RTFA

24 May

CABookA week or so ago I was having brunch with a couple friends and we were talking about David Mitchell’s novel Cloud Atlas, which I’d just finished reading and had very much enjoyed.

I asked my co-brunchers what they thought of the book and one of them, a Mr. Tom Bissell, did this Bissellian thing he sometimes does and said, “I had some issues with it, I actually wrote the New York Times review.” Which is like, well, congratulations on having the winning opinion of Cloud Atlas.

It did strike me as funny that he’d written that particular review, since just a few days prior I had been joking about the outrageously lofty praise found on the book’s jacket. I’d even mentioned it in a post on this very blog. I remembered the pullquote from the NYT review in particular, partly because it’s prominantly featured at the top of the paperback edition’s back cover (see photo) but mostly because it’s awfully laudatory:

“[David] Mitchell is, clearly, a genius. He writes as though at the helm of some perpetual dream machine, can evidently do anything, and his ambition is written in magma across this novel’s every page.”

At brunch, Tom was quick to point out that he wasn’t nearly so effusive in the rest of his review. When I got home, I read the full review, and of course it’s this very smart, thorough take on the book. And indeed, it’s far from a rave. Tom acknowledges the things Mitchell does well, but for the most part looks askance at Cloud Atlas, straddling as it does the line between triumph of human storytelling and android feat of literary engineering.

I mean, check out the sentence immediately following the book-jacket pullquote:

“But ”Cloud Atlas’ is the sort of book that makes ambition seem slightly suspect.”

So the full paragraph containing the excerpt is as follows:

“It is a devious writer indeed who writes in such a way that the critic who finds himself unresponsive to the writer’s vision feels like a philistine. So let it be said that Mitchell is, clearly, a genius. He writes as though at the helm of some perpetual dream machine, can evidently do anything, and his ambition is written in magma across this novel’s every page. But ”Cloud Atlas” is the sort of book that makes ambition seem slightly suspect.”

Tom then goes on to note, “The novel is frustrating not because it is too smart but because it is not nearly as smart as its author.” I guess that bit isn’t making it onto book jackets anytime soon. It’s a good review, go read it.

Sometimes game publishers will contact me about reviews I’ve written for Kotaku, asking permission to use pullquotes on their marketing materials or game boxes. It’s something my boss and I figure out on a case-by-case basis, though for the most part promotional quotes, even truncated ones, are fine by me. They quoted me in this Journey trailer once, calling the game, “A triumph… astonishing.” Cool by me, given that what I actually wrote, excerpted from my review, was even more over-the-top than that:

ThatGameCompany’s creation is a triumph, a video game that is as remarkable for its discipline as it is for the effortless manner in which it welds its vast reserves of breathtaking beauty.

(Jeez, Kirk. Slow down, have a cigarette.)

I think I’m on the box for Far Cry 3, or maybe just in a trailer? It was something like, “Gorgeous… immersive.” Okay, sure. I liked that game, too.

That said, I’ve never had a quote appear where, in the full text of the review, the very next sentence qualified the quoted praise. And there have certainly been times when I’ve turned down quote requests because they didn’t reflect the spirit of what I wrote.

But I’m not really criticizing Cloud Atlas‘s publisher or the NYT, and I have no idea how this sort of thing is hashed out in the literary world. I don’t even think that using that particular quote out of context is all that misleading. As far as I’m concerned, David Mitchell is clearly a genius, and if someone in a bookstore wants to read a book written by someone who’s clearly a genius, Cloud Atlas will do the trick.

But it was a good reminder that it’s important to, well, read the fucking article. Pullquotes are selected  to help sell stuff. Well-executed criticism usually contains artful ideas both celebratory and critical, whether they’re written in magma or in plain ol’ Times New Roman. Embrace the phrase, not the paraphrase. RTFA.

Things I Read And Watched While On Vacation

6 May

ImageLast week, I took a vacation from the internet. And from work! Which kind of IS “The Internet,” as far as I’m concerned. Where do you work, Kirk? I work at The Internet.

So, I took a week and unplugged from the internet entirely. Kind of like This Guy, who got paid to do the same thing over at The Verge, only he did it a whole year, and it sounds like it was a lot more intense than my week. I walked away from Twitter and Facebook, put up a fairly draconian-sounding gmail out-of-office message, and I was  good to go.

I focused on writing music and read a lot. I didn’t play any video games. It was a successful experiment; I wrote a lot of music and got a lot of reading done. (Remember reading? Reading is amazing. It’s like a party in your brain.) I also cheated and let myself watch some movies, particularly toward the end of the week when I had gotten a lot done and was feeling pretty good about everything. I’d pretty much just plug into the internet, watch the movie, and unplug. Breaking the rules? Sure. But hey, sometimes you want to watch a movie.

