In which I talk about memetic density

This entire post is going to be a deconstruction of the title.

‘In which’ is not merely an informative phrase to indicate the contents of the post: it is a reference to the way Diane Wynne Jones, amongst others, starts chapters in her books. Each chapter title doubles as a summary of the chapter, and adds amusing context, such as “In which Sophie talks to hats” and “In which Howl expresses his feelings with green slime.”

By the way, I love my roommates. I wrote this while still in Victoria, sitting in Starbucks. It had been a couple of years since I read Howl’s Moving Castle, and I’d forgotten whether the introductions to the chapters were the chapter titles or separate headings. Google searches and Google Books and Amazon and Kobo were all turning up blanks: all I wanted was the first page.

Both of my roommates are bibliophiles who don’t get rid of their books, so I just got on Skype and asked out of the blue whether they had a copy and asked them to check for me. Only one of them had a copy, but between them they both had a copy and knew what I was looking for and were able to answer without checking, and then able to link me to the TVTropes page discussing the wider use of the convention.

It is stylistically striking enough to stick with a reader, and allusion to it both establishes formal context and informal social context: by title this post in this way I am affirming that I read, that I read for fun, and that I retain it and consider it important to the way I interact with the world. Using descriptive titles, particularly with the ‘In which’ format, is language that establishes personal context as well as the explicit context inherent in a descriptive title.

Seem like a lot to try to communicate with two words?

Yeah. And I’m not done!

The title of this post is first-person. Normally, descriptive titles are presented third-person. Using first person here does a couple of things:

  • Establishes that this is a meta-contextual post examining the linguistics involved in addition to participating.
  • Avoids referring to myself in the third person, which is awkward at best and impenetrable and pretentious at worst.
  • Let’s me avoid choosing which name to refer to myself as: I go by Eileen because it is my name and using anything else in an even semi-professional setting would feel really weird. But I also answer to Chiomi, which is a nickname I’ve had since high school and still go by among close friends. I am also called PK in some writing contexts, as an abbreviation of phantomkitsune, the username I win stuff under in Adam’s contest. On the website where I am known as PK, I’ve made several contacts with people who’ve become good friends and with whom I discuss writing a great deal. Using first person lets me bypass that issue completely.
Now to the verb. I used ‘talk’ as opposed to ‘discuss’ or ‘write’ because, given the dearth of comments here and the fact that I’m mostly unpacking a sentence, discussion does not seem a sure thing. ‘Write’ I discarded because the tone I use in my blog is a lot closer to the tone I use in casual speech than what I would use in an essay. Pontificate, which would have served just as well, was discarded because of reasons.
The preposition, I feel, is reasonably straightforward and does not require exposition.
Memetic density has to be addressed as a compound to make sense. A meme is a unit of culture. For example, I have an extremely pedantic coworker, through whose influence all of us who work with him have become more linguistically precise. I have on more than one occasion called him a memetic disease because of this effect. So memetic density is how many ideas are communicated by a word or phrase. Memetic density and the effectiveness thereof is, fairly obviously, culture-dependent. I was able to understand a fair number of the references in Terry Pratchett’s Soul Music because my dad introduced me to classic rock. If I didn’t have that context, I would be missing a lot of the references in the book. The memetic density would be lost. Knowyourmeme.com is one of the best resources for making sure that modern references aren’t lost, because it catalogs widespread memes.
As this entire post suggests, a lot of meaning can be conveyed in a few context-specific words. It’s just a matter of knowing the context.
Note: thoughts like this are why it takes me forever to finish many of my writing projects.

Fandom part something

One of the interesting things that has stemmed from the corner of Homestuck fandom to which I pay attention is the surge of literary criticism.

Casual, lengthy, in depth literary criticism that examines motifs and characters and mines them for all they are worth. It’s generally referred to as ‘meta,’ since it is discussion of the story that does not directly relate to speculation about future events. It does not typically make negative statements about the original work, either, which may be a reason the word ‘criticism’ is shied away from.

To illustrate:

