It Is Imperative to Buy Physical Media

By now, readers are probably aware of the outrage over the soon-to-be published Bowdlerizations of the works of both Roald Dahl and Ian Fleming. Two very different authors, the first is the writer of several well-known children’s books, especially Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and the second is the author of the James Bond novels.

To make perfectly clear where I personally stand, I detest the work of both these men. James Bond is a disgusting pig of a character; I have hated every Bond movie I’ve seen, and when I read Casino Royale to give Bond one more chance to entertain me, I found it boring as well as disgusting. And as for Dahl, I have always found him too mean-spirited for a children’s author.

But that isn’t the point. Disliking these men’s work does not give me or anyone else the right to change what they wrote. Trying to eliminate “offensive” content from them would utterly change the character of their books: If Dahl is no longer allowed to call anyone fat and ugly, and if Fleming is no longer allowed to write about a drunken, philandering misogynist, then all of their novels will be reduced to about two pages in length.

The jackbooted censors who are in charge of the new, bloodless editions of these men’s work have their excuses, of course. They always have excuses. Puffin (Dahl’s publisher) has pointed out that Dahl himself revised his work over the course of his life, but that is obviously a motte-and-bailey argument: The censors are destroying the man’s work on the thin excuse that he himself sometimes revised it. Given his importance in the history of children’s literature, it is obvious that what they ought to do is release critical editions comparing and contrasting the changes Dahl made, not release a censored edition in which they make further changes themselves.

The excuse for altering Fleming’s work is even thinner: The first American edition of Casino Royale was censored, so we might as well turn around and censor everything else, right? That argument is too stupid even to rebut.

Notably, the tabloid Daily Mail discovered that the chief censor working on the Dahl books describes herself as a “non-binary, asexual, polyamorous relationship anarchist who is on the autism spectrum.” That is enough to demonstrate that the alterations to Dahl’s work were not done innocently without ideological motivation. Note especially the pairing of asexual and polyamorous: The English language is allegedly this woman’s job, but she has no concern with the actual meaning of words.

And as for Fleming, the Telegraph reveals some of the alterations. In Live and Let Die, Bond visits a strip club, giving Fleming occasion to write:

Bond could hear the audience panting and grunting like pigs at the trough. He felt his own hands gripping the tablecloth. His mouth was dry.

The new version instead reads:

Bond could sense the electric tension in the room.

Whatever one thinks of Bond, the new version is nerveless and clichéd. This is why you don’t mess with other people’s books. And what exactly is the reason for this change? What exactly offended the “sensitivity reader”? I thought feminists liked to call men pigs, and Bond is especially deserving of such an epithet, so what is the problem here? The answer is that there is no answer: “Non-binary, asexual, polyamorous relationship anarchists” do not have actual principles; their offendedness is as random as their self-descriptions are.

We can say this, at least: Things are not yet as bad as they are going to get, so there is still time, but the time is growing short. Right now, the censoring of two famous authors is enough to cause widespread outrage, but it should also provoke some questions: How many other, lesser-known authors have been similarly censored without outrage? How many more authors will be censored? How long until the outrage peters out and the censors can march forward unimpeded?

We must buy physical books. We must build ourselves collections of the works we want to preserve. Every one of us must become an archivist. And it is not important only to save literature. We must save older dictionaries and grammar books as well because these same censors are working to corrupt the language, and they have been wildly successful. Get dictionaries and grammar books from 1989 or before; that seems to be the cut-off point after which the institutions were captured.

And as for older copies of now-censored books or books out of print, my opinion on this matter is rapidly changing: I once opposed any violation of copyright, but I now suspect that some copyright-holders do not have a moral right to the properties they own. So now I am tempted to say, scan and share the banned Dr. Seuss books. Scan and share your Roald Dahl novels, your James Bond novels. Bit-torrent the despecialized editions of the original Star Wars movies. And thumb your nose at the copyright holders.

I am not quite there yet. But I am rapidly approaching.

The Importance of Owning Physical Media: Amazon Censors Manga

Amazon has grown increasingly censorious in recent days. The online sales giant became huge by offering anything and everything, but over the past few years, it has, like the other tech giants, begun banning content.