I thought I’d write a short post about the stuff I watched and the stuff I read, since a lot of it’s old and even a creative “how is this like video games”-er like myself can’t come up with a way to post all of this stuff on Kotaku.

Here goes:

THINGS I READ

His Dark Materials: A series that I had been stalled out on despite really liking the first two books. I finally went back and restarted the third book, The Amber Spyglass, and read it proper. Damnation, this is some good stuff. Philip Pullman is a hell of a storyteller, and Lyra’s world is the sort of fantasy that I just LOVE. It actually feels fantastical! There are so few tropes here, just genuine unbridled imagination. And my gosh, the scope of the storytelling here! How many kids’ (or teens’?) stories concern themselves with a WAR ON GOD and like, THE DESTRUCTION OF THE ARCHANGEL and THE RETURN OF SIN TO SAVE THE WORLD? No wonder this shit was controversial. I loved each book, and was gutted to have to say goodbye. If you haven’t read these books, I can’t recommend them enough. I’ve never seen the movie, and I never will. Fuck the movie.

Cloud Atlas: I’m about halfway through David Mitchell’s book and… erm, wow, it sure is as good as everyone said. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and it’s the kind of book where you can be like 200 pages in and still be thinking “I’m not really sure what to expect” and then you kind of round a bend and it all starts to slot into place and you think “oh, wow, holy fuck, this guy is kind of a genius!” Not that I’d even mind if it didn’t all come together – Mitchell’s writing is so damned inventive and joyful that I’d read a bunch of wholly unrelated stories, as long as he was writing them. His work reminds me how prosaic 98% of my writing is, and makes me want to be better. I’m not sure about the movie. Should I see it? I think I might watch it once I finish.

Oh, funny thing I noticed about Cloud Atlas comes via the “In praise of Cloud Atlas” bit at the front, where they quote book reviewers as they hyperventilate and work themselves into a tizzy over just how fucking brilliant this book is. I mean, check this shit out, from The Times of London:

“A cornucopia, an elegiac, radiant festival of prescience, meditation, and entertainment. Open up Mitchell’s head and a whole ecstatic symphony of inventiveness and ideas will fly out as if from a benign and felicitous pandora’s box.” 

And people give video game reviewers shit about gilding the lily!

THINGS I DIDN’T READ

Reviews of anything, after finishing. Which was nice! I didn’t go read recaps after watching Game of Thrones, I didn’t read book reviews after finishing Amber Spyglass. I didn’t read any movie reviews. I was surprised at how immediate my impulse to go and read critical discourse after finishing something has become. It was pretty cool to take a week and sort of stew in my own juices a bit, and think about what I really thought of each thing before reading the opinions of others.

Anyway. Moving right along…

THINGS I WATCHED

13 Assassins: Dude, I can’t believe I hadn’t watched this movie yet. Hoo buddy, is it good. Takashi Miike is the man, I’ve seen such an embarrassingly tiny sliver of the man’s oeuvre but I’m consistently impressed by what I see. And how great is Kôji Yakusho? This movie is  grand, and I loved it.

Jiro Dreams of Sushi: This movie made me A) want to eat sushi and B) glad I’m not the son of this guy, and that I don’t run a sushi restaurant in Tokyo. A fascinating documentary, and almost entirely different than I was expecting it to be. I wound up getting sushi like a day after watching this, and I bet it wasn’t as good as Jiro’s sushi. But it was still pretty good.

Hugo: A surprisingly good flick. It was almost entirely off my radar, but I decided to watch it because as you may have gathered from my list here, I was going through good movies on Netflix Instant and watching them. It’s a good movie, though kind of a strange one – disjointed, in that it’s this whimsical kids’ film in the first half and a big-hearted tribute to the French pioneers of cinema in the second. I’m not sure kids would like it? But I did. An odd film, but an enjoyable one.

Rango: Hey, another surprise. Who knew that this movie, which by all appearances was a dumb cash-in flick that leaned on Johnny Depp too much, would in fact be a surprisingly soulful, enjoyably weird movie that leaned on Johnny Depp the exact right amount? Not I. Also, it’s basically Chinatown? I’m not really sure who this movie is for, as I can’t imagine most kids getting a good percentage of the jokes, but I sure enjoyed it. And Hans Zimmer did the music, and I… I really liked it! A wonderful soundtrack that was just good music, and didn’t feel like a feat of engineering. The scene when Rango walks across the highway… outstanding. Who would thought that my favorite Hans Zimmer soundtrack in forever would be an Enrico Morricone tribute?