  • Take your high school English class around the time you had to read The Yellow Wallpaper
  • Take the worksheet or quiz with questions on it like “Who was Jennie? What was her relationship to the narrator?”*
    • Burn it.
  • Instead
    • At least one group of people is hotly debating it as a feminist critique of late-19th century treatment of post-partum depression.
    • Someone is writing a story from the perspective of Jennie.
    • Someone is writing about it as reflective of the social unrest in England throughout that time period.
    • Someone is writing about it as reflective of the untenability of separate sphere ideology in an industrialized country.
    • At least six people are writing commentary on it that I can’t even fathom.
  • Now make the source text all about teenagers kissing in space and you have the part of the Homestuck fandom that I follow.
    • It is like having a huge fantastic book club that only ever discusses one book.
This has been incredibly inspirational to bear witness to, to say the least. I think the Homestuck fandom has contributed more to me being a critical reader than most of the rationalist stuff I read, largely because it is explicitly about examining literature.
So I’m going to start an exercise: on Sunday, I’m going to post a short story. On Monday, I’m going to post about the thought process that went into it and what certain aspects of it are derived from. I will repeat as needed.
This serves a whole bunch of purposes: I will have a place to put fiction too short to submit to other places, or that I have no interest in submitting, or that have been submitted to contests and they don’t mind me reposting. I will have a log of the thought process that went in to it. And, down the road, when I have perspective on them, I will be able to read the pieces with fresh eyes and read the though process and judge how successful I was at incorporating the ideas I wanted to incorporate and what subtext I might have included unknowingly.
*To be fair, my high school English class did discuss its historical context as well, in terms of how women were treated for ‘hysteria.’

Copyright Tango

Copyright is still a subject I’m trying to figure out.

Not the legal side of it: that’s what entertainment lawyers are for, and they can explain it to the rest of us when it’s relevant.
It’s how I want to use it, how it’s applicable to me in particular, that I have to figure out. Creative Commons licensing is more appealing on a number of levels than traditional copyright. Creative Commons licensing is more accepting of educators using the material, explicitly allows for fan-created work, and all together embodies more of the tech-edged forward-thinking social movement that I’d like to target as readers.
On the other hand, if readers are free to redistribute digital copies wherever and however they like, I’m not always going to be getting paid.
Cory Doctorow makes his novels available online in any format a fan will translate it into, and lets his publishers just handle the print versions. This is fantastic, and I’ve taken advantage of it more than once.
But I think digital editions are a very future-friendly option: no dead trees (stone paper and elephant-poop paper still being too pricey to practically print books on), cheaper production costs, and easy transportation to any corner of the globe with internet access. I think that, while they will never replace print editions completely, digital editions may easily become the primary distribution method. If they do, I’m not sure I want to be giving my primary distribution method available for free.
Digital editions still have associated production costs in terms of the writer’s time, the editor’s time, the layout person’s time, and the cover artist’s time.
Machine of Death has made PDF available for free, but not any other digital edition. That was initially jarring, but seems to make sense upon examination of other factors. PDF is almost universally readable, even if it is awkward at times. Like the public library, it is available to everyone but not as convenient as buying. That seems to make sense.
But that raises the issue with the more arcane editions that fans might format it into: is the writer entitled to make money from the efforts of fans? And if not, isn’t that just a lot of incentive to download the arcane edition and retranslate it into whatever format is most convenient for you?
A lot of Creative Commons licensing relies on the idea that fans who support an edition won’t do that, and I like the attitude of generally not treating fans like criminals.
But the licensing I’ll use for my own work (not short stories or collaborations) is still something I have to think hard about.

Russia’s Doomsday Device

As an excellent follow-up to writing about a science fiction future, I read an article today about Russia’s Doomsday device, Perimeter. I was first shocked that they had one – the most familiarity I have with one is watching Dr. Strangelove in high school. But it exists, and it’s active, and it continues to be upgraded to this day.

Perimeter’s very existence is surreal and far from comforting.
The very idea of such a relic of the Cold War mentality is alien to me; the Berlin Wall came down about the time I learned to talk, so it belongs very firmly in the realm of The Past, that mystical country of questionable relevance. Perimeter drives home in the most graphic way possible that nuclear war is something that was seriously considered for a long stretch of time.
I’m quite glad we never tipped over that brink.

Playboy Documentary

There’s a new documentary piece on Hugh Hefner coming out, about his role as a social activist. Seem weird? Yeah, to me, too. This article takes a look at some of the driving motivation behind the documentary. I have yet to see the documentary (it opened yesterday), but I am really looking forward to it.

The things he, Kinsey, Steinem, and Meads have done – their contributions to the Sexual Revolution, have changed society in a lot of ways. The internet has contributed. In discussing the documentary with my mom the other day, we discussed the fact that she first encountered BDSM culture in her 30s, while she was living in San Francisco. I encountered it in a fairly mainstream fantasy novel when I was 15 and so, curious, Googled it, and found a well-laid-out Wikipedia page.

And that was normal for me, for my generation. Yes, there is a lot of hypersexualization, but there’s also a lot of information available to work with that – information on STDs and where and how to get tested, information on how to be safe in myriad ways. In my social circle, at least, it’s something to discuss -openly – near the beginning of a relationship, just to determine compatibility. Kinsey and later, when we were old enough to sneakily read The Onion, Dan Savage taught us that nothing was weird, simply potentially incompatible. And that was okay.

Hefner, of course, isn’t solely responsible for the social movement towards openness. But he’s a contributing factor, and one in iconic silk pajamas, so I very much look forward to the documentary.