasion, dinosaur, sci-fi, mecha, thriller--just works. And, I might add, there's no objectionable content that would keep a child from reading it. It's truly a book for all ages. I give it five stars out of five.

There are four books in Hopp's Dinosaur Wars series. The next book is Counterattack, whose cover is just as enticing as Earthfall's.

Leave a comment below if you want me to read and review it.

I invite you to read the first 4 chapters of my new sci-fi book, Seeds of Calamity, for free. If it piques your interest, get yourself a copy at Amazon. I appreciate the support!

For a free digital copy of my debut book, Tendrils to the Moon, sign up for the mailing list on the right side of the blog page. Or, if you're viewing this on the mobile site, click here.

Tradpub vs libraries part 2

Macmillan's embargo on ebook library lending should serve as a warning to everyone, libraries included, that tradpub is entering its terminal stage. Only companies backed into a corner commit such bizarre acts of seeming pettiness and irrationality. The news today that the newly merged ViacomCBS is putting Simon & Schuster up for sale is another data point trending downward for tradpub.

As the LA Times notes, the likeliest buyer of S&S is another one of the Big 5 publishers, which would mean a further concentration of clout in the (albeit shrinking) publishing industry. This raises the risk that Macmillan's ebook dispute with libraries could grow in scope and affect a larger share of new published books than it does now.

It helps to look at this dispute in terms of a labor strike. Macmillan controls the books, or the labor force, and libraries control product distribution. Publishers can hold back their "labor" to negotiate better ebook licensing terms with libraries. Libraries, under pressure from customers--or their members--would be forced to negotiate or lose their members.

Most big publishers rely on a handful of writers and highly publicized releases each year to turn a profit. Some writers, household names like James Patterson or Stephen King, have as much, if not more, power as the imprints that publish them. One of them could opportunistically cross the picket line and negotiate ebook licensing on his own.

Or something else could happen. Libraries could read the tea leaves foretelling tradpub's doom and change their acquisition model. There are independent publishers and self-published writers who are dying to be read. They would love love love to sell ebook licenses to libraries. The conversion rate of freeloaders to paying customers is high owing to the higher premium readers put on their time, as opposed to their money.

The good news is most libraries are set up to directly serve their communities. They're naturally inclined to feature local authors and local presses. If they've been on the fence about pivoting to the indie book scene, this Macmillan embargo might be all the convincing they need.

It doesn't hurt to try. Macmillan's gambit presents an opportunity too good to pass up for agile, independent writers and publishers with high growth ceilings. Seize it.

Here's the American Library Association's FAQ on the embargo.

Speaking for myself, I give my book to anyone who asked if I knew they were going to read it. I do, in fact, give my debut book Tendrils to the Moon to anyone who signs up for my mailing list. You can sign up for the mailing list on the right side of the blog page. Or, if you're viewing this on the mobile site, click here.

Also, you can read the first 4 chapters of my newest book, Seeds of Calamity, for free. If it piques your interest, get yourself a copy at Amazon. I appreciate the support!

So very ugly

"It was an aesthetic choice as much as a moral one. The West has grown so very ugly, don’t you think?" -The traitor in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy

This post will be a change of pace. Bear with me.

Six years ago, on a mission trip to Danlí, Honduras, we were on our way from the church to the hotel. We passed a boy lying in the street, with what I think was club foot, his palms up in a pleading gesture. I didn't break my stride.

Such scenes aren't uncommon in the Third World, or in our densest cities in America. Such open display of suffering instills a certain kind of indifference. It doesn't mean you lack compassion, just that you adjust your sensibilities to the perceived normal.

Now and again I think about that boy with sadness and fury. How can anyone live like that? And what can be done? That's the worst part of it, that feeling of fecklessness and impotence.

Those feelings resurfaced when I saw this video making the rounds on the Internet. This perverted initiation ritual is made all the more disturbing by the enthusiasm of the adults in attendance. They take pleasure in destroying this child's innocence.