Limitless: I think I was just super bored one night and this was sitting on Netflix so I fired it up. This movie is fucking stupid. I watched it up until he began to have weird side-effects from the mind-rewiring experimental drug, and decided that I didn’t really need to watch the Fall From Glory and the Eventual Redemption or whatever. It felt like watching a music video made into a movie, and it had really bad music. It felt like the guy who made it came up with that camera trick where it zooms over block after block of NYC and was like, “Okay, this is dope, how can I make a movie around this?” It felt like a sad fantasy movie for dudes who have super sad fantasies. It felt like… I don’t know, I don’t even care about coming up with more things it felt like.

Avatar: I re-watched Avatar for the first time since I watched it in IMAX 3D back when it came out. Well. The movie has certainly lost a lot in the transition from theaters to Blu-Ray. I’m not sure if that says more for just how well-suited it was to its original 3D presentation or how lackluster the movie itself is (both!) but there it is. Its many flaws are laid bare on the small screen, in particular the writing. (Could they not just hire someone to make the script better? I don’t even mean the story, I just mean the basic sentence by sentence dialogue. Christ, is it bad.) But it’s still got that enjoyable energy to it, and God help me, I like James Horner’s musical score, if you can call four dramatic chords a score.

How To Train Your Dragon: Hey, this movie is fucking great! I have a now-famous soft spot for Tangled, and How to Train Your Dragon was almost as good. Well, okay, let’s not get carried away, it was about 75% as good as Tangled, and there wasn’t any singing, but I still really liked it.

Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol: I think I had already seen this, but I didn’t really remember it. Maybe I was stoned when I watched it the first time? Anyway. It was a lot of fun! I was impressed by how funny Jeremy Renner can be, dude is great. Brad Bird is such a creative director, though I do think that I missed some of the human drama that (weirdly?) made its way into past entries, especially JJ Abrams’ hilariously, wonderfully melodramatic “Alias on Crack” take in M:I 3. I bet this movie was fucking awesome in IMAX 3D, which is an annoying thing to think about a movie that’s no longer in IMAX 3D, but there you go. I was legitimately a bit breathless when Tom Cruise was running along the side of that incredible skyscraper. Most impressively, like 80-85% of the time I was totally distracted from the inexorable gravitational pull of Tom Cruise’s assy onscreen presence. I know I’ve written about how I like Michael Giacchino’s music before, but actually, I think my opinion has changed. Maybe I don’t really like Michael Giacchino’s music all that much anymore. I didn’t care for the music in this movie, anyway.

Silver Linings Playbook: Man, what a strange movie. I did not care for it. It was a mess, right? Half the time it was this painful and honest-feeling movie about the difficulty of living with mental illness. The other half, it was this clichéd romcom that was, more or less, Garden State but with more severe disorders and a more grown-up cast. It just didn’t feel cohesive at all, and the entire finale felt like it was the result of multiple rewrites. What happened in the end there, why did both of them get so much better? Was he on meds? Was she? How were they so healthy and well-adjusted? I didn’t get it. I’m almost shocked that this movie was Oscar bait. Don’t get me wrong, I really like Jennifer Lawrence and whatever, but it just seemed like an odd movie to lavish with so many nominations.

As I mentioned earlier, I didn’t read any criticism after finishing movies last week, but yesterday I found that amiga Sarah Bunting of Tomato Nation totally nailed it:

A few scenes start to open a window into what that’s like to live with, to have responsibility for, for parents and significant others; when Officer Keogh (Dash Mihok) answers the call during Pat’s freak-out, for instance, the script has managed to stop playing Pat’s obvious manic distress for laughs and let the spinning build to a scarier place. Soon enough, though, it’s back to the very important lesson about how we’re all crazy via Dad’s (Robert De Niro) OCD, ha ha…ha. It’s not necessary to treat the vagaries of Pat’s disease with funereal seriousness, but this is a guy whose untreated illness smashed his life to chips and dust. His decision to stalk his ex-wife via her syllabus may not qualify for the Kooky Kuts-R-Us editing treatment.

The Back Half of Boardwalk Empire, Season 3: I have a complicated relationship with Boardwalk Empire, or I guess it’s not complicated, it’s just that I get so fucking bored by the show that I stop watching. Until last week, I’d stopped watching the show precisely one more time than I’d decided to give it another shot. But watching the final 8 episodes of season 3 back-to-back proved an immensely good idea. Not only does the season go out with a cracking handful of episodes, there’s a terrific degree of continuity to the whole season. It helped to see everything right in a row, and I could really grok how well it all tied together. Also, they seem to have figured out that when it comes right down to it, all any of us really wanted was for Roger the half-masked Angel of Death to become a major character. And now I hear that George Pelecanos and Dennis Lehane (of The Wirewill be joining the writing staff for Season 4? Damn. I have now given this show another shot precisely one more time than I’ve given up on it. I’m in, for now. (Though I swear to God George Pelecanos if you kill off Roger, I will never forgive you. You killed half the cast of The Wire and that groovy dude on Treme, please let your thirst for beloved characters be sated.)

