Deru Kugi: A Novel about an Alternate Japan

The novel Deru Kugi, by Stan Rice, has recently been published on Amazon Kindle.

This is the author’s summary from Amazon:

 “Hanao Takemoto was a deru kugi—a nail that sticks out. He was strange in Japanese society because he stayed away from the work-hard-play-harder Japanese business culture. Morey Rice was an American friend who lived with the Takemoto family as an exchange student. Morey fell in love with Hanao’s sister Sumiko and never quite recovered from it. Sumiko later married a Japanese man and terminated her friendship with Morey.

“Japan had long reposed under American military protection. But when America begins to alienate its allies, Japan looks to a strong, brilliant business leader, who designs sophisticated ninja drones, to build up its military forces: Minoru Heike, Hanao’s brother in law, Sumiko’s husband. War almost breaks out, with Heike’s hard-liners facing Donald Trump’s loyalists. War is narrowly averted as Heike and the American Secretary of War both commit ritual suicide. Sumiko, as Heike’s widow, feels obligated to kill herself by jumping from a cliff. Morey and Hanao see her and rush to stop her. Will they reach her in time?”

The subtitle says this is a novel about an alternate Japan. That is, history the way it did not and cannot happen. There are many such novels. There are even a few of them about Japan, such as Daikon, by Samuel Hawley. In Hawley’s novel there were not just two but three atomic bombs pointed at Japan. The first two, of course, were for Hiroshima and Nagasaki as in history. The third, fictional one was on a plane that crashed and the bomb was recovered by Japanese forces, who prepared to use it against America. Now that is a clever plot! I will not tell you more about it.

The title Deru Kugi comes from the Japanese saying, Deru kugi wa utareru: the nail that sticks out will be hammered down. This refers to the overwhelming sense of conformity in Japanese society, as opposed to American individualism, in which the squeaky wheel gets the grease.

Rice’s novel is not quite as clever as Hawley’s, but it still gets us to think about how likely it could be that America and Japan, which have so long been close allies, would go to war against one another a second time. It would seem unlikely, except that America, under Trump, is alienating long-time allies. Recently, Japan eliminated the famous Article Nine from its constitution, the article that prohibited building an army that could launch aggression against another country. In real life, Japan is now building its military capacity. They no longer trust America to protect them (despite heavy American investments) from China and North Korea.

This novel, as with Rice’s other novels, face up to serious issues. One that most readers have not heard about is the continued prejudice against the descendants of burakumin, the outcasts of traditional Japanese society. They now officially have full rights as citizens, but this doesn’t mean everyone likes them. Hanao’s wife is burakumin.

It is quite clear to the reader that Rice has had very long and intimate contact with Japan. There are many Japanese sentences in the novel, which the author must have written from his own personal knowledge of Japanese conversation, rather than the use of Google artificial intelligence. For example, if a Japanese person says (the sentence used in every introductory Japanese class) Kore wa hon desu, it is pronounced Kore wa hon des’. An author just picking things up from Google Translate would not know this. Also, the main plot (the narrator and a Japanese woman) is conveyed with a tenderness that must have come from actual experience.

This novel, even though it takes us to the brink of war, is riddled with humor, starting with the first sentence: “Hanao’s business associate, Chiramisu Yamaguchi, had gold coming out of his ass. Literally.” And he invented a lot of artificial-intelligence drones that are like ninja weapons. Rice also includes four embedded short stories, including “The multi-colored shakuhachi player of Hamarin Village,” based obviously on the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

Readers of this blog will enjoy Deru Kugi, a novel from which you will learn a lot.

The Princess of Kashgar: A Historical Romance about Science and Common Sense

How often do you find the scientific method used in a historical romance? Not very often. But you will find it in The Princess of Kashgar by Stan Rice which I introduced in an earlier essay. Only it is not a presentation of the scientific method as developed by a succession of white Renaissance men. It is a method that the Asian protagonists discover and adopt for themselves. Science, to them, is just organized common sense, which is what Thomas Henry Huxley called it. It is based on being thoughtfully observant of the world, like the protagonists Arzu and Tao.

You cannot tell from the Amazon summary that there is any scientific content in this novel at all. But that is why I am writing about it in this science blog. The science is hidden within the sentence, “They unintentionally corrupt this paradise.”

The paradise in Princess of Kashgar, the Valley of the Peach Blossoms, is strictly communistic. Everyone is equal, and their culture enforces this equality. The only way they can maintain this paradise is through ignorance: They know nothing, and refuse to know anything, about the world outside of their valley. When Arzu and Tao escape from the Mongol empire, they corrupt this paradise by bringing, and engendering, a thirst for knowledge.

Tao, a Mandarin, starts a school in which the younger generation of the valley ask and investigate questions about their world. One example is about the Moon. Is the Moon far away and large, or is it near and small? Chinese legend says the latter, and the people of the Valley neither know or care. But Tao’s top student uses a homemade ruler (something the people did not have) to measure the full moon’s diameter at arm’s length, then climbed a mountain to measure it again. Since the two measurements were the same, that must mean that the Moon is far away. It wasn’t just the knowledge that was disruptive but the way of getting it. It was strictly forbidden to climb the mountains around the valley.

This new knowledge, and other scientific and engineering innovations that Tao’s students generate, is disruptive enough that the people ask Tao and Arzu to leave. Science can make a person, or a society, uncomfortable.

The author set this novel in a valley right at the base of the Altai Mountains. Of course, this valley does not actually exist. But every scientist who has studied human evolution will recognize these mountains as one of the last strongholds of the Denisovan people, close relatives of the Neanderthals. In fact, the cave they are named after, Denisova, is in these mountains. Like the Neanderthals, the Denisovans became extinct thousands of years before this novel takes place, a fact the author sweeps aside. Arzu actually meets the last Denisovans. This is also disruptive to the Valley people, although it turns out that the Denisovans save them from Mongol invaders.

I recommend The Princess of Kashgar to you as a historical romance that celebrates the joy of scientific discovery.

The Princess of Kashgar: A Historical Romance about a Neglected People

Historical romances are often set in exotic locations, but not too exotic. One group of people that gets overlooked in fiction, and non-fiction, in the English-speaking world is the Uyghurs of central Asia. Central Asia itself, a land of dusty hills and sheep, gets overlooked except in fiction about Marco Polo. And right now the Uyghurs desperately need our attention and respect. They live primarily in the extreme northwest of China, where the Chinese government is trying to force them to abandon their culture and assimilate into the dominant Han culture. About a decade ago, they were in the news because China had begun re-education camps to this end.

But Stan Rice’s novel The Princess of Kashgar takes place within this neglected Asian culture.

