Fahrenheit 451, in the Age of Ebooks, May Have Been a Much Shorter Novel...

Sometime last week a number of Kindle users were surprised and a little vexed to find that several of their ebooks had been deleted from their devices, among them works by George Orwell (which I'm told is deeply ironic, although since I evidently missed that class in high school, I'm afraid I'm unable to confirm this). Amazon's explanation was that they had evidently been contracting a third party to upload books into ebook form, and this third party had managed to do so with a number of books without first obtaining copyright. Once the error was discovered, Amazon remotely deleted those books from the Kindles that had purchased them, and refunded those customers' money.

Now many people are up in arms though, and for good reason. The slippery issue of ownership had already been a topic of discussion and some debate with regards to the ebook, but now there is also a lot of talk going on about the future of book-baning. Across time and history, of course, the Press has been notoriously difficult to control due to how diverse and spread out it is. Imagine though, how different it might be if all it took to wipe a book off the face of the Earth was a corporate will, and a few complicated raps on the keyboard?

Amazon has already announced that in the future it will not 'recall' already-purchased materials, and so many people believe the current anxiety is both paranoid and ill-founded. Perhaps. Although I admit that I wouldn't mind hearing Amazon address some of these concerns directly. I haven't given up on ebooks yet as a worthwhile medium, but clearly there are still some valid issues that need to be addressed.

More Vampires...

There was a time, I think, when vampires' immortality was just a fictional convention-- an aspect of the vampire's figure, rather than its literary function. But as TV networks continue to churn out more and more vampire series', and as the commentary on this phenomena spirals ever-outward, I'm beginning to think there's something more to vampires'... persistence. Anne Rice's character, Louis, of the seminal Interview with the Vampire, now strikes me almost as a kind of meta-character-- a vampire-prophet: the way his presence transcends historical and cultural bounds, shifting in quality as the times themselves shift, while at the same time always reflecting some critical aspect of the society he preys upon. When we consider the ebb and flow of vampires in mass media, as well as how their presence there has developed, the similarity of these two visions are all but clear, and we begin to see just how undying they truly are.

This month's issue of Bookslut contains an article by Jessica Ferri re-examining the Twilight phenomena... yet again, but despite the fact that these commentaries are becoming as redundant as the genre itself, I find that I cannot fault her. Vampires are irresistible. They're sexy, mysterious, and at the same time, deeply iconographic-- a veritable wet dream for critics with a pulse (pun?). After all, it's interesting to look at how they've developed over time. How, in their considerable lifespan, vampires have gone from being the quintessential and morally dubious 'Other', to a virtual Everyman kind of figure; their struggle with bloodlust mirroring our own (supposed) struggle to maintain sexual purity. Such reflections are interesting the first, second, and even the third time we make them, but now, I'm afraid, they are done.

Everyone seems to have some disparaging and urgent thing to say about vampire literature, but frankly, its beginning to sound like the anxious chatter of addicts trying to talk their way out of an addiction. Enough already! (Although I'll admit in writing this, I too am perhaps implicit.)

One thing that does make Ferri's article a bit more interesting, however, than the typical pulp literature debasement, is the attention she pays to Twilight's all-too-human heroine, Bella, comparing her at length to the author's preferred Buffy (i.e. The Vampire Slayer):

Bella is your typical teenage girl, and Meyer wants to emphasize her ordinariness by making her one of the most boring, annoying obstinate heroines ever... Doesn't it say something about women's lib if the dice has rolled from Buffy, who slayed vamps without even breaking a nail, to Bella, who does nothing the entire book but whine to be deflowered by one?

Because it is funny and amusing, I do recommend checking out the full article. But mind you: just this last time. If I ever recommend another article concerning Twilight, or any other vampire-commentary, take it as a sign that I've been compromised and you should at that time cease to listen to anything I have to say. About anything.

Bibliophilia: Sounds like a sickness, doesn't it?

Evidently Borders has started its own online dating service guided by members' literary preferences. I would love to be able to say I'm surprised, but then I remember how many times I have stalked potential crushes' facebook profiles for their 'favorite books', and all of the sudden it all seems inevitable. I found out about the service from an article by David Barnett on the Guardian's BookBlog, and though my opinions are not nearly as cynical as his, I do imagine it would be a strange sensation to meet someone through, say, your shared love of Joyce-- like meeting your girlfriend through your mistress. You can check it for yourself:

'I don't know if Borders will actually be making recommendations for dates in the same way as they recommend books, but it would be priceless if members got regular email updates: "Did you enjoy, Mark, 34, of Swindon? Then you should try Gareth, 36, of Slough." Or: "After dating Sally of Birmingham, 86 per cent of customers go on to date Jayne of Devizes." '