Toy Story 3: I had so little memory of this movie, though I’m about 90% sure that I watched it already. It’s good, and really intensely sad at times, in that it’s articulating a sadness that films almost never go after – the way the world looks different to us after we grow up. But something about the film’s main prison break a-plot just kind of didn’t quite land for me. Still a good movie, but it felt at times like it was less inspired than its two predecessors. I think maybe it was a problem with Lotso, the villainous bear. They didn’t quite know what to do with him – his story was a retread of whatsername the cowgirl’s story from Toy Story 2, but with 100% less Sarah McLachlan making me cry all over the place. Still, good movie.

The King’s Speech: Okay so I watched this a little bit before my vacation but it was excellent and I loved it, so. What a film! I love movies about grown men discovering friendship. That’s such a rare thing in real life, and it’s so hopeful to see it happen, particularly when it’s a true story like this. I liked this bit from Ebert’s review:

Director Tom Hooper makes an interesting decision with his sets and visuals. The movie is largely shot in interiors, and most of those spaces are long and narrow. That’s unusual in historical dramas, which emphasize sweep and majesty and so on. Here we have long corridors, a deep and narrow master control room for the BBC, rooms that seem peculiarly oblong. I suspect he may be evoking the narrow, constricting walls of Albert’s throat as he struggles to get words out.

See, that kind of shit is why I like reading good film critics. I certainly didn’t notice that, even though it had a noticeable effect on me the entire time I was watching the film. He really will be missed.

Hemlock Grove: I tried to watch some more Hemlock Grove but man, this show is just pretty fucking bad. I initially said that I’d keep watching it to the end of the season, but it’s wandered to the point were I just Literally Could Not Give Less Of A Shit and don’t want to watch these mopey assholes wander around and smoke cigarettes and have nothing happen. It’s a laughable show, really. On Twitter one time (good story bro) I was like “This show feels like each line was written by a different person, like, they hired thousands of writers to write it.” And that’s about how it feels. Plus the characters are all assholes and it’s so over-filtered and fug. I might be out.

***

Hmm, that’s kind of a bum note to go out on. It was a great week, though, really! I’ll have some music to share here at some point, once I get the demos into shape, but I’m really happy with how it’s all coming along. I’ve finally taught myself to use Logic after a decade on Pro Tools, and I must say, the program is wonderful, and a much better fit for the way I write than Pro Tools ever was. I’ll probably write something about that when I have more time.

I hope you all had a good week, as well. And hey, you don’t have to go a whole year, but if you’re ever able, I recommend unplugging from the internet, even if only for a weekend or something. It’s a good exercise, and your Twitter followers will still be there for you when you get back.

Talking About Video Games

30 Mar

MeAndSessA few weeks ago, I went on Revision3′s show DownLOADED to talk about the state of video games. In addition to host Jim Louderback, I was joined by well-known video game pundit Adam Sessler. As “people who talk about video games on camera” go, Sessler’s a big deal–he was a host on G4TV for a long time before heading over to Rev3 to take over their games coverage.

It was a real pleasure to talk with Adam; as you’ll see from the video (if you’re unfamiliar with his work), he brings a rare combination of directness, knowledge, and energy to everything he talks about. For more on Adam and his career, check out this fantastic profile my colleague Jason Schreier recently wrote over at Kotaku.

I think we managed to cover a lot of interesting angles on the current state of video games. It should provide a good snapshot, here at the start of a year that’s bound to bring many, many more changes. Thanks to Jim and Adam for having me, and for being so much fun to talk with.

Holding On To San Francisco

6 Feb

SanFranI’ve lived in San Francisco for coming up on ten years, which sounds kind of intense when I say it out loud. Ten years! That’s a while. That’s long enough to think of a city as home. I’m not sure I really do, but it seems long enough, is what I’m saying.

Sometimes when I’m in a cab, or meeting someone at a party or something, I’ll say, “I’ve lived here for ten years.” It feels kind of cool, like I’m one of those grizzled old-timers that I most certainly am not. Truth is, I love this city, but I still feel like a newcomer. I spent eight years as a musician and a teacher, working at a school in the Haight and running every day in Golden Gate Park, so I guess that part of San Francisco does feel like home. I’ve spent two more years since then as a writer, working too much and spending too much time indoors and exercising less often than I probably should. That part of San Francisco also feels like home, though perhaps a less pleasant (but more profitable) one.

Ten years is a long time, whether it feels like it or not.

***

People are always carrying on about how San Francisco has changed, and of course, this is the wont of people who live in cities, to talk about how their cities have changed. The New Yorker recently published this very funny series by Simon Rich in which he imagines an early 20th century New York immigrant named Herschel falling into pickle brine and awakening, perfectly preserved, in 2013 Brooklyn.

