SFSignal: Here is the table of contents for a new anthology called The Mammoth Book of Mindblowing SF, it is edited by Mike Ashley.
The General SF Reading Public: WTF there are only men in that anthology.
Many SFSignal Commenters: OMG this is messed up! Only men? Boo.
Some Black Chick: Yeah and also: no POC.
Many Other SFSignal Commenters: EVEN WORSE, omg.
Paul Di Filippo1: Dear Friends of SF–
I generally steer clear of controversies in my senescense, having participated in more than my share as a card-carrying cyberpunk2–but I simply cannot allow the unanimity of asinine comments on exhibit here to go unremarked-upon3.
Every single commenter here seems to me to be committing a logical fallacy of tremendous dimension, one so big it distorts entire worldviews:
DEMANDING THAT EVERY SINGLE INSTANCE OF EVERYTHING COMPOSITE SHOULD BE ABSOLUTELY STATISTICALLY REPRESENTATIVE OF THE COMPOSITION OF THE ENTIRE COSMOS4
You know what: a potato field is not likely to contain corn plants5. A pine forest might feature an oak or three, but be 99% pine trees6. The Beatles were 4 white guys7. Sonic Youth has no people of color8! My ream of copy paper is all white, with no sheets of lettuce included9!
Variety is great. Heterogeniety is great. Bias and prejudice suck. A genre–VIEWED AS A WHOLE–must feature a million different voices to be accurate and interesting10.
BUT NOT EVERY SINGLE BOOK OR MAGAZINE OR BAND OR WORK OF ART NEEDS TO CONFORM TO THE LATEST CENSUS RESULTS11.
SFSignal Commenters: WTH was that shit?
Paul Di Filippo: But let me reiterate that there is no law of the universe or of sensible human culture that demands that every institution or product fully represent every possible choice in its compositional makeup12.
If you go to a restaurant, do you demand to see the staff of the kitchen to ensure that they represent the full spectrum or genders and races and ethnicities13? I hope not! You order food and if you like it you patronize the place again. (We’re omitting elements of atmosphere, price, fellow customers, etc. here14.)
If this particular anthology delivers stories that fulfill its premise and title, then it’s done its job15. If you or someone else chooses not to support its existence because it does not meet extra-literary criteria16, then that is perhaps a morally superior, wonderfully principled, honorable stance17. Or perhaps it’s an addled, PC, chip-on-the-shoulder stance18. But there was never any obligation or constraint on Mike Ashely to satisfy these demands19.
Now, if you got the annual LOCUS survey of books published and pointed out to me that there were N number of anthologies published in 2008 featuring Y number of stories, and that only X percent of these stories were written by folks who were not WASP males, and then you argued that X percent was way too low, I would consider you had the beginnings of a rational argument and gripe20.
SFSignal Commenters: Are you HIGH?
Some Black Chick: Dear Paul Di Filippo, What the hell is wrong with you?
Paul Di Filippo: I’d like to raise two matters: First, how are anthologies assembled? By 1) an editor’s reference to his past reading experience, for reprints; 2) “invitation only” for new stories; 3) “open call” for new stories.
The book in question was assembled by a combo of 1) and 2). Obviously, Mike Ashley recalled only stories by men and invited stories only from males21. (Or possibly, invited women who did not respond or qualify22.) This resulted in a men-only book. Is this sexism23, or is it a function of the phenomenon illustrated in the SEINFELD episode of the big-breasted waitresses? Elaine was incensed that a certain diner featured only big-breasted waitresses–until she discovered that all the women were the owner’s daughters. In other words, what seemed to be sexism was “family bias.” Mike relied on his “family connections,” to the dead or living24. And that family included no women. Limited family maybe, but sexism? Your call25.
Second, I think in any such argument it’s always useful to ask “whose ox is being gored?” and to “follow the money.”26
I don’t want to cast aspersions on anyone’s motives, or attempt to mind-read27. But I have to say that when ANY WRITER (not just female writers or writers of color) complains about being excluded from a venue and cites issues of platonic principle and idealism, I always first posit underlying jealousy28 and a desire for status underneath all the lofty hypothetical talk29. Why do I posit such a cynical thing30? Because I’m a fucking writer31, and guilty as all others32! I vividly recall my sense of exclusion from the “adult table” after having had one or two stories published, but before being able to sell regularly33. Hell, I still feel this way, being without a major publisher34.
Now there’s nothing wrong with wanting a place at the table for one’s personal, individual works. If a writer did not believe in her stuff, why would she bother? And if you believe in your stuff, you’ll want it to get the best possible treatment. But to cloak one’s personal gripes, however subconsciously, in the cloak of solidarity with all downtrodden is just plain disingenuous–to use the nicest word35.
I really wonder, as an unperformable thought experiment, whether if the MAMMOTH book had included a token one or two writers of color or female gender, if these writers would have returned their paychecks or even spoken out when the current controversy arose36.
“Walk it like you talk it” remains the operative phrase37.
SFSignal Commenters: What. The. Hell?
Paul Di Filippo: I don’t have time to answer all your petty questions about my ridiculous statements, I have a story to write! Email me if you want, but I have more important things to take care of. *flounce!*38
SFSignal Commenters: What. The. Hell? No, just no.
Paul Di Filippo: Oh, also, Walt Whitman is gay, so therefore you won’t mind if I quote from him. What does Walt Whitman being gay have to do with anything here? Well, Some Black Chick said that he hated men! Okay, bye for realz now! *flounce again!*39
SFSignal Commenters: [attempt to pick up the pieces of the conversation and return it to something resembling sense, all the while on the lookout for further resurgences of greater internet fuckwaddery.]
The End.
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Footnotes