New Project: Annotated Ben Franklin!

I blame it all on Fernand Braudel.

See, this last Thursday I was reading The Wheels of Commerce, and Braudel mentioned a French merchant with really intricate ledgers of his trading activities that Braudel didn’t have the patience to untangle, and it occurred to me that modern computer methods are excellent at that kind of thing, and then I wondered if there are any other publicly available ledgers that could be analyzed, and then I found that Ben Franklin’s ledgers are public domain, and then I learned that he got his start in politics in 1729 by writing a short pamphlet called “A Modest Enquiry into the Nature and Necessity of a Paper-Currency.”

And so I read it and it was really good and important and then I found out that while there are a few academic editions, no one has yet produced an annotated edition that would be helpful for students and other interested readers.

And I was getting a little burned out on big complicated projects, and this seemed like a fun little project for me to do in a relatively short time, and hopefully it would recharge the batteries for my bigger stuff.

So I’m doing it. And it’s almost done.

And then it occurred to me that fun little annotation projects like this could be an interesting sideline, alongside my other work. But I wanted to find out if enough people would be interested in that sort of thing to make it worth my time.

So I’m doing a Kickstarter.

Check it out!

More on Cities, Commerce, and Braudel

Having recently finished writing a 15k-word novella,* I am now returning to the draft of Book 2 in my worldbuilding guidebook series, the book focused on commerce and political economy. It looks like I’ll be adding a new chapter about class barriers and inequality, which will squeeze in a discussion of Peter Turchin’s theory of political conflict due to elite overproduction. (Much as I do with the work of James C. Scott, I’ll take any opportunity to bring it up!)

Fortuitously, I just found my copy of Fernand Braudel’s The Wheels of Commerce where it had been buried on my shelf behind a double layer of books for about a decade (!), and I have the sinking feeling that I’ll be adding even more material to the draft even though it’s already about 60k words long, which is about as long as you’d want a guidebook like this to be.

Just reading the first chapter, it seems clear to me that Jane Jacobs was inspired by Braudel (or perhaps by the same sources he cites such as von Thünen) in her discussion of “supply regions,” vast rural zones that are economically transformed by the needs of large cities. Braudel discusses how as metropolises such as London and Paris grew, town fairs across their countries became more and more specialized so that they predominantly offered a single good, becoming a predictable supplier to the merchants who would send their wares off to the insatiable cities:

“Cheeses came from Meaux; butter from Gournay, near Dieppe, or from Isigny; beasts for slaughter from the markets of Poissy, Sceaux and further afield from Neubourg; good bread from Gonesse; pulses from Caudebec in Normandy, where a market was held every Saturday . . . . Any region affected by London tended to specialize, to change and become more commercially-minded, in limited sectors as yet it is true, for between the modernized regions there still lay expanses of the old rural régime with its traditional farms and crops. Kent for instance. . . saw orchards and hops cover its fields to supply the capital, but Kent still maintained its identity, with its peasant-farmers. . .”

By about 1600, “[o]f the 800 market towns in England and Wales, at least 300 confined themselves to single trades: 133 to the grain trade; 26 to malt; 6 to fruit; 92 to cattle markets; 32 to sheep; 13 to horses; 14 to swine; 30 to fish; 21 to wildfowl and poultry; 12 to butter and cheese; over 30 to wool or yarn; 27 or more to woolen cloth; 11 to leather; 8 to linen; at least 4 to hemp—not to mention some very precise and idiosyncratic specialties: Wymondham dealt exclusively in ‘wooden spoons, taps and handles.'” (Long excursus into the informational problems of matching buyers and sellers omitted.)

Braudel also cites interesting statistics about markets and towns (sourced mostly from medieval England) that will be of use to the worldbuilder. With a handful of exceptions, villages did not have regular markets; but most towns did, and they tended to serve about 6000 or 7000 people total despite their typical population of 1000 (all these numbers subject to variation by period and locality, of course). In other words, villagers from the surrounding settlements (as well as itinerant peddlers and merchants) would converge on their local town every few days or every week. Each market tended to serve a radius of about six or seven miles, depending on the type of good and its mode of transportation. “In about 1600, grain transported overland did not travel more than 10 miles [ed: recall that a team of oxen traveling more than about 200km would eat more grain than they could carry], and 5 was more usual; cattle could be driven about 11 miles, sheep 40 to 70 miles; wool and woolen cloth would travel between 20 and 40 miles.”