Herschel meets his great-great-grandson, who happens to be named Simon. Simon is a Brooklynite screenwriter who embodies pretty much every cliché about the peculiar sort of aimless leisure enjoyed by the possibly mythical Post-Hipster Brooklyn Creative Professional.

“Please,” I say. “I must know. What path have you chosen for your life?”

Simon smiles proudly at me.

“I’m a script doctor,” he says.

I shake my head with astonishment.

“That is so wonderful,” I say, my eyes filling up with tears. “I am so proud. I cannot believe my descendant is medical doctor.”

Simon averts his eyes.

“It’s actually just a screenwriting term,” he says. “ ‘Script doctor’ means I, like, punch up movie scripts.”

I stare at him blankly.

“ ‘Punch up’?”

“You know, like, add gags.”

“What sort of gags?”

He clears his throat.

“Let’s see.… Well, the script I’m working on now is about a guy who switches bodies with his pet dog? So I’m adding all these puns, like ‘I’m doggone mad!’ and ‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you!’ You know, things like that.”

A long time passes in silence.

“So you are not medical doctor.”

“No,” Simon admits. “I am not.”

In its opening moments, Birch’s piece hinges on a single joke: That if a man who arrived in New York city in 1912 saw it today, he’d be unable to cope with what it’s become. By taking a fish-out-of-water approach, Birch casts the life of a New York creative professional under a pitiless lens. (Of course, this is later turned on its head when the narrator’s very out-of-touchness eventually helps him become a hip, sought-after pickle vendor.)

While that makes for good comedy (“Are you a cilantro person?” the great-great-granson asks his perplexed ancestor), the crux of the piece–that the past was so different from our time that the only similarities are comical–is quite different from another recent article about urban change and upheaval.

***

Author Rebecca Solnit has written a well-observed and flatly depressing essay at The London Review of Books about the state of San Francisco in The Era of the Google Bus.

They make for a fine metaphor, those busses: Sleek, high-tech vessels that transport city-dwellers down to their tech-company campuses in Silicon Valley. It’s a harsh encapsulation of the transformation that San Francisco has undergone during the last five or so years, and of the parasite-like feeling of invasion and otherness that those companies can inspire.

Here’s Solnit:

The Google Bus means so many things. It means that the minions of the non-petroleum company most bent on world domination can live in San Francisco but work in Silicon Valley without going through a hair-raising commute by car – I overheard someone note recently that the buses shortened her daily commute to 3.5 hours from 4.5. It means that unlike gigantic employers in other times and places, the corporations of Silicon Valley aren’t much interested in improving public transport, and in fact the many corporations providing private transport are undermining the financial basis for the commuter train. It means that San Francisco, capital of the west from the Gold Rush to some point in the 20th century when Los Angeles overshadowed it, is now a bedroom community for the tech capital of the world at the other end of the peninsula.

The influx of what some friends of mine have come to call “app-money” has changed the city, to be sure. But while this phenomenon feels entirely current, Solnit also argues that these sorts of boom-time troubles are nothing new to San Francisco, and may even be an ingrained part of the city’s culture.

She quotes The Annals of San Francisco, which recalls the city in 1849 and the challenges posed by the California gold rush:

As we have said, there were no homes at this period in San Francisco, and time was too precious for anyone to stay within doors to cook victuals. Consequently an immense majority of the people took their meals at restaurants, boarding-houses and hotels – the number of which was naturally therefore very great; while many lodged as well as boarded at such places. Many of these were indeed miserable hovels, which showed only bad fare and worse attendance, dirt, discomfort and high prices. A few others again were of a superior class; but, of course, still higher charges had to be made for the better accommodation.

Sounds familiar. And okay, the gold rush has its share of differences from the current tech-boom (Solnit acknowledges this), but the similarities remain remarkable.

***

The San Francisco apartment-hunt woes reported by so many are in fact accurate, for what it’s worth. I’ve been searching for my own place off and on for the last four or five months, and the scene is grim. I began with my sights set possibly on the Haight or north of the Panhandle, only to gradually pull my scope back to include the Inner Sunset (where I currently live) until recently acquiescing to the notion that I’ll probably only find an affordable park-adjacent place closer to, or possibly in, the Pacific Ocean.

(And let’s not kid ourselves about “affordable” here–we’re talking about a decent, non-in-law apartment with working heat, a living room and hardwood floors, and we’re talking about $1,700 to $1,800 a month not counting utilities. A similar apartment in the Mission would cost a thousand dollars more.)