And we wonder why there are more sexually confused, gender dysphoric children than ever. Don’t tell me it’s “all nature” and they’ve been there all along. https://t.co/lYMP5VZ1qK

— Jared Monroe (@TheJaredMonroe) February 28, 2020

I fantasized about rescuing this child from these demented people. But, in truth, what could I do? This child, like the club-footed boy in Honduras, has little hope. This is her normal. Every adult in her life, even her parents, are grooming her for what Brian Neiemaier and others call the Death Cult.

Poverty conditions can be alleviated by material changes. This can only be fixed by spiritual warfare. There can be little doubt the evil one occupies the hearts of many Americans, and his displays are getting bolder.

But Jesus Christ our Savior is more powerful than him. By venerating His name and what He stands for, we can re-evangelize the culture so this doesn't have to be the norm.

This is the highest calling of art. It need not be cold or moralistic. It need only point at truth.

As always, let me know what you think in the comments. I'll reply to you as soon as I can. I invite you to read the first 4 chapters of my new sci-fi book, Seeds of Calamity, for free. If it piques your interest, get yourself a copy at Amazon. I appreciate the support!

For a free digital copy of my debut book, Tendrils to the Moon, sign up for the mailing list on the right side of the blog page. Or, if you're viewing this on the mobile site, click here.

Literary racketeering

As a follow-on to my post about the furor over American Dirt, there is something creepy about the sins tradpub imagines itself to have committed, and the self-effacing ways it elects to be cleansed of guilt. Read this, courtesy of Publishers Weekly:

"Roberto, David, and I came to New York on a restorative and reparative mission," Gurba said in her statement at the press conference. "We came not only to extend an olive branch to Flatiron. We came to offer our assistance in restoring the dignity of all parties harmed. We offered Flatiron a chance to wipe away the dirt."

In a statement sent to PW Wednesday evening, Gurba added: "Overall, the meeting went well. You could smell the discomfort of some folks in the room and that was important: meaningful change is typically accompanied by 'growing pains' and B.O. I was also able to express to [Macmillan executives] that while this experience has undoubtedly been difficult for them, having my life repeatedly threatened for engaging in literary criticism has not been fun."

This goes well beyond a shakedown. Gurba describes the meeting in messianic language. She arrived on a "mission" to ritually "wipe away the dirt." But not before she laid into them, condemning them for their supposed crimes. In one hand she held their guilt, which she offered freely. In the other she held absolution, which came at a cost.

(Note how Gurba justifies the executives' pain by citing the threats she has received, as if the executives are somehow responsible for the blowback against her race-based critiques. When your life is repeatedly threatened, I suspect you're doing more than just writing book reviews.)

The cost of absolution won't be limited to the reparations Macmillan promised the apostles of #DignidadLiteraria. Ostensibly every publisher's task is to sell books. That mission is now subverted by the new task of enforcing racial quotas in their workforce and book content. As a result, Macmillan's market share will decline. Remember, if what Gurba et al. are asking for sold books, Macmillan would have beeing doing it already.

Here's another publisher who kow-towed to a racially motivated mob:

Last season, we published a memoir by a white author writing about falling in love with China, and a Chinese man. The cover featured the author wearing a qipao. Despite all I’d experienced, I didn’t see the cultural appropriation. I thought she had a “pass” because she was married to a Chinese man, because this was her lived experience. But book influencers on Instagram squarely took us to task. We read their posts, listened to their objections, and changed the cover. The dialogue with our critics was not comfortable, but the outcome was satisfactory—for us and for them.

One side lobbing accusations at another isn't "dialogue." In the social media age, it's racketeering. Dialogue is something that happens between equals, not between those who wield the power to libel and their prospective victims.

The cover depicted the content of the book, a woman assimilating to her new country, and was entirely appropriate. The only satisfactory outcome in this case was for the mob to stick their objections where the sun don't shine, and for the publisher to leverage their outrage into free marketing.