At any rate, it seems that I will once again have to work harder to keep material out of my book than to put it in. But that’s the fun of it, I suppose!

*Currently trying to shop it around for publication, but I’ll probably lose patience and self-publish it before long. Here’s a very early scene that survived to the current draft with few changes.

More on Plot Conflict and Willy Wonka

Some time ago, I wrote a post on Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in which I noted some features of the plot and writing technique that seem out of fashion today—chiefly that the second half of the book lacks a conflict, strictly speaking, yet remains interesting to the reader because it uses two intertwined mysteries to drive the action. Last night, I saw for the first time the 1971 movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, the classic movie with Gene Wilder in the title role. Interestingly, several of the creative changes made by the movie were directly responsive to the features I noted in my prior post.

[Spoilers ahead!]

First, the moviemakers clearly picked up on the Wonka-as-devil-figure aspect and leaned into it. According to director Mel Stuart, Gene Wilder was cast partly because “[h]e had the sardonic, demonic edge we were looking for.” The one song that was lifted almost verbatim from the book, the “There’s no knowing where we’re going” sequence in the boat, was accompanied by psychedelic imagery that grew more disturbing as the song went on, with new verses added: “Are the fires of Hell a-glowing? / Is the grisly reaper mowing?”

Additionally, a new temptation theme is introduced into the movie, in the form of the apparent plot to steal the Everlasting Gobstoppers, which turns out to be a scheme by Wonka himself (and just how does “Mr. Slugworth” manage to show up immediately at various points around the world, as if by magic?). Relatedly, Wonka has the children sign a contract with illegible small print, about which more later, and he is quick to invoke the contract to effectively cheat the children out of their promised chocolate. And, of course, Wonka’s seeming indifference to the fate of the children is emphasized in Wilder’s inimitable style (to the point of producing several internet memes). So yes, Willy Wonka as a potential stand-in for the Devil is very much in play.

Second, the scriptwriters decided to change the plot fundamentally, by having Grandpa Joe and Charlie sneak some of the Fizzy Lifting Drink against Wonka’s express instructions. It was probably this and its consequences that led Roald Dahl to sever ties with the movie, because it deeply damaged the central morality play of the book: Charlie was the good boy who sacrificed for others, followed the rules, and deserved the happy ending, as compared to the other children who demonstrate their character flaws by taking what they are not allowed to take. With the script’s change, nothing fundamentally separates Charlie from the others, until his redemptive act in the climax.

Why make this change? I think they were trying to do two things here. First is to reintroduce conventional plot conflict for the movie, by having Charlie break the contract and putting Charlie’s prize in jeopardy. Second, they wanted to make Charlie a more active character in his story. In the book, he displays his virtue in the initial stages of the plot, but then is reduced to a bystander during the factory tour. The scriptwriters, it seemed, felt that Charlie needed a moment of supreme virtue at the climax—his decision to give back the Gobstopper despite every possible reason not to—so that he deserves his happy ending more directly.

Was this a good change? I have my doubts. The plot device of the contract makes Wonka a much more spiteful character than in the book. And Charlie’s decision to return the Gobstopper and doom his family to grinding poverty, just after Wonka betrays him, strains credulity.

So what else could the movie have done? The more recent Tim Burton version decided to hew more closely to the original plot, right up to the point where Wonka demands that Charlie leave his family behind in exchange for the factory. I do not see this as an improvement overall (and the Dahl estate apparently had serious qualms as well), but it has the merit of preserving Charlie’s virtuous character. Off the top of my head, one could also introduce Wonka’s need for a successor earlier in the movie, with various bad options on the table until Charlie is anointed instead, perhaps because of some display of aptitude that he makes during the tour.

Other quibbles could be made about the movie; most of the songs were forgettable or actively inept (Candy Man and Veruca’s showstopper being exceptions). I do think that removing Mr. Bucket was a reasonable change, given that Charlie was forced into more responsibility as a breadwinner (literally). And the movie did cast Gene Wilder; and therefore, much is forgiven!

New Military Nonfiction Book Out for Pre-Order!