This is the author’s summary of the novel from the Amazon website:

“Arzu is a beautiful young artist from a Uyghur village near Kashgar, on the Silk Road. She is accustomed to being admired, especially by Muhemmet, who leads a revolt against the ruling Mongol Empire. The Mongol warriors kidnap Arzu, planning to take her to Xanadu for Kublai Khan. But she and her mandarin lover Tao escape to a secret paradise in the Altai Mountains, the Valley of the Peach Blossoms. They unintentionally corrupt this paradise. Expelled, they go to Xanadu, where Arzu becomes not only Kublai’s favorite woman but also his close confidante. Only Arzu can keep the Mongols from destroying Kashgar. The Khan then wants Arzu to go back to Kashgar and assassinate Muhemmet. Still unsure if she wishes to join Muhemmet’s rebellion or obey the Khan, she finds Muhemmet and takes a dagger with her into his bedroom. Her assassination attempt fails, and the Mongols slaughter her people. When the Khan dies, Arzu and Tao flee back to the mountain paradise that may or may not accept them.”

 

 

The author has taken on a very difficult literary trope: a paradise hidden in the mountains of Asia. It is almost a cliché, which sounds like the Shangri-La of James Hilton’s Lost Horizon. The Shangri-La trope is itself enough reason for some people to put down the novel without even looking at it. But wait. It all depends on how the author handles it. Hilton’s novel was not actually about the people living in Shangri-La; it was about the Europeans who fly into it in an airplane and meet a wise old man, who turns out to himself be European. The native Asian people themselves play no part in Hilton’s novel except they raise the food and provide sex. Hilton’s Lost Horizon therefore falls into the same racist category as H. Rider Haggard’s She and William Henry Hudson’s Green Mansions: a true lost paradise, whether in Hudson’s South America or Haggard’s Africa or Hilton’s Himalayas, must have begun as an outpost of white civilization. It is time for this racist trope to end. The author of Princess of Kashgar has given us an indigenous Asian paradise, based upon Chinese legend.

The novel The Princess of Kashgar has filled an overlooked spot in the map of historical romance.

Meet Me in Strasbourg, Romance Novel from which You Must Confront Important Issues

In case you think that serious issues are the very thing that you are trying to get away from when you read fiction, particularly a romance, Meet Me in Strasbourg by Stan Rice might convince you otherwise. But if you like to avoid serious issues, you probably would not be reading this blog.

Two of the issues are hunger and medical debt, both of which are major crises in American life.

Other important issues involve race and ethnicity. Even romance writers feel obligated to throw in some racial diversity, but it is seldom related to the plot. Tony is Native American, and Aimée is Jewish. Tony and Aimée do indeed find one another in Strasbourg, leading to a happy ending.

But a couple of things, related to ethnicity, remain unresolved, in this novel as in life.

First, although Native Americans such as myself are a nearly invisible minority in America, we are completely unknown in France. I have to explain over and over to my new acquaintances that I am partie du tribu amerindien Cherokee, qui habite en Amerique. The French have stereotypes of Native Americans that resemble those of white Americans in the 1950s. Americans don’t like to think about Natives, because they feel guilty; but in France, Native Americans are still a humorous stereotype.

And while Hitler and La Seconde Guerre Mondiale are long past, there still are some secret Nazis in Strasbourg, maybe even more than in America. They kick over tombstones and spray-paint synagogues. At least they don’t shoot anyone.

I think the readers of this blog would enjoy Meet Me in Strasbourg by Stan Rice. Just don’t expect it to be escapism.

 

The Ecology of Fiction Publication, part two: Publicity

As I described in the previous essay in the series Ecology of Fiction Publication, launching my fiction will be like a tree or a bush blooming or producing seeds. Customers will buy the books only if they notice them. The tree or bush has to attract animal pollinators or dispersers. Those that rely on wind pollination and dispersal do not have this problem; nothing can attract the wind.

I have a good problem. I have about two dozen fiction books to publish. If I publish one at a time on Kindle, I would have to allow more years than I have remaining in my life to finish them. But if I publish them in cohorts, that is, a group of books at more or less the same time (say, in the same month), then I can finish before I die. I think. But I should not have each cohort of books be randomly chosen from my works.

In nature, a tree can produce a bunch of flowers early, then another bunch of flowers later. One common pattern is that the trees start releasing their pollen first from male parts, then start receiving pollen later on female surfaces. That is, the temporal pattern is not random, but is functionally defined. It might be male vs. female trees, as in cottonwood; or male vs. female parts of a flower, as in maples. There is not enough room in this essay to explain this pattern.

Here are the categories by which I will release and publicize my fiction:

The first group would be the fiction that would be hard for me to publish commercially. I have a good novel called Meet Me In Strasbourg. I think anyone would like to read it, but it would have to be categorized, by a publisher or a librarian, as young adult intellectual romance. This is something I do not have the professional credentials for. If any agent or publisher would read even a little of it, they would like it. But they do not have time, or else their AI bots will not forward it to them. Another good book I wrote is The Princess of Kashgar which would be classified as intellectual historical romance. Once again, I have no credentials here.

But when readers search on Amazon, they do not look just for authors who have credentials in YA or historical fiction. I think I might sell some of these books, of which I have about six.

The second group would be fiction collections. I have six of these. Agents generally do not accept, nor do publishers release, story collections. Which is strange because readers like them. Well, they can find them on Kindle.

The third group would be novels, and sets of novels, that have good commercial promise. I have a bunch of these. I will hold off on these for a little while. If my first one or two groups have reasonably good sales, I can use this to get the attention of agents and publishers for this third group of books. Publishers generally do not like to publish something that has already been on Kindle. But this third group might be successful with commercial publishers if groups one and two have earned me enough money that publishers and agents might want some of it.

The fourth group is my poetry. Poetry hardly ever sells very well. And I do not have poetry credentials. I have good poetry, but Kindle is my only option for it.

A fifth group is my bad stuff. Yes, I admit I have written some. And it will just stay on my computer.

As you can see, I have a plan, and I got it from thinking about what the trees do to get their seeds dispersed out into the world. They have evolutionary fitness. Maybe I can too.

There is more, which follows in later essays.

Meet Me in Strasbourg: A Romance Novel from Which You Can Learn a Lot about Music

I gave the background of this novel in an earlier blog post.