Once a corporation gets a taste for censorship, it will steadily grow more censorious: As I previously discussed, Amazon in 2020 began banning light novels, apparently at random. Then, of course, they coordinated with Twitter, Google, and Apple to delete the microblogging platform Parler from the internet. More recently still, they banned Ryan Anderson’s book, When Harry Became Sally, because it criticized the new religion.

In recent days, I have taken to downloading manga on my Kindle because it’s convenient and cheaper than print. I have a few series I’ve followed that way. Recently, as I was looking over my digital copies of the harem manga We Never Learn, I noticed volume 3 was missing from my collection even though I had purchased and read it. So I checked the Amazon store; it is gone from Amazon entirely, both in print and digitally.

I contacted Amazon, and the tech to whom I spoke eventually told me the book was no longer available, and then he told me this gem:

Screenshot of chat conversation

I slightly regret my emotional incontinence, which I directed at a mere underpaid staffer who is not privy to the reason my property had been taken from me. He did not know why Amazon had deleted a book from my personal library without notice or explanation.

Screenshot of chat conversation

He told me that the availability of the book was up to the “author or content owner,” sidestepping the uncomfortable fact that it is also up to Amazon itself—which has considerably more power—and also sidestepping the fact that Amazon had not merely stopped selling the book but destroyed my copy.

The book, by the way, is still available on Barnes & Noble as of this writing, which indicates that this is an act of censorship on Amazon’s part. As with the previously censored light novels, we will probably never know the reason for sure, but it likely has to do with someone getting offended by the swimsuit on the cover.

We Never Learn Volume 3

This is not the first time Amazon has destroyed customers’ property. Back when the Kindle was new, Amazon revealed that it has the power to delete digital books from our possession without explanation: It famously deleted copies of 1984 right off people’s devices.

The guy I talked to didn’t know why my book had disappeared, nor is there any reason he should. The point of all this, however, is that, when you buy digital, you don’t assume the full control you have when you buy analog, especially in an age of streaming and constant internet connections, an age when our overlords want us to “own nothing and be happy.”

Had I spent the extra money for print copies of this manga, I would still have the whole series without gaps in it; Amazon can delete stuff off my device but can’t break into my house and raid my shelves—yet.

Given how censorious Amazon is becoming, buying print books is increasingly important. This little example of censorship involves a trivial work; its disappearance annoys me, but I won’t shed tears over it. There are, however, much more important and substantial books that will eventually be in our overlords’ crosshairs, and the day will come suddenly when, as with those six Dr. Seuss books, you simply won’t be able to get them at all, anywhere.

Amazon Censors ‘Rag & Muffin’

I’m just about finished with the current round of edits on Rag & Muffin. I’m currently on a long weekend from work, during which I’m entertaining my smol Asian gf. But I’m grabbing a few minutes here and there to put the polish on my manuscript.

Now about this post’s sensationalized headline: Amazon has come out with new “rules” that they will not allow book covers in which guns are firing, pointed at the viewer, or held by a minor.

That pretty much makes any conceivable cover art for Rag & Muffin impossible, since the book’s concept can’t be conveyed visually without an image of a minor holding guns. This is Minors Holding Guns: The Book.

And you can bet that Amazon will not be applying this rule to any big publishers. They won’t be banning manga. In fact, images of minors holding or firing guns are still easy to find on the platform:

Art from Gunslinger Girl depicting a young girl firing a submachine gun.
Still on Amazon.

This is obviously an excuse to crack down on indies and is likely a precursor to more aggressive censorship.

It’s worth testing how consistently Amazon can apply this rule, so I’d like to attempt to upload Rag & Muffin with relevant cover art. If the book gets rejected, my plan is to suggest to my publisher that we produce an image that says “BANNED BY AMAZON” in big letters, and put right in the book’s description that the content of the novel is too hot for Amazon to handle. Anyone who buys the book, either in print or digitally, will of course get the actual cover art.

Rag & Muffin
Phase:Proofing
Due:4 years ago
80%

The Problem with Streaming

Whither Big Tech?