***

I was recently out at a bar in the Mission with some friends, both of whom work in video game development. It was a new bar, one of the ones cropping up in the large buildings east of South Van Ness, where they have a kitchen and good beer and lots of space to make up for the fact that you always worry a little bit about getting murdered while you’re walking there. The bar was crowded, and there appeared to be some sort of event going on. Young people wearing name-tags were tipsy and schmoozing, many of them milling around our table. I had several butts right up in my periphery. It was as though we’d stumbled into the middle of someone else’s two-year college reunion.

There was a dearth of available seating in the bar. We were guarding our spare chair with our jackets, which is about as territorial as you can get these days without actually sitting on two chairs at once. But lo, a fairly drunk young woman sauntered up and plopped down in our spare seat, assuring us that she just needed a place to sit for a moment while her cohort found her a chair. She gamely struck up a conversation.

“What do you guys all do?”

“I make video games,” said one of my friends. “You?”

“We make apps.”

Her friends signaled to her: They’d procured her a seat. She left us for, I have to presume, greener pastures.

So, you know. This sort of anecdote is one of those “perfect” stories that reduces a complicated social and economic phenomenon to a single sound byte:

“We make apps.”

It’s the bar-conversation equivalent of Solnit’s Google bus.

***

But yes, but yes; it’s a lot more complicated than that. Maybe some of those apps are amazing, maybe they help children learn or help the disenfranchised find enfranchisement. Maybe they help people in hospitals get better care, or help new parents monitor their baby’s health. And it’s not like video games are usually some high-minded artistic pursuit. It’s a lot more complicated than that.

When I tweeted Solnit’s article yesterday, I got a few responses from people ragging on “tech douchebags” who had invaded San Francisco. Those fuckers. Those douchebags. They make apps. Fuck them.

But of course, many of those douchebags are totally nice people; I’m friends with a lot of them. They’re not actually invaders from outer space or Utah or wherever. A lot of them have lived in this city longer than I have. Plenty of them grew up here, or in the Bay Area.

I put Solnit’s article on Facebook and my friend Jess, who takes a shuttle every day to one of the tech-boomiest companies around, left the following comment:

If you’re one of those shuttlers who grew up in the bay and deserves to live in San Francisco just as much as the next person, it comes off like she’s shaking her cane in your face and telling you to get the fuck out of *her* city. I get that its me taking it personally, but in the end it’s ABOUT me so I can’t help it. I lived here well before I obtained my South Bay shuttled job and it sucks to read people blaming those of us working there but living in SF for woes that could be blamed on 15 different factors if you research and investigate properly.

I certainly understand where Jess is coming from; if you work in the tech industry, I can imagine it’d be more or less impossible not to take Solnit’s article personally. If you make apps, it sucks to see someone categorically lambast all app-makers. (I do think Solnit’s article was more nuanced than that.)

Jess also shared this Business Insider article by Owen Thomas, entitled “San Francisco Needs To Stop Apologizing For Being The Best City On The Planet.” It’s written partly as a response to Solnit and partly as a plea for San Francisco to change their zoning laws and “stop allowing companies to give employees free parking at work, and stop requiring parking in housing developments in San Francisco.”

Here’s Thomas:

Yes, San Francisco is getting expensive, and more so all the time.

But really—we’re going to blame Google’s buses for the city’s housing crisis?

That’s what writer Rebecca Solnit argues in an utterly ridiculous screed in the London Review of Books that pretends to be about the crisis of capitalism in San Francisco but turns out to be a handwringing diatribe about her search for a home to buy.

The reason why house prices in San Francisco are going up is because the supply is limited and the demand is insatiable.

The supply is limited because of archaic zoning rules and cultural attitudes toward growth.

Thomas’ article is a remarkably bloodless counterpoint to Solnit’s artful melancholy; he’s clinical where she’s emotional, practical where she’s nostalgic. I suppose that’s due at least in part to the different editorial parameters of Business Insider and The London Review of Books.

But yeah, sure: Solnit seems more interested in eloquently describing a problem than she is in offering solutions. Thomas is more interested in offering actionable advice than he is in figuring out what this means for the city’s soul.

***

While I did find that Solnit’s article resonated with me more than Thomas’, I have to admit my own personal stake in the whole thing is murky at best. I came to San Francisco fresh out of music school, excited to spend a few years here gigging and practicing before moving to New York. I eventually fell into teaching (and fell in love with my life here), and I spent seven or eight years playing jazz and teaching music at a private school in SF.

I’d love it if that meant those years were some ideal embodiment of the long-lost artistic side of San Francisco, but whatever, that’s not true. I taught at an insanely expensive private school, working with the children of tech millionaires whose very companies were driving the boom that would eventually make it so difficult for me to continue living here. They were paying my rent, even as their companies were indirectly increasing it.