To many people, music is just a pleasant background noise. Occasionally a good tune will stick in a person’s mind. But in this novel, Meet Me in Strasbourg, Tony’s experiences will show you how the more you know about music, the more meaningful it becomes, until it encapsulates your life. Examples include:

• The novel is centered around Die Winterreise, a song cycle by Franz Schubert which, like other Schubert song cycles, is about a lovelorn wanderer mourning the rejection of his love. Die Winterreise begins with the wanderer going to his love’s house to bid farewell to it. Then he sings about one thing after another that reminds him of how miserable he is. At the end, he gives up and joins with a penniless organ-grinder (Der Leiermann) on the street. Only Schubert’s astonishing music can rescue this poetry from utter depression. As the principal characters Tony and Aimée develop their friendship and love, their direction is certainly not that of Schubert’s wanderer. They swear that there will be no Leiermann for them! Then circumstances beyond their control intervene and crash their comfortable love.
• Tony composes band music, just good enough to perform. Having composed wind ensemble music myself, rather indifferently, I can testify that it is a very difficult task.
• Tony plays the recorder, and this music plays an essential role in bringing him and Aimée together.
• In a concert, the band plays an arrangement of the medieval hymn Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence, which has (as many of you can attest) an almost magical effect upon the mind. Its climax verse is “And the powers of Hell shall vanish as the darkness fades away.” Is this really true? The stirring music forces the question upon the minds of Tony and Aimée. I will write about this in my other blog, the one devoted to religion.

One could almost believe that, in Meet Me in Strasbourg, by Stan Rice, music is not a background but a character.

Meet Me In Strasbourg: a Romance Novel from which You Can Learn a Lot of Science

You would not be reading this blog if you were not interested in science. So you probably don’t read very many romance novels. I do not; but Meet Me in Strasbourg, a novel by Stan Rice is an exception. I summarized it in an earlier essay.

 

There was a prominent scientist who loved romance novels with happy endings. That scientist was Charles Darwin. Maybe he intended the novels as escapism from the heavy issues involved with his theory of evolution, and the social unrest it caused.

But Meet Me in Strasbourg is a novel that presents many scientific concepts, not as escapism but as part of the plot and character development. These are not concepts from science class, but from the direct experiences of life. Examples include:

• All perception is illusion. The brain knows nothing except what the sensory organs tell it, and all of those sensations consist of nerve impulses. It is the brain that sorts them out into sight, hearing, taste, etc. and makes sense out of them. If the brain does this incorrectly, we call them delusions.
• There is a lot about evolution in this novel, which is why I am telling you about it in this blog. This is especially true of sexual selection, Darwin’s “other theory” of 1871. Why do we find symmetrical faces beautiful? Because they indicate a person’s health and potential fitness as a mate. Is “falling in love” just craziness? Tony’s no-nonsense friend Roald explains that if falling in love—a universal experience—were just crazy, natural selection would have gotten rid of it. But falling in love promotes sexual selection. One teacher even explained to Tony why he should want Aimée to be as beautiful as possible, even though she does not need to be, since she is already engaged to Tony. You can even find out about evolution—It’s what’s for dinner. As Tony explains to his kid sister, of course you don’t like broccoli; many vegetables taste bad because they don’t want you to eat them. But it turns out the truth is a little more complicated than this.
• You can also learn about the mathematics of probability. When Aimée vanishes and goes to France, Tony decides he is going to go there and find her. Roald, the no-nonsense friend I told you about earlier, explains that the odds of him finding Aimée would be one in a million. Of course, Tony tries it anyway.
• You can learn a surprising amount about DNA, chlorophyll, hummingbirds, stellar evolution, facial symmetry, the bacteria of the human body, and nutrition in this novel. You can even learn about how the soil holds water—explained to you by a janitor.
• One of Aimée’s creative writing class stories is about green flatworms. It turns out that flatworms on the beaches of the north coast of France are one of the best examples of symbiosis: photosynthetic algae live inside of the flatworms and make food for them, in exchange for eating the worm’s waste products.

Read Meet Me in Strasbourg, by Stan Rice. You might be surprised at how much fun the intellectual life, especially science, can be.

Meet Me in Strasbourg, an Intellectual Romance Novel

Normally, to call a novel, especially a romance novel, intellectual is the kiss of death. But if you dislike intellectual novels, you wouldn’t be reading this blog. I want to tell you about a romance novel that is anything but formulaic: Meet Me in Strasbourg, a novel by Stan Rice. The readers of this blog are interested in science and the life of the mind, things that do not usually show up in romances. Romances often have gorgeous or strikingly handsome protagonists; not this one. These characters are appealing because of their minds.

 

Here is the author’s summary, taken from the Amazon site:

“When the university-bound Native American science student Tony encounters the brilliant and painfully shy French humanities student Aimée in California, he has no idea that their love would drag him halfway around the world.

Tony and Aimée discover their shared passion for music, particularly the love-lieder of Schubert, and then for one another. Tony quickly leaves the social circle that scorned Aimée for her plainness and quietness and becomes her defender and protector. And does she need protection—from the poverty and malnutrition of living alone with her unlucky father, and from her father’s unscrupulous associates in the shadowy world of smuggling. Aimée (French for beloved) finally discovers what it is like to be loved. Just when her joy seems inevitable, she and her father disappear. Tony alters the entire course of his life to go look for her in France.”

Both Tony and Aimée are happy intellectuals. At first, their different kinds of intelligence begins to drive them apart. Every novel has to have some tension that drives the main characters apart before bringing them back together. Tony criticized Aimée’s stories in a creative writing class, and found himself having to apologize to her. A thoughtless joke also made her run from him. But even after they had become engaged, Tony continued to make mistakes that were well intentioned but created stress, such as when he wrote a solo for the painfully shy Aimée in a band piece. He meant it as a tribute to her—the piece was based upon the world’s oldest love song, from Babylonia—but ended up making her into a spectacle, which she hated more than anything else.

It is not intensely intellectual. If intensely intellectual is what you want, you should read the novels of Richard Powers. They are so intellectual that I can hardly understand them, even with a Ph.D. But they are good, especially Overstory, which might well be the best novel ever written. Back in the day, I tried to read Gold Bug Variations and gave up.

Many of the characters are very intelligent and do not attempt to hide it. The author is not afraid to follow them into significant intellectual discussions. Even the janitor/groundskeeper is intellectual. In later essays, I will give examples of science and math, and of music, that are central to the plot, not just thrown into the novel. May I recommend this novel if you, like me, believe that there are a lot more intelligent people in the world than usually show up in fiction?

The Ecology of Fiction Publication, part one. Publishers vs. Kindle

I have frequently written on this blog about my non-fiction publications. But I have also written a huge amount of fiction. My fiction would be very hard to sell to commercial publishers, because I have so much science in them. That is exactly the reason that readers of this blog would like them, and commercial publishers would not.

I am no amateur in fiction writing. I have been writing fiction for decades, often rewriting the same story or novel over and over until I get it as good as it can be. In the process, I have removed whole chunks of text that I originally thought were really good but which I admitted would not advance the plot and might, however well written, cause the reader to give up.

But I have almost no fiction publications—just in a couple of minor literary journals that no longer exist. I have earned a grand total of $25, which I sent to a writer and environmentalist who, unlike me, had no steady employment. So the question arose, decades ago, how should I publish my fiction?

