Customer Reviews

Digital Barbarism: A Writer's Manifesto

5 star:		(13)
4 star:		(2)
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2 star:		(6)
1 star:		(8)

 

 

As the author of thirty-seven books, I have (obviously) a keen interest in the subject of copyright. Hence I read, and savored, this book by Mark Helprin, whom I regret not having encountered before. His writing is dense--i.e., you don't breeze through it quickly, for he has chosen his words (and thoughts) carefully, and trying to skim and skip would be like trying to gulp down a gourmet meal. He digresses often, and well, but he keeps coming back to the main subject, that in our digital age we have lost sight of what constitutes good writing, and thus many people (Helprin's critics, of whom there appear to be thousands)seem to believe it is "selfish" for writers to be well-paid (and, frankly, we aren't). I think his wisest insight is that the "cut and paste" habit that is so much a part of Internet communication has led many people to think that articles and books don't require much effort, that we writers are lazy slackers who can throw a book together in no time at all. Not so--although, heaven knows, many of the books out there do appear to have been thrown together when the authors were half-stoned. It is inspiring to see creativity and eloquence defended by a writer who has both qualities in abundance.

In case you aren't familiar with Helprin's "controversy," it concerns his defense of U.S. copyright, which extends for 70 years after the author's death. That is, if you write and publish a book, you receive royalties during your lifetime and your designated estate receives them for seventy years afterward--which differs from "public domain" books, in which no royalty is paid to anyone, and the publisher reaps all the profits. This is not exactly a radical idea, since every country has similar copyright practices, yet Helprin discovered that Internet bloggers were cursing him for upholding such a "selfish" practice. The bloggers constantly misquoted and misconstrued various authorities from the past (such as Thomas Jefferson), and Helprin carefully clarifies what these authorities said, and meant. He also makes a good case for the traditional view: good writing flows from creative individuals and is not "communal," no matter what Internet junkies may say. He cites the "wikis" as sad examples of how "communal" writing can spread errors on a wide scale.

Alas, I doubt this book will be read by his critics, because the anti-Helprin bloggers (who, it appears, would qualify as bored Internet addicts with very short attention spans), but nonetheless the book is well-thought-out and a delight to read. Even if you have no interest in the copyright issue, his observations of contemporary technology make the book worth reading.

I've actually never read any of Mark Helprin's fiction, but after reading this book (well, listening to the audio version) I'm planning to do so. He has such a way with words that it was a joy to listen to his arguments. Other reviewers have summed up the content of the book, and, while I used to lean on the side of the freetards, I'm now more in line with Helprin's suggestion that copyright be extended as much as possible.

Helprin writes like Mencken, with that sort of creative contempt for stupidity and vapidity that is missing in our day and age. Too often, commenters and bloggers just repeat the same, tired arguments, with vituperative language and ad hominem attacks. These "boobs" - to use Mencken's term - went rabid when Heplrin published an op-ed about copyright in the New York Times. Helprin joyously (though I have the feeling that he wasn't that happy about them) pushes aside their arguments and presents one that, while in the minority, makes a lot more sense. Some of my work is intellectual property, and why should I allow the government to say that I can't pass that on to my descendants? Interestingly, the same people who criticize this idea are often libertarians (or lean in that direction) who don't want government getting in the way of anything.

All in all, this is a brilliant book, worth reading not only for the unique voice but for the arguments in favor of copyright. Just because it's easy to steal digital content doesn't mean it's morally correct, or should be allowed by law. You may not agree with Helprin, but if you are a Reader, you'll love the way he presents his case.

I'm an admirer of Mark Helprin's superb fiction, and I largely agree with his position on the value of copyrights. I also derive some income from copyright royalties, so presumably I have a vested interest in championing these ideas. Nevertheless, I find this book to be interesting chiefly for its peculiarity.

Helprin wrote a New York Times editorial that encouraged Congress to extend the validity of US copyrights. He was then vilified and attacked, online, by a cadre of anti-copyrightist true believers. What's worse, many of these anti-copyrightists were...wait for it...uncivil, and their grammar was approximate at best.

Digital Barbarism is the sputtering cri de coeur through which Helprin processed the psychic trauma of this event. It's also his intellectual riposte from the unassailable high ground of print. Half the book is about the value of copyright as a social institution, and half is about the debasement and coarsening of public discourse wrought by the Internets.

My basic complaint is that neither of these points is an argument that needs making. As Helprin points out, the arguments for abolishing copyright are largely specious, and only a small minority of the public cleaves to this perspective (as least, once you factor out the rabble's bleating attempts to justify their own music piracy). The combined weights of history, international conventions, and corporate financial interests are firmly aligned against the abolition of copyright, and the chance of anti-copyrightist thinking making its way into public policy is virtually nil.

Helprin only perceives it as a clear and present danger because of his painful drubbing at the hands of the Internet trolls. I'm sure the anti-copyright faction sounded quite loud and united (not to mention rude) on whichever comment threads dealt Helprin his psychological scars. However, Helprin doesn't seem to understand that those venues constitute a natural focal point in the funhouse mirror of the Internet; they aren't necessarily representative of the views of Internet citizens in general. If you don't know enough to ignore the open comment threads of a mass-market newspaper, you're going to see some pretty hair-raising stuff.

More broadly, Helprin has noticed that people on the Internet are often nasty and ignorant. Since the people Helprin knows personally don't seem nasty and ignorant, it must be the Internet that is warping and debasing the character of its inhabitants. Once again, I can't exactly disagree with Helprin that the Internet facilitates bad behavior--just wait til he discovers 4chan. On the other hand, it seems more likely that our nastiness and ignorance are things we bring to the Internet rather than things the Internet brings to us. Many Internet forums feature cordial, thoughtful, and grammatical discussion. In this respect, Digital Barbarism is 2009's "Reefer Madness."