Ron Farina, author of the Sacrifice trilogy of nonfiction books about American casualties of war (for which I had the privilege of being the editor and publisher), has written a new book forthcoming from Casemate Publishers, In Sha Allah, If God Wills It, telling the incredible story of an Afghan interpreter who served alongside U.S. special operations forces. I read a prepublication draft and gladly contributed a blurb; it’s a gripping book.

It’s open for preorders now. You should definitely check it out.

A Rabbi Shows Up in the “Dresden Files”

I just finished the latest installment of Jim Butcher’s “Dresden Files” series, Twelve Months. I won’t comment on the book as a whole, other than to say that it was enjoyable. But I do find myself mildly irritated by a bit character that Butcher introduced.

Without spoilers, I can say that despite the grab-bag of Lovecraftian, Celtic fae, and other supernatural bits all thrown in, important aspects of the “Dresden Files” setting are Catholic in flavor. There was a single secular Jewish character up to this point, who ends up taking on a, ahem, religiously incongruous job as the series progresses. But in this book, Butcher chose to introduce a religious Jewish character, Rabbi Aaronson, as an ally to the local Catholic groups fighting the nasties. I am not sure why Butcher did so. Aaronson appears in only two brief scenes, has no plot function and only a few paragraphs of “screen time,” and his only activities are to blow the shofar and be crotchety.

Perhaps Butcher is setting Aaronson up to be a more important character later, which would be consistent with some previous character introductions. If so, Butcher is going to have to step up his game. His thin characterization of Aaronson leans very hard on the stock Hollywood trope of the alte kacker, the old fart, beloved by secular Jewish scriptwriters working out their daddy issues on screen. Butcher also leans on two pieces of religious paraphernalia and depicts questionable things about both.

When Harry asks if Aaronson is carrying a “real shofar,” Aaronson says yes, and that he had forgotten how hard a shofar is to blow. This is unlikely. A shofar is not a rarely-used bit of ancient history. Especially if he is in the habit of using a shofar as a supernatural weapon, it is probable that Aaronson would be one of the men blowing the shofar each year, nearly every day during the month leading up to the High Holidays. (I am also skeptical about Aaronson carrying his shofar around in a baldric, which I have never seen anyone do in real life, but I suppose it’s not impossible.)

Additionally, Aaronson is described as wearing a “shawl.” Presumably, this is an imprecise reference to a tallit or tallis, often called a “prayer shawl” in English. Though a tallis is generally only worn during prayer, its appearance here is in keeping with Hollywood’s lazy stock depiction of rabbis always wearing a tallis under any circumstances, presumably as a reliable visual shorthand that “This Guy Over Here is a Rabbi” for audiences who might not pick up on less blatant indications. (Off the top of my head, this bit of costuming shows up in Babylon 5, Cabaret, and The Simpsons.)

While in ancient times some Jews would indeed wear a tallis during mundane activities, nowadays I can think of only one reason a real-life Jew might wear a tallis outside of prayer or when walking to synagogue—certain mystical practices are best done wearing a tallis. Ironically, that might even be a decent explanation in-universe, given the context. However, Butcher does not seem to be aware of this, given that nothing else in Aaronson’s presentation suggests (yet?) that he is a mystic.

Obviously, it’s Butcher’s story and he is under no obligation to write his characters with verisimilitude. But as long as he feels like putting in a Jewish character, why not make the character more interesting? Why rely on stock tropes, especially when they are low-quality tropes?

I don’t think Butcher has committed any great sin here. He certainly didn’t do anything as obnoxious as Orson Scott Card’s book Enchantment (which made the main character Jewish yet had his Jewishness play exactly zero role in his character or the plot—other than an in-passing ultimatum that he convert to Christianity, immediately acceded to without any drama or plot significance). But I am interested to see if Aaronson will be playing a greater role in the future, and whether Butcher will write him as a more interesting character in the process.

This does, I think, illustrate some of the pitfalls of writing characters from different cultures. I emphatically do not say that no one should do this, or that this is insensitive or cultural appropriation, or that you need to spend valuable page time genuflecting to whatever historical tragedies might apply. But chances are, you don’t know what you don’t know. And to be a good writer, you should do your research.

Butcher notes that he relies on a group of beta readers to review his drafts; knowing that he was introducing a religious Jew, he would have been well served to find an observant Jewish beta reader, at least for those few paragraphs. You really can find us, even in fandom.