The days of submitting manuscripts “over the transom” ended decades ago. Now, to approach an editor of even a small press, you have to be represented by an agent. When I started writing fiction, agents were actual people, and they sent me personal responses. But now, the prospective fiction writer seldom gets any response whatsoever, and if so, it is a form letter. I now have the suspicion, in the modern age of artificial intelligence, that agents almost never read submissions, because they already know what they are going to send to publishers: the works written by their friends, themselves under a different name, or by an AI program they have installed. They claim to be looking for new talent, but I simply do not believe it. In fact, agents may actually themselves be artificial intelligences. They may have their photos on the agency website, but they may not be actual people. An agency can leave the entire process—choosing which manuscripts, if any, to represent, and then sending them to editors—to artificial intelligence. I have encountered a grand total of about five agents out of hundreds who have given personal responses that indicate that they are human. An AI bot can write fiction that is as marketable as that written by most human authors. I guess what I am saying is that getting a fiction agent for a commercial publisher is practically impossible. I have been told this by many authors—you know, the ones that spend their time and money going to writers’ conferences.

For many years, an attractive alternative has been to self-publish on Amazon. Gone are the days of vanity presses, where the author pays for a few hundred copies of the book to be printed, and then the author has to figure out what to do with them. These are the days of Amazon, in two ways:

First, no commercial publisher can afford to do “print-on-demand,” because there has to be a minimum print run of at least a thousand books each day to justify the costs of printing. But Amazon can do it, because they sell so many books. It does not have to be a thousand copies of the same book. Print-on-demand is one of the Amazon options. If just one person wants your book, they can get it.

Second, e-books cost very little to produce. A Kindle book can be produced and sent to customers with very little cost, except for maintaining the servers. Once again, if just one person wants your e-book, they can get it.

Kindle publishing is rather clumsy. If it is just text, as in most novels, it works fine. But I have never seen a really satisfactory illustration in a Kindle book. It usually ends up really small and illegible.

The advantages of Kindle books are astonishing. The software, at least now, is relatively simple. You provide a cover illustration (just the front cover), a document with the whole book in it, financial information, the jacket blurb (which will show up on the Amazon site), etc. You can do it all yourself. If you mess something up, you will get an email telling you what to fix. The best part might be that the author gets to keep 70 percent of the money. In contrast, a commercial publisher offers 10 percent, which must be split with an agent. This would mean an author gets 8 percent. A hundred books (@$5.00) generates $500, of which the author gets to keep $350. From a commercial publisher, you would get $40.

Now, for the ecology of book publishing. It is like a tree or bush disseminating its seeds. There are lots of ways of doing this. A tree could produce a few, large seeds, inside of fruits that animals want to eat; or a lot of small seeds, that blow away in the wind. Wild plant species use both options, just like a writer could use the agent/publisher option or the Amazon option. There is, in the world of publishing just as in seed dispersal, no single correct way of doing it. I spent decades on the agent/publisher route, and am now ready to try the Kindle route. My first Kindle novel just came out today.

What you don’t want to do is to publish online and then ignore all publicity. Fruits and seeds dispersed by animals put a lot of expenditure into publicity—that is, into attracting animals to disperse them. Publicity—that’s what the next essays are about.

The Incredible Burden of White Guilt

Every human being who has ever lived (except, Christians claim, Jesus) has sinned. We all know this is true, even though we cannot easily define sin. Every culture group, race, and country consists of people all of whom have sinned, many of them in a spectacularly evil fashion. There is no group from which we cannot find a long list of atrocities, from prehistory to the present.

But whites have committed atrocities way out of proportion to their numerical importance in human history, and in human culture today. The example I will examine now is slavery. Every cultural group has had slaves, primarily from among captives from other social groups. But whites have had more slaves, treated them worse, and continue to honor the tradition of slavery, more than any other group.

Take, for example, black slavery in the southern colonies, later the southern states. (These thoughts have been inspired by reading Geraldine Brooks’s novel Horse.) The main reason that southern whites started buying black slaves was that they had killed most of the Native American slaves. Native slaves were cheaper, but they were mostly dead by about the year 1600. So the whites bought slaves from Africa who were captured from their tribes and transported as cheaply as possible (tied up in their own filth in slave ships) to the South. The shrewd slave traders took into their calculations that many of their captives would die while on board.

The Southerners treated their slaves much more cruelly than was necessary or even profitable. The slaveowner men would force not just work but also sex on their slaves. I remember an exhibit of slave artifacts in a museum in Tulsa (which is the reddest red state, but museums everywhere tend to be progressive) that showed a bill of sale for slaves. A 45-year-old man went for about $50, while a seventeen-year-old girl went for $600. What did the girl have that made her twelve times as valuable? Sexuality, that’s what. Not only was it legal rape, but it was the way that plantation owners could keep up their slave populations without having to import more of them, which was theoretically illegal after 1808.

The owners would force the slaves to do whatever they chose, regardless of the strengths and talents of the slaves. In Brooks’s novel, a very skillful slave horse trainer was forced to work in the fields while inept white trainers allowed a champion racehorse to be injured. If slaves were an investment, southern white enjoyed abusing their investments in a stupid fashion. Few slave owners would permit slaves to learn to read and write; illiterate whites would look down upon even the free blacks who could read.

Not only that, but the white slave owners would take credit for any innovations or improvements in land and property that the slaves came up with.

In some cases, southern whites were nearly crazy with their lust for cruelty. A prime example was the Confederate terrorist William Quantrill, who exulted in cruelty not only against blacks but against any whites he suspected of not being racist enough. He is one of the characters in Brooks’s novel.

Whites would find or create opportunities to insult and injure even free blacks, that is, the few that were allowed to purchase their freedom. Any black person could be arrested and detained until their status as a free black could be established. This may sound uncomfortably like ICE detaining anyone they suspect of being in America illegally, but at least ICE once in a while allows claims of legitimate presence in America to be investigated.

Slaves were considered property of their white owners, but they treated their slaves worse than they would have treated any of their other property, whether mules or saddles. In some cases, they enjoyed torturing their slaves.

White racists try to use the imperfection of blacks as an excuse for past slavery and ongoing cruelty. A vendor of Confederate flags, at a roadside market in Oklahoma, told me that it was the blacks who began enslaving other blacks, that’s how the slave trade got started. But who was the market? When I told him that what he was doing was offensive, he called the sheriff, but I got away before being arrested. No, this was not back in the 1960s. This was about 2015.

I am Cherokee. Some of my ancestors owned slaves. But our collective Native guilt is far less than that of southern whites.

What about northern whites in America? Some northern whites, and some Europeans, profited from black slavery, but the entire southern American culture was based upon it.

I did not contribute to any of this. I am not responsible for the sins of my ancestors. But part of my white privilege has resulted from the oppressions of the past. Maybe nothing can be done about it now, but when I look a person of color in the eye I feel a level of guilt that goes beyond the calculus of legal liability. I cannot simply pretend that it is not there.