Working as a musician in the city felt much the same–sure, it’s great to pack clubs and make money through ticket sales, but the very techies that are driving gentrification in the mission and indirectly getting rent-controlled musicians evicted are the young people in the audience, paying $8 for drinks and dancing the night away. It’s difficult to make a living as a musician in San Francisco without feeling at least somewhat sponsored–the $75 dive-bar gig I played may have been a fantastic musical experience, but it was the Oracle party later that week that paid $500 per man. It was Oracle that paid my rent, even as they were indirectly increasing it.

Now that I write for a living, I still feel like I’m in an odd in-between state. I spend pretty much every day being curious and being critical and making jokes and telling stories. But of course, one of the primary things I write about is video games, so I spend a lot of time doing what amounts to tech journalism. And beyond that, the very company I work for, Gawker Media, is at least partly transitioning into being a tech company. My overlords may be based in New York and not Silicon Valley, but if you go into a café in the Inner Sunset and see a dozen bespectacled white and/or asian people banging away on Macbooks, there’s a fair chance I’m one of them.

But then, a journalist isn’t one with his subject-matter, and it’s no different for me. I love video games, but I’m not a member of the video game industry. I’m fascinated by technology, but I’d never say I “work in tech.” I’m just a musician who landed a cool writing gig. I sometimes admire and sometimes resent Silicon Valley, but I’ll likely never be a part of it. If this whole thing falls apart, I’ll probably go back to playing and teaching music.

***

As you may have gathered if you’ve made it this far, I’m ambivalent about all this. I can’t claim expertise in economics, or culture, or history, or even in San Francisco, despite that much-ballyhooed decade of mine. I have lots of friends who work in tech. I don’t like gentrification in theory, but I also don’t like that the Mission feels unsafe. And I’m leaving out a ton of stuff about this city’s fraught relationship with race.

All I know is that I love living here, and I’ve been privileged to be able to. And I mean, I have had some fairly iconic San Francisco Moments in those ten years. I played “Where the Boys Are” with Connie Francis to a sold-out crowd at the Castro theater. I took a group of high school kids backpacking in Yosemite and spent the entire time talking about Star Wars. I performed at the Bay to Breakers post-race shindig in Golden Gate Park, and was featured on their poster all over town the year after. Once Joan Rivers berated me on stage at the Herbst and another time I played flute while Petula Clark played finger-cymbals and danced. I got ordained and performed my sister’s wedding in a meadow overlooking the Bay. I got stoned with my best friend and sat on the bench atop Grand View Park. Those are all pretty San Francisco things to do, I think.

It’s gotten more difficult to keep it all going in recent years. It’s gotten harder to live here. But I know that I plan to stay, at least for a little while, and that while I find myself envious of those whose six-figure salaries make living in this city (or indeed, any city) a foregone conclusion, I’m also okay not being one of them.

I wish San Francisco could live up to its funky, romantic, Tales of the City image more often. Solnit’s version, the “city that poets can’t afford,” is the one we’ve got at the moment. I’ll likely feel forever stuck between those two San Franciscos: One that might never have existed, and one that does, but of which I’ll never quite be a part.

For now, I think I’ll keep looking for a decent apartment. Something near the park. And I’ll remain a San Francisco barnacle, holding on to this beautiful leviathan for dear life and enjoying the view while I can.

GGBridge

National, Public

19 Jan

NPRLast week I had a chance to hop on the phone with NPR’s Neda Ulaby to talk to her for a feature she was doing about cultural references. We had a nice long chat about everything from the Dreamcast to the N-Gage, and lots of stuff about the stratification of culture and the ways that gatekeepers of geek culture can still be a bit touchy about whom they let in.

Of course, this being a single NPR segment, only one part of that made it into the finished story. But hey, it was still cool to contribute. The segment aired yesterday on Morning Edition; you can listen to and/or read a transcript of the whole thing on the Morning Edition site.

Do It Live

13 Jan

DoItLiveLast night, I had the privilege of performing a reading as part of the venerable Writers with Drinks spoken word/variety show. The event is put on by fellow Gawker-er Charlie Jane Anders (io9), and takes place monthly at the Makeout Room in the Mission. WWD has been going on for more than a decade, and I, because I am a huge loser, have never been. After last night, I’ll probably never miss another one as long as live in San Francisco. It was a BLAST.

The setup is more or less this: Each month, four or five writers go up to the mic and read their stuff for about 10-15 minutes each. It can be a chapter from a book, or a few poems, or some spoken word thing, or a comedy routine, or an essay or article. When Charlie Jane asked me to participate early last week, my first thought was, “Okay!” My second thought was, “What the fuck am I going to read?”

For a while I considered throwing together some new thing, something about teaching, or music, or life in the city… the hidden message behind those ideas being, Christ, anything but video games. Then, my daily schedule being what it is, it became clear that I wasn’t going to have time to write 10 or 15 minutes’ worth of new material by Saturday in addition to writing for work. So, video games it was.