Helprin's nonfiction prose style turns out to be rather tortured. Even from a purely stylistic perspective, it's difficult to avoid the impression that one is reading material from the 18th century. Helprin's sporadic anti-technological passages and his occasional fumbles of terminology (e.g., his references to early adopters as "early adapters") combine to create a sort of crochety "You kids get off my lawn!" effect. Rather than reevaluating my own assumptions, I found that I was increasingly questioning Helprin's qualifications to be writing about the social context of the Internet.

Despite these various complaints, portions of the book are delicious. In particular, the chapter that skewers the Internet hoi polloi for their incoherence and slipshod grasp of English is hilarious and right on target. The book as a whole is worth reading, if only because I don't think you'll encounter anything like it elsewhere.

Who would have thought that a book about copyright (and other things) could be so absorbing and a pleasure to read? Part of this is, of course, due to Mr. Helprin's wonderful talent. In parts the book reads like a novel.
This book is not only about copyright law but is in fact part memoir, part history, part a nod of appreciation to the glory of the Constitution and the Declaration of the U.S (and Thomas Jefferson). part political philosophy and, underpinning all of that, a treatise against collectivism (socialism, or any other name you can give it) when that collectivism rams up against the rights of the individual. Due to the latter, I'm sure there will be some who will write reviews against the book (given the current political reality) for that reason alone.

A quote from the book: "When individual rights are pre-eminent, everyone is served. When they are not, the only thing that is served is an abstraction. Whereas community can be only an idea, concept, construct or fiction, the individual actually exists in flesh and blood. One can claim to love the collective or the community, but it is the sterile, sick love of one who can love nothing, or rather, no one. Love that is not echoed in a human heart is apt to petrify into tyranny, and so often in history a devotion to the abstraction of man has been a blind for hideous oppression."

This should be a quote on the wall of everyone who loves freedom.

I'm no doubt setting the bar far too high. And I don't know exactly what to say about this book except that...having just finished it, I feel the need to read it again, this time with pencil in hand.

Did I need to read a couple of hundred pages more or less devoted to copyright law? Not at all; how many do, really. Normally I might have even passed over the original editorial that sparked the controversy with little more than a glance.

But this book is about much more than its ostensible topic; it's a meditation on human freedom and creation and also on our limitations. Along the way, seemingly out-of-the-blue observations of great wit and perception pepper the text. Add to that a great many thrusts of the dagger and, well, I need to go back with a pencil the second time around.

Recommended for readers predisposed toward the tragic view of life.

I would have gladly paid 10X the price of this book for the privilige to read and reflect upon the prose therein:

"...Henry Adams thought that at the beginning of the twentieth century the world had begun to move at an unsustainable pace. Little did he know, and perhaps in light of the future little do we, but now the rhythm of life is not that of the dynamo, with its gleaming copper windings, or the steam engine dripping water like a draft animal in the heat, but the silent, invisible, unapproachable electron, incomprehensively fast and indifferent, to which, as we accommodate, we sacrifice much of what is in us by nature. All for fear of not following in the wake of its speed and power, for fear of missing out, of not having, and of being left behind. "

While compelling in its arguments, Mr. Helprin's book transcends the issues and subject matter it so ably discusses. Simply, I am a better man for having read it.

An inspired and beautifully written book. The ferocity with which its point is being missed is testament to the book's power--many realize they are being flayed, but they are not quite sure how. But the fact that Helprin easily overpowers his oppressors--who offer little in the way of sensible argument--is secondary to his real purpose, which is to make the unfashionable case for thought and deliberation. Well, and bravely, done.

Mark Helprin's 'Winter's Tale' is one of my favourite novels of all time. I've read it at least a dozen times. So I respect the man's abilities.

And I also agree with much of what he presents here.

However...

As written, it is a long-winded invective, a teeth-gnashing polemic reminiscent of what your grandfather would probably project in the garage, by his lonesome, about the good old days.

There are inarguably better ways to attempt to accomplish what Mr. Helprin so clearly wanted to accomplish.

Unless he just wanted to vent his spleen.

Like other reviewers, I urge you to discount the arguments of the fierce opponents of copyright - but on the other hand to notice the complaints of those who say they agree with Helprin, but feel that his argument is not rigorous enough. Once you get past learning, as I did, that the NY Times op-ed was mistitled - Helprin is not arguing for perpetual copyright - you can understand his approach in this beautiful, idiosyncratic book. The the principled argument for some copy-right is quite simple - but other than repeat it and cite authorities, it is not a particularly compelling subject except for lawyers and pedants. Helrpin is neither (nor am I). What he does instead is weave an argument around the claims of any author to originality - by going back to childhood memories, experiences, a wonderful collection of happenings and thoughts and images that make Helprin Helprin (and make any of us who any of us is), he creates an implicit and much more profound argument for the claims of authorship and the notion of originality and individuality.
I know of no other such book since the death of the great Victorian writers.
I urge you to read it with this in mind - the unfolding not only of an argument based on simple justice, but a simultaneous argument for the claim of any of us to our own thoughts and expressions - based not on solitary dreaming in an attic, but on a life well lived and carefully observed.
It's a fantastic and much more important book than anyone could have expected from an argument in favor of copyright. It's in many ways a book more about how to be human than how to be a writer.

I love Mark Helprin! He has an amazing way with words that is both engaging and informative. He's also brilliantly humorous.