White guilt is a heavy burden, but the only people who feel it are those who, like myself, are trying very hard to live in a redemptive fashion and contribute to a fair and just society. I love people of color (with a few individual exceptions) even if they do not, and cannot, know it. In contrast, racists do not feel any guilt.

The burden of white guilt continues today. In Brooks’s novel, the twenty-first-century black protagonist gets shot by police who assumed, at a glance, that he was a criminal. His white friend was very upset by this, but his black friends said he should have expected it. If a black man sees police, he should just assume that he is likely to be shot. I hate to admit that this is true.

The black protagonist from the nineteenth century in Brooks’s novel chose to live in Canada, and explained why: even after emancipation, he could feel white hatred all around him.

I live in France. I am embarrassed to be an American right now, with unabashed racists in charge of the country of which I am a citizen. I am always instantly ready with an apology on behalf of my country. What can I say to the Lebanese woman in my French language class, whose cousin was just killed by an Israeli, or American, bomb? I can see in her eyes that she does not blame me, but I have to go further and assure her of my sympathy, and that I do not support Trump’s war, nor was I or American citizens in general consulted before He chose to start it as if He is God who can decide everyone’s fate.

The Teachable Moment: A Feather

When I retired from college science teaching, I thought I would continue teaching in an informal capacity. I have continued to write books and blog essays (you are reading one). I also have two grandchildren who are at the discover-the-wonder-of-the-world stage of childhood. I thought that I would impart to them fragments of my vast knowledge about the world.

Of course that is not exactly how it worked. They (ages 7 and 5) have a nearly unlimited capacity to ignore whatever anyone is saying to them, even mid-sentence. What I had to do instead was to wait for a teachable moment, when they showed spontaneous interest in something, or could be led into it.

They were playing with their nature treasure boxes, which included pigeon feathers. (Pigeons make up most of the bird biomass of Alsace.) These particular feathers were fine and delicate. I said I had a story about feathers that my mother (their great-grandmother) told me. Lena immediately said that people used to dip quills in ink to write. But, I said, they had pens by the time my mother was a little girl. Instead, I told them about how my grandfather, their great-great-grandfather, used a turkey feather to put medicine on my Mom’s face. This is not what they were expecting.

My mother, as a little girl, got into the natural world in Oklahoma by brushing poison ivy (Toxicodendron radicans) against her face. Of course, her face swelled up dangerously. Her father went to town in his wagon (other people had cars, but not him) to get medicine, which was probably some ointment with mercury or something in it. He used a turkey feather to gently apply it to my mother’s face. It was important to not break the skin, which would leave a scar, and also allow bacteria to infect the skin. The in my granddaughter’s box opened up a discussion of infection.

And of allergies. Poison ivy is not poison. Urushiol, found also in poison oak (T. diversilobum) and poison sumac (T. vernix) is not poisonous. It just provokes a massive allergic reaction in most people. But not in everyone. Some people do not react to urushiol at all. One of the main characteristics of allergies is that they differ from one person to the next. I told them the story of the girl with a peanut allergy who died after her boyfriend ate a candy bar and kissed her. (I heard this on the news, but have been unable to trace a source for it.) Most of us do not have peanut allergies. But Lena knew a distant cousin, on the French side of the family, who did.

Urushiol does not cause allergic reactions in all mammals. Deer eat the leaves, and squirrels eat the berries. Horses can eat the leaves. The urushiol comes out in their sweat and you can get it on your legs from riding the horse. I do not know if dogs and cats can get poison ivy, since they are primarily carnivores; but if your dog runs around in poison ivy and then runs up to you, beware of giving the dog a hug.

But it was not just science education; it was also cultural education. An Asian species, T. vernicifluum, produces sap that is used in the production of Chinese and Japanese lacquerware.

All this biology education, just from a feather in my granddaughter’s nature box. She showed genuine interest and surprise. I could easily have missed this teachable moment, had I not been watching for it.

Connections? Real and Imagined

James Burke’s Connections  and its many spinoffs were very popular on British television and American educational channels a couple of decades ago. They were certainly entertaining and thought-provoking in the way they drew connections between events of past centuries and things that have happened in the modern world. The implication is of cause and effect. But is this an illusion?

 

To quote Wikipedia: “Connections explores an “Alternative View of Change” (the subtitle of the series) that rejects the conventional linear view of historical progress. Burke contends that one cannot consider the development of any particular piece of the modern world in isolation. Rather, the entire gestalt of the modern world is the result of a web of interconnected events, each one consisting of a person or group acting for reasons of their own motivations (e.g., profit, curiosity, religion) with no concept of the final, modern result to which the actions of either them or their contemporaries would lead. The interplay of the results of these isolated events is what drives history and innovation, and is also the main focus of the series and its sequels.”

To this point, Burke’s view can hardly be questioned. One cannot presume or even imagine that people in past centuries could predict the consequences of their discoveries.

Wikipedia continues, “To demonstrate this view, Burke begins each episode with a particular event or innovation in the past and traces the path from that event through a series of seemingly unrelated connections to a fundamental and essential aspect of the modern world.”

To me, the key point is seemingly unconnected. Many of the purported connections are not real—not just that there is no direct, but not even any indirect, connection. The purported connections were most likely neither functional nor phylogenetic. That is, they were not processes that worked the same way, nor was one descended from the other the way amphibians were the descendants of fish. It may just be a similarity of form that Burke noticed, and nobody else could see until Burke, with his inimitable style, reified them. I had the intuition, when I watched the series (which my intelligent daughter loved), that it was all imaginary. And perhaps, I now realize, I might have been right.

Burke’s contribution was in getting his viewers excited and to use their imaginations; to ask, “I wonder if…” But this is not the end of investigation; it is merely the beginning. Not less important for it, of course.

Sexual Selection and Music: Nannerl's Story

 

Something to think about (music and sex) as spring arrives.

Back when I was taking music courses as an undergraduate at the University of California, Santa Barbara, everyone was wondering why the great musicians were male. Not all of them, of course; two female composers, Thea Musgrave and Emma Lou Diemer, were on our faculty. Clara Schumann, Robert’s wife, was an example from the nineteenth century. More recently, there was Dawn Upshaw. But this list is very short, compared to the list of famous male composers.

It is easy to attribute this solely to male oppression of females. Male domination in music is just another example of male domination of society in general.

But there is another factor at work. Males often show off to other males, and to potential female mates, in the hopes of increasing their mating opportunities, within or outside of a pair-bond, in humans as in many other animal species. While this often takes destructive forms, such as war and abuse, it can also take creative forms, especially in big-brained humans. Artistic or intellectual creativity is often a way in which males can show off. We all know of the spectacular paintings on European cave walls. But those same caves echoed the music of bone flutes and drums by which musicians (perhaps mostly male) enthralled their congregations.

