On Hiatus?
Frequently, I've written about my inability to think of a topic worthy of discussion on this site. Again, unfortunately, I'm consumed with this decided blank space where any ideas worth exploring and that legitimately hold my interest seem few and far between. What to right about is a mantra that I'm sure most writers experience, and that's one of my main criticisms of blog culture in general. People who can post on a daily basis and produce work that is even remotely within the confines grammatical sense and interest are amazing. Setting aside the issue of a writer's merit or skill and just focusing on the ability to grab ahold of a subject worth exploring can, and often does, drain the life out of a writer. This is why I think I'll be going on hiatus for awhile until I encounter something worth writing about, which I'm sure with all that occurs in this beaming metropolis won't be long.

Understanding Evil
I'll admit up front that my memory is terrible when it comes to remembering facts, dates, names, or any of the other trappings of historical events. I attribute a lot of this to the fact that I read books too fast with little effort made on my part to remember key aspects that might, in the long run, broaden my knowledge. What inevitably happens is that I'm incapable of accurately citing anything unless I've encountered it on numerous occasions, or enough of an impression has been made on me that I know I don't want to forget this information. So, what comes out of my mouth when trying to discuss anything about something I've read or seen recently is a jumbled recreation that I know is just flat out wrong or, at the very least, somewhat misguided. Unless I have the material in front of me enabling me to quote directly from it, then there's a good chance that I'll mangle the facts.

This brings me to the current topic of my reading, the origins of the Holocaust. I realized that I know next to nothing about the actual process involved in Hitler's decision to implement the Final Solution. I feel, and I'm sure most would agree, that this is simply too important to ignore. We all need to understand how this came to be in order to prevent it from ever happening again. Some might argue that it is happening in Sudan, and that the legal wrangling over the definition of genocide is little more than a bureaucratic nightmare, but that discussion should wait.

Two books, Christopher Browning's The Origins of the Final Solution: The Evolution of Nazi Jewish Policy, September 1939-March 1942 (Comprehensive History of the Holocaust Series) and Richard Rhodes' Masters of Death: The SS-Einsatzgruppen and the Invention of the Holocaust, the former which I've finished and the latter which I'm currently reading, paint a terrifying portrait of life in Europe during World War II. The unimaginable cruelty inflicted upon so many people, primarily Jews, is unfathomable on any scale, and the brutality in which the Final Solution was carried out is beyond comprehension in many ways. This leads me to my current dilemma regarding this type of reading.

Encountered in these books, especially Rhodes', are descriptions of mass executions that are gut-wrenching in their vividness and mind-numbing in their sheer brutality. The numbers are staggering, and the prime number, six million, is so far beyond anyone's ability to comprehend, let alone visualize, that it's nearly unbelievable. What I worry about is not so much about those who deny that the Holocaust actually occurred. Those types of people, while dangerous, are easily dismissed as conspiracy driven lunatics with a anti-Semitic belief system so deeply entrenched in their psyches that no amount of evidence no matter how convincing will sway their beliefs. No, what I worry about is that when one encounters numbers on a page detailing various massacres that occurred all over German occupied Europe and Russia that the numbers become just that, numbers and nothing more. Becoming desensitized to violence is a chilling aspect of modern culture, and I guess it should come as no surprise that those who are desensitized to actual depictions, real or otherwise, of violence then the mind's ability to comprehend implied violence would likewise deteriorate as well. It's sad and troubling, but this subject seems too important to allow that to happen.

Another troubling aspect of immersing one's self in literature devoted to atrocities, especially the Holocaust, is that one seems to encounter in every published account a description of the events committed that trumps that last in stomach-churning disgust. It appears to me that the Nazis committed just about every atrocity upon another human being that one could possibly imagine. This is troubling for many reasons the chief among them that I would hope that the need to keep this subject relevant for all isn't predicated on the necessity to describe actions that defy imagination. In other words, historians shouldn't have to rely on the public's willingness to be offended only if they are legitimately disgusted by descriptions. The numbers should be enough, but sometimes they aren't. A prime example how this type of mindset is subtly shifting is the outrage surrounding the Abu Ghraib scandal only really surfaced after the pictures were made available. The written words weren't enough to warrant outrage and immediate need for investigation.

This brings me back to my memory issue. I want to remember this material. I feel like I need to remember this material, but I'm afraid I can't. I know that what's being described in these books is something that we, as a society, need to understand. Hatred on this scale, and the accompanying evil associated with it, cannot occur again in our lifetimes. I know deep down that my outrage will always be present. I'll never forget that this occurred, but I worry about others who might forget for the very reasons discussed above. How do we remedy this?

B(u)y the Book (an addendum)

After addressing the issue of publishing in my last posting, I came upon the following passage in an article from the July 19, 2004 issue of Newsweek addressing the recent revelation that the number of readers has declined by 14% from 1992-2002. The seemingly blatant contradictions in operating procedure by the publishing industry are addressed as follows:

Oddly, publishers have responded to the decline in readers by publishing far more titles for people not to read. Two decades ago the number of new
books published annually hovered around 60,000, then climbed more than 100,000 in the early '90s. Last year saw a record 164,609 new titles. "Forty years ago, you used to worry that a good book would not be published," says Dan Frank, editor in chief of Pantheon Books. "Now everything is being published, and a lot of good books are being overlooked."

