Category — Essay

So, apparently today is the day I stop reading the New York Times.¹

I don’t think I will be alone. I expect a substantial number of people will forego reading the Times on-line in the near future, and instead just turn to other news sources. I don’t begrudge the Times trying to wring every penny out of their readers and advertisers–running a top-tier newspaper is expensive and difficult.  I just think the paywall is destined to fail.

Primarily, I think the Times is overly reliant on the idea that they add such value in their reportage (or have sufficient “brand loyalty” from readers) that people will be willing to pay for access, when other options of equal or better quality are available at no cost to the reader. After all, most Americans get their news from TV, and every additional barrier or cost to access the Times will press readers and viewers towards free sources.²

These free sources–CNN, the BBC, TV news, the Washington Post, Slate, Salon–aren’t “free,” of course. Their costs are borne by advertising–as are the costs of the Times‘s operations.  The Times decision to charge for what their direct competition is providing at no cost just seems like an unsustainable choice.

1. I thought I would keep reading it through the end of the year, through a courtesy subscription from Lincoln, but a glitch in the Chrome browser meant I never saw the button to respond and I missed the window for response. The email rendered correctly in Firefox, I would note, but since I tend to use Chrome I didn’t discover the issue until too late. I abandoned Chrome immediately after discovering this epic fail. Eat death, Chrome!!
2. Yes, I know there are easy ways to circumvent the paywall. I won’t be doing that either. The Times has the right to set its price. I’m just not going to pay it. I’ll be reading The Economist, Washington Post, L.A. Times, and the BBC online instead. In other words, what I read before, minus the NYT.

In 2004, author Norma Khouri was accused of perpetrating a literary hoax of immense proportions. Khouri’s 2003 book Forbidden Love told the story of an honor killing in Jordan and helped raise public awareness about the horrific practice. From her home in Australia, Khouri became the face of a movement to move the UN and others to condemn honor killings and to urge countries to put an end to the practice. As it turned out that Khouri was not who and what she originally seemed, doubts and explanations multiplied into a fog of suspicion and confusion. Was this a case of literary license, cynical exploitation, or something else entirely?

Anna Broinowski’s terrific film, Forbidden Lie$, looks at Khouri’s story, and attempts to untangle the many threads–fact, fiction, con, hoax, art–that surround Khouri, her book, and her detractors. Khouri is a strong presence in the film, and her interactions with the filmmaker raise new questions, spin new stories and result in a trip to Jordan where Khouri attempts to prove her veracity.

Khouri is mesmerizing, but is it the passion of an activist or the seduction of a con artist that draws us in? A running poll on the film’s website shows that opinions continue to differ. Wander into the tangled web and make up your own mind!

* * *

As always, the disclaimer applies: This is a festival to which I have a substantial connection. I have volunteered for the past two years and sat on this year’s Selection Committee. I wrote for the festival catalog and will likely be introducing some of the filmmakers and subjects at the festival. Feel free to adjust for my bias. My blog reportage and opinions, however, do not represent the views of AFI or the SILVERDOCS festival, the Selection Committee, or of any of their staff. No one should construe anything expressed on this site as being endorsed or supported by AFI, SILVERDOCS or anybody other than me.

I find myself issuing this rather odd statement primarily because a few of my most valued readers have been nagging bugging inquiring as to why I am not posting to my blog more frequently. (You know who you are. Yes, I am looking at you.)

I have not been adding text daily because this is not a blog¹. Please don’t get me wrong. I am not blog-adverse. I read lots of blogs, keep my feed reader open all day, and even had a blog myself for a while. It is just that I am constitutionally unfit to be a blogger.

My brilliant nephew, who is a gifted designer and all-around web monkey, once said “Non-current information is BLASPHEMY! I need it in RSS or I cannot consume. In addition, information older than 22.4 days is stale and not to be consumed.” While he was kidding², he voices an opinion common to many bloggers, readers and other info-junkies.

Blogging is usually fast and frequent–whether it is breaking news³, personal updates⁴, or rapid one-shots linked to some new item of interest⁵–blog readers seek a constant flow of the new. I, on the other hand, am slow, and seeking to become slower.

What we often lose with quick hits of information is context. We have lots of data, but little reflection and contemplation of what it means⁶. I’m finding that while I have access to ever more information, I seem to have less access to integrated and deeper knowledge⁷.

So, I’m not contributing to the sound and the fury. I’m going to take my time and reflect on the things that matter to me. If something moves me to write, then I’ll write, and hopefully it will be worth reading⁸.

In addition, political blogging wears me out and makes me tend towards the vicious ⁹. Blogging tends to encourage me to mock, to take the easy shots, to be negative. I detach, rather than engage. I know some bloggers who are so steeped in irony that I don’t think even they know when they are being ironic¹⁰, but I don’t want to be one of them.

When I blog, I lock in on professional politics, or the daily outrage. It’s easier for me to be angry than thoughtful, to sling invective¹¹rather than try to seek insight¹².

So, I won’t be putting up new material as often as I did as a blogger, but I hope when I do, it’s a little better thought-out than my blog posts tended to be and still something you would like to read. So, pick up my feed with your reader, and come back when there is something new¹³.

1. Surely, at first glance, saying “this is not a blog” seems to fail the duck test–that is, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and swims like a duck, it’s a duck. While this website looks like a blog, runs on a popular blogging platform, and has all the trappings and indicia of bloggery, it is not, I assure you, intended to be a blog.
2. Sort of. At least I think so, since he followed this proclamation with “I am a stabbing robot.“
3. “This just in–U.S. invades Canada, freeing up our strategic poutine reserves”
4. “Today, we laid down the new tiles in the bathroom, I gave birth to twins, and little Ben made biodiesel in kindergarten with organic soybeans we grew ourselves.”
5. All hail Boing-Boing!
6. This issue is not new–newspapers give reportage with little context, the weekly and monthly magazines are supposed to serve as platforms for analysis and expert opinion, all while selling soap and toothpaste, of course.
7. And can I even mention wisdom without getting heaped with scorn? It may be a concept that may seem less and less relevant modernly, but seems more and more necessary in my day-to-day life.
8. If it isn’t, then, at least, there won’t be a lot of it to offend your delicate sensibilities, Dr. Johnson.
9. Think I’m kidding? Did you even go look at my old blog? Even I hate me.
10. They are still often funny.
11. Even funny invective. Yes, I’m talking to you.
12. I don’t think I’m any more insightful or profound than the next guy. In fact, I suspect I’m probably less so–too much book-readin’, not enough livin’. Still, why aspire to your basest level?
13. You don’t know what a feed reader is? What are you doing on teh interwebnets? Go get your stone axe and kill me a mastodon, caveman.