This happens more often males than females because evolutionary fitness in males often results largely from the number of mates, while this is not true so much in females. For a man, reproduction can consist of a single sex act, while for a woman the whole process of pregnancy, childbirth, and raising children may be her burden alone. Thankfully, there are many of us men who are nurturing and faithful rather than rapacious. But a male can have hundreds of offspring (or thousands, for Genghis Khan) while no woman can have that many. The inevitable result of sexual competition is that some men have lots of offspring, while most of the others compete with one another for whatever women are left.

Women also compete with one another to have the best males as the fathers of their children. Also, women need to have musical ability in order to recognize it in men. Alma Schindler, herself only a passable musician, nevertheless recognized the genius of Gustav Mahler and maneuvered herself into being his wife. Nevertheless, sexual competition is stronger in men than in women.

Sexual selection must have chosen whatever genetic basis there is for musical ability, in men more than in women. But that genetic basis cannot be found only in men. Men have a Y chromosome, which is largely a lump of useless DNA. The genetic basis of musical proficiency must be found on either the X chromosome or the non-sexual chromosomes, and this means that it shows up perhaps just as frequently in girls as in boys. In the absence of ongoing sexual election, musical ability, even if it began as a male characteristic, would soon equalize itself between the sexes.

And this is why even spectacular musical ability shows up in females even if it started in males thousands of years ago.

Everyone has heard of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who was clearly a musical genius. But did you know he had a sister who was perhaps just as gifted as he was? She was a superb keyboardist, and her father Leopold took her on concert tours throughout Europe at the same time as he took young Wolfgang. Audiences were perhaps even more impressed with the beautiful Maria Anna Mozart (nicknamed Nannerl) than with her little brother who could do musical tricks. But her father convinced her that her only chance for success was as a performer and teacher, and as a wife. While she continued teaching and performing until her own death, decades later than Wolfgang’s, none of her compositions survive. One movie I saw (of several that have been made) showed her, at about fifteen years old, sadly burning her compositions in the family fireplace. It turns out Wolfgang was a genius; but perhaps Nannerl was also. We will never know.

 

 

Natural and sexual selection, drivers of human evolution, are not destiny. The adaptations they provide must be continually maintained by culture, as I explained above. As culture evolves, the forces of selection can change. Thankfully they are already doing so. When I was in high school, most brass players in school bands were boys, except the very competent Linda. The girls chose flute and clarinet. When I was in California State Honor Band in 1974, I was the last chair baritone horn player. The first chair player (in the concert band) was a black girl. She was really good. I admired her for her pioneering spirit on her instrument and for the way she represented her ethnicity. This was an important part of my development, coming as I did from a racist family.

There are forces that try to suppress opportunities for women. A few years ago, there was a scandal among the Southern Baptists because male leaders often seduced females without serious punishment. The church’s response? There were a few women in positions of Southern Baptist leadership. The church removed them and forbade women to be in such positions at all.

But even religion cannot completely hide female talent. Probably every church choir director has heard of composer Natalie Sleeth. Things look pretty grim for women in conservative religion, but I suspect things will never get as bad as a Margaret Atwood novel.

Department of War

Most of us have grown up hearing about DOD (Department of Defense), and this is still how it is universally known. However, the Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth has decided to rename it the Department of War, and that is how you will find it on the official federal website (www.war.gov). The index of departments and agencies still lists it as Defense, but its leaders consider it the Department of War.

 

 

It is difficult to overestimate the importance of this change, to America, and in the eyes of the world.

Consider how one would evaluate the effectiveness of a federal agency. If it is the Department of Defense, the question we need to answer is, Is America being adequately defended? I am not including those tasks that have been assigned to the Department of Homeland Security. Since most Americans do not live in fear of foreign aggression, we could conclude that DOD is doing its job and the Secretary of Defense is doing his.

But if we call it Department of War, then this department has to be fighting a war somewhere, or else it is not doing its job. If America is not fighting a war, then the War Department is effectively inoperative. This is why Pete Hegseth believes that, at any given time, America must be fighting at least one war. Otherwise, Hegseth is not doing his job.

People often ask if there is an Iran exit strategy. If not, what is it that we are trying to accomplish? But that is not the right question. We need to have at least one war, and from this war we must not have an exit strategy. We must be permanently at war.

This is what our supposed allies think when they see us. We are a nation that must be permanently at war. And we must find someone to conduct war against. Right now it is Iran. Who will it be next? Will it still be Iran five years from now? Or will we find another target? But we must have one or more targets or else we, as a nation, are failures.

That, at least, must be the view of Trump and Hegseth.

The Evolution of Weirdness

Weirdness cannot be defined, but whatever it is, it evolved, which means it provided an evolutionary advantage at many times during human evolution.

One reason it cannot be defined is that what one culture, in space or time, considers weird, another culture may not. One example is psychopaths. In most cultures, most people dislike psychopaths. They are very, very smart, and almost always use their intelligence and their charisma to advance their own interests. We tend to think of the psychopathic mass murderers and other criminals, but many psychopaths (who constitute about one percent of the population) pass as ordinary people and may be surprised by their own (often genetically-based) diagnosis. A lot of politicians and preachers are psychopaths, who cultivate the goodwill of others for their own financial or sexual benefits. And they also like to shame you for suspecting that they are committing acts of evil. It takes highly-developed social intelligence to recognize a psychopath. See the book by Kevin Dutton: The Wisdom of Psychopaths: What Saints, Spies, and Serial Killers Can Teach Us about Success. New York: FSG, 2012.

The success of psychopaths depends on the social situation. Adolf Hitler was a psychopath, and he got millions of people to follow him. After Germany lost World War Two, many Germans felt mentally liberated, and wondered, What were we thinking, to follow this jerk? Germany was not a nation of psychopaths, but maybe the Nazis were a party of psychopaths.

But there are many other ways of being weird. Most of us are a little weird in a few ways. But I mean clinical weirdness. One example is Williams Syndrome [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Williams_syndrome]. People with Williams Syndrome have distinctive facial characteristics, and medical problems such as heart conditions. They have diminished intelligence, overall. They are extremely talkative, and effusively express their emotions. They are almost always cheerful. I have never knowingly met one but I get the impression that it would be really hard to not like them.

One word you would not associate with Williams Syndrome is suspicious. In order to become socially powerful, within your society, you have to be suspicious of the motives of other people in your society, and certainly of people in other societies. People with Williams Syndrome will walk right up to you and trust you. This is socially awkward. But openness and the willingness to trust is an essential component of altruism, of social bonding. It’s just that these people have too much of a good thing.

Another reason weirdness cannot be defined is that each kind of weirdness has its own social and genetic basis. Williams Syndrome is associated with a specific genetic deletion that affects a specific part of the brain. There is no set of terms in any language that exactly matches the symptoms of this deletion. And, in fact, characteristics resulting from mutations can be highly modified by upbringing and social circumstances. I am thinking of a person who acts as if she has Williams Syndrome, but who looks normal, and is brilliant.