I wound up adapting a couple of older things I’d written: First was an essay about Pac-Man, lines, the Japanese visual art suibokuga, and jazz called “Onward, Pac-Man!” I also did a rendition of “Fisher-Fest 2010″, which is a breakdown of the ridiculous dialogue in Splinter Cell: Conviction. I asked my friend Dan to come up to read the dialogue from Fisher-Fest with me, to shake things up. How would this go? Would we tank? Would anyone care? God only knew.

Okay, so: I get to the Makeout Room and it’s packed. There are like 80 people there, and they’re all Here To Listen To People Read Things. Um. So I’m going to get in front of this huge group of people and read an essay about Pac-Man. Right. Then, it turns out that the person who was supposed to kick us off hasn’t shown up, so I’m going to go FIRST. Good lord.

wwdfallingI’ve actually performed at the Makeout Room before, but every time I’ve done it, it’s been with my band. I’ve had a guitar or a saxophone to hide behind, and a whole band to back me up. There’s something so naked about getting up on stage with a sheaf of papers and just sort of… reading.

So I go up there to read, and about thirty seconds in it becomes clear–praise be–that this crowd totally gets it. They are on board. They want to hear about Pac-Man and jazz. They’re laughing at Fisher-Fest. (Money line from Dan: “You’ll die on your knees, like a SCIENTIST!”) And the whole time I’m on stage, vaguely thinking, “Here I am, reading an essay about Pac-Man and making jokes about Splinter Cell, and this audience is super into it? What the fuck planet am I on?”

Anyway, it was grand. I now fully understand why readings are A Thing. Other readers included Jan Richman doing a chapter from her book Thrill-Bent, Ramez Naam sharing a hilarious sci-fi sexual misadventure from his book Nexus, Wired‘s Erin Biba reading this article about the history and future of prenatal genetic testing, and another writer (who wasn’t on the bill and so whose name I’m tracking down) who filled in for an empty slot with a riveting story of a woman traveling on a bus to an extramarital tryst, only to have one of the passengers go missing.

During all of the readings, particularly that last one, I was struck by how the very vulnerability I was so nervous about going in–No instruments! No band! Just words and a mic!–actually became a strength. Because there wasn’t any loud music playing, people were quiet. Because there was only one thing to pay attention to, the audience was focused. We hung on every word, laughed at every joke. It was remarkable.

I was also surprised at how helpful it was for me to rework my writing into something that’d work for a live audience. It’s always useful to read your work out loud, but I’d never really taken an article or essay of mine and asked of it, “Could I read this out loud to a bar full of people? Would they get it? Would it work?”

The changes I made to both essays helped them flow, and removed assumed knowledge and jargon without in any way changing their gist or substance. The Pac-Man essay still articulates a concept I remain enamored of even a couple of years after I wrote the piece, but my actual writing in it feels clunky and effortful now. It’s overly purple, like I was trying to impress everyone. (Guess what: I was.) I say too little with too many words, and in the lede I assume that readers know both Splinter Cell and Minecraft. In making the article work for last night’s performance, I didn’t just make it more accessible, I also made it better.

So, there’s a cool exercise in there. Next time you’re writing something, ask of it: “Could I read this out loud? To a club full of ordinary people? Would they get it?” Granted, the approach won’t do much for, say, a review of a new graphics card, but if you’re going for broad appeal with whatever you’re writing, it’s a helpful measuring stick.

Anyway. Writers With Drinks was a lot of fun. If you live in SF, you should come out to the next one. I’ll be there!

You’re The Best! Around!

10 Jan

originalIt’s now 2013, and so of course everyone has done their “Best of 2012″ lists. At Kotaku, we decided to do writer-specific lists this year.

You can read my list here. It wound up being a list of 11 games, with some honorable mentions that are most honorable, indeed.

The list, in no particular order:

Thirty Flights of Loving
Max Payne 3
The Walking Dead
Hotline Miami
Gravity Rush
XCOM: Enemy Unknown
Journey
Far Cry 3
• Botanicula
Sleeping Dogs
Persona 4 Golden

With honorable mentions to FTL, Mark of the Ninja, Dyad, Torchlight II, Dishonored, Papo & Yo, Super Hexagon and Sound Shapes. For more on why I liked those games, check out the full article. Short version: They’re all good!

We also did a site-wide Game of the Year award. I argued for why Journey should be our GOTY, but in the end we gave it to XCOM: Enemy Unknown, and I’m just fine with that decision.

A pretty cool year for video games, all around. And while we’re only a week or so in, 2013 is looking like it’s going to be bananas. Hooray.

Read “Kirk’s Top 10 11 Games Of 2012″ At Kotaku

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