Perhaps you think I'm being too crass about this. Let me know in the comments below. I'll respond as soon as I can.

My latest book, Seeds of Calamity, is now available at Barnes & Noble. You're welcome to read the first 4 chapters for free; if they pique your interest, get yourself a copy. I appreciate the support!

For a free digital copy of my debut book, Tendrils to the Moon, sign up for the mailing list on the right side of the blog page. Or, if you're viewing this on the mobile site, click here.

On the American Dirt frenzy

So Jeanine Cummins wrote a book called American Dirt about a Mexican woman and her son fleeing a drug cartel and making a run at the U.S. border, and literary critics of a certain bent are panning it—not because it's bad, although it might be—but because Cummins appropriated a culture that doesn't "belong" to her.

Appropriation is when you speak from another person's POV or temporarily adopt their traits as your own. In short, it's what writers do. You create a character; you build the setting around them; you give them traits, some of them personal, others cultural; and you drop them in a conflict that allows them to overcome and grow. It's a benign practice, and it's been done for hundreds if not thousands of years. It's especially common in fantasy, sci-fi, and historical fiction. Whether you're writing for an elf, a Klingon, or a Roman soldier, you're trying to show the reader something he hasn't seen, hopefully something magical.

The key word here is "try." Sometimes it's done well, like in a book I'm reading now, a Japanese historical fantasy by David V. Stewart called Muramasa. Sometimes it's not done well, like in a technothriller called Arctic Rising. The former succeeded because the Japanese characters fit the setting and the story DVS wanted to tell. The latter failed because the author, Tobias Buckell, was clearly using his Nigerian lesbian hero to check diversity boxes and further his sociopolitical agenda.

I don't know and don't really care if Cummins succeeded in portraying an authentic Mexican woman. What bothers me is other people telling her she can't because she's white. Mexican immigrant culture isn't "hers," so she should leave the story for someone else to tell. It's amazing this cretinous tripe still gets peddled in 2020 America after decades of mainstreaming racial egalitarianism through every cultural institution. If a Latino had written this book, seriously, what publisher wouldn't want to publish it?

Esmeralda Bermudez is at the forefront of the backlash. Check our her Twitter feed. She's particularly aggrieved there's not enough diversity in publishing. (Maybe the problem is there's not enough diversity among readers.) Conveniently you never hear what percentage of representation diversity activists want. Setting a hard quota would preface an eventual end to the grievance, thus an end to the movement. But the movement mustn't end. It's not about diversity. It's about leveraging racial grievance to exercise an insatiable will to power.

Book publicists put on a full-court press for American Dirt: securing Oprah's endorsement, printing blurbs from Stephen King and John Grisham, etc. I went to Costco last Friday and there must have been a hundred hardbacks for sale. Now, the publisher has canceled the rest of the book tour and replaced it with a shorter series of Maoist struggle sessions where Cummins will have to engage with critics telling her she can't write what she wants because of her skin color. There's a word for that: racism.

With that out of the way, I think Cummins is partly to blame for this. Whatever catharsis of racial attention she hoped to achieve with the subject matter will not come up pass. In fact, she's made it worse. Her appeasing attitude and willing acknowledgement of her "privilege" is all grifters need to delegitimize her success. As soon as you admit you profited unfairly from a supposedly racist system, you have no defense against that success being taken from you.

Courting this ugliness won't save tradpub. It will accelerate its ruin. Meanwhile, independent creators are putting out great books. They have one aim above all: entertainment.

You can judge for yourself whether I've done that in my own writing by taking a look at the first 4 chapters of Seeds of Calamity. If it piques your interest, get yourself a copy at Amazon. I appreciate the support!

For a free digital copy of my debut book, Tendrils to the Moon, sign up for the mailing list on the right side of the blog page. Or, if you're viewing this on the mobile site, click here.

And as always, let me know what you think in the comments. I'll reply as soon as I can.