The Invisible Library

The Machine Of The World is selling well, beyond what I had hoped. Thanks to everyone who has bought a copy so far!

This is a first edition and as such, there are probably a few typos lurking between the covers. It happens. Stephen King has typos, and he has an army of proof readers and professional editors.* And in the case of someone who wrote, illustrated, designed and typeset their own book, well, it’d be a miracle if there weren’t a few typos somewhere.

So, consider this an open thread: if you find any typos in The Machine Of The World, leave a comment, telling me page number, paragraph and what the goof is. In a few months, when the book has been thoroughly combed through, I’ll make the changes and put up a second edition.†

Update 5/8/08: I’ve moved this back to the top and reopened comments. I’ve also added various formats to the free download option. You can now download a pdf, txt, html or Open Document Text file. There’s even a Word doc version. That’s right, I’m giving away Microsoft proprietary software. For Free. I’m sure Bill Gates will wake up tonight in a cold sweat, knowing that someone, somewhere didn’t pay money for something with the Microsoft name on it. Come and get me, Bill!

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* 86 years after publication, James Joyce’s Ulysses still has typos. In fact, there are whole sections that scholars debate over matters of typography and vocabulary, because Joyce had lifelong vision problems, hand wrote the manuscript and made constant revisions and corrections, sometimes contradicting previous edits, making it nearly impossible for there to be a consensus as to what the proper text should look like. MOTW has no such problems, as I follow standard typography and spelling conventions. The made up words are obvious and, I think, are consistently spelled throughout. When in doubt though, the spelling of the first use of the word is correct.

† Which means these first editions will be extra-valuable one day when I’m a famous author. Or just orthographic oddities from the long lost age of late-stage capitalist America, suitable for barter with the other roaming tribes of nomadic hunter gatherers scrabbling a hard existence in the drowned world of a post-oil collapse/globally warmed over society. Whichever comes first.

So, I was reading Pandagon yesterday when I discovered that some really weird folk think Battlestar Galactica is secretly a Mormon recruitment tool[1]. Their evidence? The show makes use of religious imagery and mythology. Which is pretty week as arguments for propaganda go. By this definition, Superman,[2] Star Wars[3] and everything Philip K. Dick[4] ever wrote is also super secret (but right out there in the open) religious propaganda.

Once upon a time, this argument might have applied to the original BSG, which was Mormon mythology dressed up in swank, quilted late seventies space opera. But the new series? Not so much. As Amanda Marcotte pointed out, just because a story derives some of its momentum from popular religious ideas doesn’t automatically mean the creators are promoting that religion. Also, religious pluralism, modern gender roles with women in leadership positions and decidedly secular attitudes towards sex, drinking and drug use don’t exactly scream, “Join The Mormons!” As with any artfully done work of storytelling, it’s not that simple. BSG can’t be broken down into simple declarative statements about its morals and message. It’s a nuanced discussion of various current ideas.

But there is one really obvious way you can tell that BSG isn’t telling it from the mountain: stories told with an ideological agenda are no fun. Whether they are serialized TV dramas, movies, comics or novels, an ideologically driven narrative stands out because the author is selling you a flat pack of easy answers to hard questions. And he (usually it’s a he) is not afraid to beat you silly with the truth stick to make his point[5]. This has some predictable effect on the way the story is told.
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We’re off to Jacksonville for the weekend. Lucy’s in charge.

I’m usually disappointed by literary best-of lists, because the compiler is either out to prove his erudition by naming obscure and pointless titles and leaving off well known but still notable ones, or because they make me feel inferior for having not read most of the supposed great titles on the list, especially the obscure ones no one has ever heard of. However, the Telegraph has a list of their 50 best cult novels is pretty good, and not just because I’ve read most of them. It’s a pretty decent list as these things go, if a bit incomplete–it leaves off Naked Lunch, which is pretty much the dictionary definition of cult novel. Also, no Brautigan or Lovecraft. Anyway, their descriptions make up for the incompleteness. My vote for snarkist short summary:

The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand (1943)
Bewilderingly popular and extremely silly Nietzschean melodrama, in which Ayn Rand gives her mad arch-capitalist philosophy a run round the block in the person of Howard Roark, a flouncy architect. Loved by the kind of person who tells you selfishness is an evolutionary advantage, before stealing your house/lover/job.

Nicely done.

I wold add The Hearing Trumpet, by Leonora Carrington, which might be a little too obscure for cult status, but it definitely has a place in my heart and on my bookshelf. Any other titles not on the list?

Greetings to all my Communist Comrades!

Secret handshakes to my Anarchist buddies!

For all you Socialist Workers out there, keep up the good work!

I hope all you Witches had a lovely Walpurgis Night and many happy turns around the May Pole! Think of me whilst you frolic.

It’s a joy to see hundreds of little Catholic School Children twirling around a fertility symbol, all in honor of the Virgin. Wink.

Happy Birthday Ma Sanchez!

Unfortunately, May 1st is The National Day of Prayer, according to the Bush Administration*. Fuckers know how to spoil a good thing, that’s for damn sure.

A holiday about activism and social reform? Not anymore! Now it’s a day to commemorate the absolute, literal least you could possibly do to change anyone’s situation, anywhere.

Part of the appeal of a book is seeing the thing as an object. Even better is holding it in your hand.

Just so as not to leave Hillary lingering at the top of the blog, I give you three baby lions.

Dear Senator Clinton,

Congratulations on winning the Pennsylvania Primary! Will you drop out now?

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One of the reoccurring problems in serialized storytelling is Villain Decay. Your Big Bad appears, scares the bejesus out of the hero, who just barely survives the first encounter to fight another day for Truth, Justice and another sign post an the way to Earth. But by the sixth or seventh time the villain appears, the hero has figured out their week spots and they are easily defeated. If they keep coming back after that, this big bad scary villain devolves into a joke.

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