For many reading this, the issue of problems with streaming video is likely an old subject, but it is one that has recently come home to me, so I’d like to talk about it—with the caveat that I’m no expert in internet technology. There is a real benefit to owning physical copies of content, and that benefit has become increasingly clear to me in recent days.

A few years ago, out of nowhere, the “long lost” English dub of the famous 1982 magical girl series  suddenly appeared without fanfare and without explanation on Amazon. The show had, when translated, been repackaged as a series of “movies,” each consisting of four episodes. Because there were a lot of episodes, there were a lot of movies, and Amazon had foolishly priced them like movies instead of like a TV series, so watching the entirety of the translated Minky Momo could cost a few hundred dollars. I did not watch the entire series, simply because it was ridiculously expensive, but I did watch a fair amount of it, and I had to fork over a lot of cash to do so.

The ability to purchase Minky Momo disappeared as suddenly and soundlessly as it came. The titles are still up on Amazon’s site, but now have the message, “Our agreements with the content provider don’t allow purchases of this title at this time.”

More recently, the same thing happened to . Previously, this series was available at no extra charge with an Amazon Prime membership. Now, it is no longer available. I feel lucky that I saw it before it disappeared. I don’t usually manage to hit the windows of availability like that. It still annoys me, though, since I went to all the trouble of writing reviews, and now the material I reviewed isn’t legally available. A quick search didn’t turn up any news items explaining the end of the show’s availability.

Screenshot showing Lyrical Nanoha unavailable on Amazon Video

To Amazon’s credit, the situation is not as dire as I originally supposed. Nanoha, which was previously free with a Prime membership, is no longer accessible at all, but I can still watch the Minky Momo videos I personally purchased; I’m just unable to purchase new ones, and so is everyone else.

In a sense, I have no cause for complaint, because I can still get access to everything I have directly paid for. But if Amazon goes under (unlikely at the moment, but possible in the future), stops offering streaming, or decides it can no longer host Minky Momo at all, then there it goes, gone from my collection, and there is nothing I can do about it.

It’s for this reason I’ve had a preference for iTunes, even though it has its own issues. When I buy videos from iTunes, I can download the file and keep it myself. Some years ago, I was watching My Little Pony; after a silly controversy, one of the episodes was taken down, censored, and uploaded again, but by the time that happened, I already had the original version of the episode, so I was able to keep it, and neither iTunes nor Hasbro could do anything about it. However, if Amazon or another streaming service decided for any reason to censor content, there would be nothing anyone could do to about it, because the content is not on our own devices.

The very concept of content streaming implies a lot of trust, and big tech companies have adequately demonstrated in recent days that they do not deserve to be trusted. The move toward streaming and data “in the cloud” looks like the setup for a high-tech version of  in which content, even of classical works, can be easily molded and censored to meet the demands of the Party. For the moment, that still sounds like a paranoid fantasy, but in another ten years, it won’t.

And it is not as if there is no precedent. Years ago, I discovered that a middle school English textbook I used had silently deleted all references to smoking from a supposedly complete copy of , a shameless and inexcusable act of censorship. Recently, Sony has gotten into gamer news for censoring eroge games out of Japan; I admit I want those games censored or not published at all, but I also admit that if Sony can censor those, it can censor other things. Then we have Funimation, which has been caught at least twice inserting hamfisted political commentary into English dubs. We have Crunchyroll accused of something similar, though the accusations in that case are more dubious. Even if Crunchyroll is (so far) more professional in its handling of translations, its recent decisions and the antics of its staff inspire that same lack of trust.

Amazon’s catalog of available anime—or at least the anime I’m personally interested in—appears to be shrinking rather than expanding. At present, my plan is to finish up  (still available though the other Nanoha titles are not) and then drop the service like a hot rock. For a little while, Amazon was looking to be a serious contender in the realm of anime streaming with Amazon Strike, but that died quickly. Apparently, anime streaming is the one type of business Amazon can’t completely take over.

Perhaps the problem is that they formerly hosted Minky Momo. According to Japanese legend, Minky Momo is a harbinger of disaster, so maybe she doomed Amazon Strike from the beginning.