Throughout human evolution, behavior patterns have sometimes been useful and sometimes not. Since each behavior has a different set of causes, human behavior has proven to be immensely variable. This has happened not because natural selection has done a bad job on human behavior, but because both the source and the target of human behavior is constantly shifting.

 

We can be glad we have empathy and altruism in the human species. And maybe Williams Syndrome is the price we pay for it.

 

Next, I will write about the evolution of nerds. Or not. Maybe I am a bit too close to the subject to be objective.

Floaters: An American Health Care Horror Story

Actually, it is not a horror story, but a story of dysfunction. It is one more reason why American health care is so expensive.

Ocular floaters are caused by clumps of collagen that form in the vitreous humor of the eyes. They cast shadows on the retina. This usually happens in older people, but I had a lot of floaters when I was a kid. I looked up into the clear California skies and wondered what those gelatinous blobs were. I spent most of my life ignoring them.

But since they become more common with age, they began to bother me. When I retired and started Medicare, I decided to do something about them. A local ophthalmology office advertised that they could eliminate floaters from your eyes. So I decided to do it. Laser was used to disperse the clumps of collagen.

It took five sessions. I do not recall paying anything for them, but Medicare paid a lot, I am sure, though of course I never saw these bills.

To begin with, five sessions were not necessary.

• In the first session, my eyes were examined by the ophthalmologist who advertised that he could treat floaters. But after he examined my eyes, he said that it was actually another ophthalmologist at his clinic who did it. Nobody told me this when I made the appointment.
• In the second session, another ophthalmologist looked for floaters and found them.
• In the third session, all I did was sign up for the use of the laser machine.
• In the fourth session, the ophthalmologist shot lasers at the floaters as he yelped like a cowboy on a bronco. (This was in Oklahoma.) In the few weeks afterwards, I could still see the floaters.
• In the fifth session, the ophthalmologist examined my eyes and old me the floaters were gone. I said I could still see them, but he told me I was wrong.

This brings me to the second point. The treatment, as far as I can tell, does not work. When I moved to France, I decided to not think about it anymore. But I developed diabetes, which requires annual retinal exams. During one of these exams, I asked the ophthalmologist about laser treatment of floaters. He said that they don’t do this in France, because it doesn’t work. I have since found that laser treatment is used only in rare and severe cases.

The worthless floater treatments I had in America took a lot of my time, but not money. But it cost the American taxpayers plenty. This is money that Europeans can spend on better health care than in America. I wonder how much American health care is weighed down by unnecessary and ineffective treatments.

Biblical Deserts

There are many references in the Bible to deserts, none of them good. One of them is an Old Testament prophecy that Handel used in The Messiah: Make straight in the desert a highway for our God (Isaiah 40:3).

Clearly, Old Testament deserts are things that we should get rid of. And the Old Testament describes the reclamation of desert areas as the work of God. One of these passages follows immediately after the above quote.

When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue is parched with thirst, I the Lord will answer them, I the God of Israel will not forsake them. I will open rivers on the bare heights and fountains in the midst of valleys; I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water. I will put in the wilderness the cedar, the acacia, the myrtle, and the olive; I will set in the desert the cypress, the plane, and the pine together, that men may see and know, may consider and understand together, that the hand of the Lord has done this, the Holy One of Israel has created it (Isaiah 41: 17-20).

The deserts, or wilderness areas, are not to be confused with thriving, highly-evolved desert ecosystems. In natural deserts, the plants have many exquisite adaptations to deal with heat and drought. Succulent plants store water, desert bushes have very deep roots, and desert plants even have special forms of photosynthesis that allow them to make food under all but the driest conditions. Some desert plants are small and tender, and have astonishing flowers, and they appear totally out of place in a dry desert. The way they survive is by living their whole lives, from seed to seed, in the brief rainy season. These are the deserts we need to protect, such as in Saguaro National Park (Arizona) or Anza-Borrego State Park in California. These are not the deserts to which the Bible refers.

 

 

The deserts of the Bible are the lands that have been corrupted by human civilization. Poor farming practices swept away the natural plant cover and caused soil erosion, leaving a barren landscape. That is why cities that were once thriving consisted only of collapsed walls surrounded by bare soil. This is what the earliest Sumerian cities looked like even at the time Isaiah wrote his prophecy. There was plenty of degraded land even around Jerusalem that everyone who heard Isaiah’s prophecy could readily see. To this day, most of the land around the Mediterranean remains partially degraded from millennia of human abuse. Today we think of Italy and Greece as dry shrublands; but they used to be, according to ancient writings, covered with thick forests.

If you are someone who is involved in any stage of land reclamation, to take a landscape that has been devastated by decades or centuries or millennia of human mismanagement, and turn it into a thriving ecosystem, you are doing some of God’s work. Although I do not believe that the modern nation of Israel is in fact God’s own special country, it is obvious that modern Israel has done a lot of reclamation, making what had been a devastated landscape bloom. They have been pioneers of soil conservation and dry land agriculture. Drip irrigation was invented in Israel. The joke goes: on the cover of the birthday card it says, In honor of your birthday, a tree has been planted in Israel. Inside the card it says, Wednesday is your day to water it.

The lands that have been reclaimed from human-produced deserts do not look like natural deserts. Just read the list of plant species in the passage above. Cedar, acacia, myrtle, olive, cypress, plane, pine. There is no natural ecosystem where you will find all of these trees together. They have to be planted in a garden that has displaced the degraded land.

None of this is miraculous. It is just good, hard work based on scientific studies (many of them Israeli). Isaiah says that God has done this. But it was not miraculous. God works through us, in this case through scientists and farmers. In order to see it as God’s work, you have to do what Isaiah said: to see and know, to consider and understand together. A quick glance at the trees is not good enough to see the work of God through mankind.

Killing Time? The Evolution of Hobbies

As I have continued reading Lonnie Aarssen’s book, What We Are, I ran across another interesting idea. He claims, and is probably correct, that human evolutionary psychology has been strongly influenced by the awareness that we are going to die. Many aspects of our cultures result from our responses to the certainty of our deaths.

One category of response is to create something that outlives us. Most of the estimated 90 billion people who have ever lived have not left any trace, other than perhaps a name on a record somewhere, that they ever existed. It doesn’t take many generations for this to happen. My great-grandfather exists now, as far as I am aware, of two photos from about 1890, a grave, and some DNA in his descendants.

 

But people who have had more money and power than did my great grandfather can do a lot more to create an enduring legacy. Rockefeller and Carnegie had endowments that are still giving awards to people. Simon Bolívar has a country named after him. These legacies create the false impression, while we are alive, that we will not die, and after we die, that we are still alive. In the Becky Hobbs/Nick Sweet musical Nanyehi, devoted to our ancestor Nancy Ward, the great Cherokee leader, the Nancy Ward character says, when you see the white swan’s wing, know that I am still alive. Of course, she isn’t, and there is remarkably little of her personal effects that can still be found (she died about 1822). But Rockefeller, Carnegie, Bolívar, and Nanyehi are still having an impact on the world.