Frank also suggests that publishers need to be "more discriminating about what they print." As a business model, it seems rather ridiculous to feel that it's a wise move to generate more product if demand is at an all time low. Again, I don't know all the intricacies of the publishing industry, but something seems to be amiss when books are being produced at such an awesome clip that a good portion of them are relegated to remainder tables and massive clearance sales.

It's also likely that, even with the record number of titles being produced, some real gems are being overlooked in favor of total duds, but the figure above is astounding, incomprehensible. Print is anything but dead.

B(u)y the Book
Normally, anyone who likes books in general or likes buying books in particular would be overjoyed to see a sign proclaiming "Huge Book Sale." However, years of experience have taught me one thing when it comes to expectations regarding such beckoning heralds: be ready to be disappointed. I realize this isn't the way in which most people would approach such a beacon of commerce, but, like I said, I've grown accustomed to being let down in more ways than one.

The store, one of the many defunct Phar-Mor drugstore/grocerystore/entertainment complexes in the Erie region, now sports a yellow banner hanging over the partial lettering of another failed venture, which obscured by the sign remains a mystery, that practically shouts of a book sale beyond comprehension. As one approaches the entrance, other signs plastered on the windows promise savings upwards of 80%! So far, so good. Walk in to the store, and what you're greeted with are tables of books, thankfully arranged by subject, that stretches towards the back wall. In my experience, it seems that no matter how many books a seller might be trying to unload, they inevitably choose a space much too large for their wares, thus only really occupying a small fraction of the space available. This was no different. From the radio tuned to a terrible local station, to the unceasing wattage of the florescent lighting against the equally luminous white floors, the entire enterprise screams of desperation, or flea market. All of this hits you before you even get a chance to look at any of the books.

As one might expect, the books in any sale that promises such huge savings are nothing more than the smattering of recognizable titles littered amongst the enormous amount of books so unfamiliar that they might as well originate from a foreign country. There are tons of books of all kinds here. Fiction, history, children's, cookbooks, technology, etc. Any category imaginable is represented here, and, for the most part, by texts that have little or no name value. Sure, you see books by authors you know, Henry Kissenger seemed to occupy a nice section, and some titles you recognize, Pynchon‘s Mason & Dixon, but, all in all, it really amounts to little more than publisher's remains and bookstore remainders that couldn't be sold for anywhere near the cover price, and, thusly, they are relegated to a status that seems befitting for only those books that are downright awful and tremendous flops. Books that crazily demanded upwards of $30 in price are now yours for the taking at about $6. A sad comment to say the least. Another frustrating aspect of any type of mass liquidation sale that inevitably rears its ugly head, are those moments when you recognize a title that you do in fact own, but, in all likelihood paid full price for. This likely thought racing through your head, as it did with mine when I saw the above mentioned Pynchon book, “Why did I pay full price for that when it came out in, what was it 1997, when I could have waited seven years and bought it for $7?”

This leads me to question a lot of conceptions I have about the publishing industry. Where do all these books come from? Why were they printed in the first place? If all this dribble can be mass-marketed, then why is it so hard to be published? All of these can most likely be answered easily by publishing executives, and I'm sure there's more than meets the eye when it comes to costs, revenues, and profits for publishing. However, it's maddening to see tons of books, namely the fiction, by authors you've never heard of and titles you've never seen on any bestseller list selling for even the modest sum of $6 when so many other good books, i.e. books that you'd love to see for 80% off, are gathering dust on so many bookstore shelves.

So, what it comes down to is that it's not so much that these books are most likely shit, which I'm pretty confident in labeling them as, it's the idea that books that you want to buy are never for sale like this. Books that cost well over $10 and upwards of $30 languish on the shelves. Books I, and I assume many others, would gladly pay $6 a piece for. The same copy of a coveted book sits forever on the shelf of a local bookstore because no one in their right mind would pay the cover price for a tattered, used looking book. Why isn't this book sent to the limbo of the massive book sale? Is it any wonder that used book sales are soaring on sites like Amazon?

Publishers just don't seem to get it. Articles come out and proclaim that people aren’t reading as much as they were before, but what do you expect when so many factors come into play? Two reasons for the decline of reading that I think are important are as follows. First, you have the high prices that, even if discounted heavily, are still enormous that essentially preclude many people from building up personal libraries. Second, you have libraries that seem to be more concerned with encouraging patrons to use the library for every other purpose other than checking out books. The internet, movies, and cds have replaced the book as the main reason for people to frequent their libraries. I realize you can't force people to read books, but why not try to make them your focal point instead of internet access? Finally, for all the doom and gloom predicted by publishers, isn't it funny how they always seem to make out with the timely release of a book like Clinton's My Life or another installment in the unending Harry Potter franchise? My sympathy wanes and my cause for concern at the unnerving decline in readership subsumes.

The other issue is the simple reaffirmation of my previous claims of publishing, or, to echo Dale Peck's assessment of writing today, most, if not all if it is terrible. I will argue with Peck on the issue of the writers he chooses to skewer, but I do think writers today are producing works that, if not total failures, are at least so far beyond below par that they seem to be written by amateurish fans. Book sales like these serve notice to people that we, as publishers and likewise consumers, aren't able to distinguish between the good, the bad, and the horrific. I would think, if anything, the only good that can come out of sales like these would be that aspiring writers may feel a little more optimistic in their chances when they see the works that do make it through. I doubt, though, than anyone wishes to see their books sold for 80% off, but being published and sold at a discount and not published at all is really no choice at all.