Sir Francis Bacon noted that childless men put more into their legacies (he was thinking of creativity and intellect) than do men with big families precisely because they have no physical posterity. Wikipedia lists no children for Bacon. I have one child and two grandchildren, but this is below the world average.

The main motivation I feel in creating a legacy of writing is that I do not feel that I should hoard for myself the insights I have encountered in life. I want to share them.

Another category of response is to lose ourselves in hobbies. This allows us to ignore the fact that we will die. My Dad, for example, recorded country music on hundreds of reel-to-reel tapes, and spent countless hours documenting and organizing them. They have almost all disintegrated. I have his tape of country songs sung by our next door neighbor’s brother, Truitt. Are these hobbies just a way of killing time?

That is clearly one purpose of a hobby. But some of us try to turn our hobbies into legacies. I have thousands of photographs. They would be depressing if they were just a pile of pictures. But since 2007 all are digital, and I scanned the others. I labeled each photo with a descriptive name, and the year, so that the next generation of my family will know what each one was. Just in case they ever look at them. Of course, my daughter and family are in my photos also. You can see about a thousand of these photos (mostly of natural areas, not of me and my family) at my newly refurbished author website.

One of the best ways to create a unique legacy is to write a book. Major commercial publishers have published six of my books; I plan one more; all about popular science and history. I have also written articles, which are on various databases. My website is me, in the future. The books that I know I cannot publish through increasingly unstable commercial publishers will be, or so I plan, on Amazon. My tech-savvy son-in-law can probably find a few minutes a year to maintain my digital presence long after my passing. The essays on this blog, starting about 2008, will be available perhaps as long as the internet exists.

And that is pretty much what I do these days. I have no hobbies that are just for killing time. Time is precious, and I want to use it—all of it—to make the world better. This includes activities that maintain health and vigor, since I do not want all of my work to collapse if I have a stroke or something. And to keep me happy, since I do my best work as a writer and a grandfather by being happy. I hope to put a reasonable finish to my work and then, one day, I just won’t wake up.

Of course, my main legacy (both biological and cultural, even spiritual) will be my family, which so far is resisting extinction, and consists entirely of good people. World, you will be glad we were here.

Platonic Friendships

I read a book, What We Are, by Lonnie Aarssen. Aarssen is a Canadian plant ecologist, roughly contemporaneous with me. He has made the transition from plant ecologist to evolutionary psychologist—that is, studying the effects of our human evolutionary history on the way our brains work. I have made the transition from plant ecologist to a general science writer, so I know about evolutionary psychology, but do not know as much as Aarssen.

I’m not sure platonic friendship can be defined, but most of us have a general understanding of it. Aarssen makes the assertion that it is very difficult for men and women to form platonic relationships. Why? Rather than attempting a detailed summary of his reasons, I will just say that it is because men are jerks. They want to conquer women, not befriend them. That sort of captures the meaning.

I immediately recognized that this is not true of me. As I think over my life, I have had lots of platonic relationships with women. I recently made a list of people—men and women; all ages; most of them still alive—who have been important in my life, just so I could remember them. The list had 111 names, and the list keeps growing. Of these, 55 are women of a reasonably similar age with myself and with whom I had a close friendship, and with none of which I had sex. What is wrong with me?

In many cases, it would have been professionally unethical—for example, students and colleagues. But in at least 30 cases, there was no such difficulty (they were single and not, at least at the time, my students). So, I ask again, what is wrong with me?

What is wrong with me is love. In earlier decades, it was religious conviction. Later, it was that I did not want to endanger or stress my marriage. Neither of these is known, on a societal level, as a reason why a man does not have sex. But I loved all of these women, and did not want to mess up the trust they were placing in my friendship. I know for a fact that at least a few of them would have welcomed sexual intimacy from me. But a life is something you build, and as I look back on mine, I am satisfied with the choices I have made.

I knew that I was unusual, but I did not realize how unusual.

European Forests Also Need Control Burns

…but are not getting them. European forests have grown up in thick stands of saplings, just like most American forests. In North America, the Natives kept the forest undergrowth cleared away, which benefited agriculture and hunting, by the controlled use of fire, as I explain in chapter 2 of my recent book Forgotten Landscapes. When European diseases and conquest killed off ninety percent of Native populations in America, the forests shifted from bountiful productivity to being “a forest of sticks” choked by undergrowth.  Native fires were an essential part of what a “natural” forest should be like in North America.

It appears to me that the same is true in Europe. It is likely that the tribal peoples of Europe, before (and after?) Roman conquest, burned their forests just as Native Americans did theirs. The forest preserves we see in America, and in Europe, today are not “natural” but have resulted from fire suppression in recent centuries. This would be true even of the last “virgin forest” in Europe,  Białowieża in Poland.

I explored one of the last fragments of pre-industrial Rhineland forest in France earlier this summer. It is (what passes in Europe for) an extensive forest southeast of Strasbourg. I hiked around on just a portion of its extensive system of trails. Beech trees (Fagus sylvatica) dominated the canopy and its seedlings were abundant on the forest floor. Maples (Acer pseudoplatanus) dominated the forest floor and had some canopy trees, along with two species of linden (Tilia cordata and T. platyphyllos). There were a lot of shrubs, especially the field maple (Acer campestre), dogwood (Cornus mas), hazelnut (Corylus avellana), and hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna).

This forest had been undisturbed for a long time—the beeches were large and tall. But it was not that long ago, perhaps a century and a half, when the forest had been cut down. In a desperate but successful attempt to control the resulting soil erosion, the French government planted conifers (in the lowlands, Norway spruce, and on the hillsides Douglas fir from America) which persist in a few places, remnants of once successful forestry but now ceding their dominance to hardwoods.

It was a peaceful and wonderful place to hike. But it was not natural. In my book I wrote about Native inhabitants being an essential part of the “natural” landscape in America. And it appears that the same is true in Europe. I suspect this is a general pattern. Sam Goldwyn is said to have quipped that wilderness is “where the hand of man has never set foot.” But I think this may not be true not only in America but anywhere else. Humans have always been, ever since we mastered fire, an important factor in the operation of entire landscapes all over the world.

The only alternative to small, frequent fires is large, perhaps equally frequent fires. This is what is happening in America, where the lack of control burns has allowed huge forest fires to get started especially in the west. But the same is true where I now live in France. With increasing frequency, the forests of southern France burn in the hot, dry summers. With global climate change, the forests where I now live in northern France will also burn more frequently. The problem will take care of itself, though not in a way we would like.