Month / December 2024

by Edward Champion

President Jimmy Carter Passes Away at 100

My friend described President Jimmy Carter as “the last selfless President.” And there’s certainly a lot of wisdom in that. Carter’s Presidential legacy was deeply underappreciated, but he was often decades ahead of his time.

Jimmy Carter, who served as our 39th President and won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2022 for his selfless work in stumping for human rights, passed away at his home this afternoon at the age of 100. He lived long enough to vote in the last election, but, perhaps mercifully, he didn’t subsist to see the potential destruction of democracy under the First American Fuhrer.

Carter was, for all of his flaws, a fundamentally decent man and, as one friend told me in tears on the phone, “the last selfless President.” And I think that’s a very good assessment. Carter certainly had an ego and was definitely well over his head when attempting to tame stagflation in tandem with the Fed. He also substantially underestimated the learning curve when shifting from Georgia politics to the more complicated brokering required in the Beltway. But better to have a pragmatic optimist like Carter in the White House — a man willing to try things, a man who actually cared about the American people, a man who did not require vast wealth and who even installed solar panels on the White House roof — to set an example for the nation. Better Carter than a megalomaniac like Trump or a duplicitous neoliberal huckster like Clinton.

While many have rightly pointed to Carter’s stunning feats as a diplomat and an indefatigable home builder long after he left Washington, his accomplishments as President, large and small, were considerable. He brokered a deal between Sadat and Rabin at Camp David to begin the first stages of peace in the Middle East. And every President who followed Carter failed to build from this significant negotiation, opting to cave to Israel rather than collect olive branches for international harmony.

Even after he lost the 1980 election, Carter still negotiated the Iran hostage crisis to the bitter end. He was so committed to humanism that he appointed more women, Blacks, and Hispanics to governmental positions than any previous President. And he also established the Department of Education, which liberated the vital need to educate our children from the overstuffed yoke of the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare. This made education — and education alone — a Cabinet-level priority. By doing so, Carter made it possible for untold millions of teens to go to colleges by way of financial aid and he fought discrimination against minority children. (Naturally, the Orange Monster — with great calumny to Carter’s legacy — plans to eliminate this department altogether.)

The plentiful craft beers that you now enjoy at a bar would not have happened, had not Carter signed a bill that removed a fifty year prohibition against homebrewing. If Carter had not done this, there’s a good chance that all of us would still be enduring the hideous swill of Bud and Miller Lite as the only drafts on tap, as opposed to the limitless stouts, IPAs, and flavorful lagers that you can now find across the country. (I gleaned that last fact from Kai Bird’s The Outlier, an excellent book on Carter that I strongly recommend. The book truly helped to advance my thinking on the soft-spoken peanut farmer.)

President Carter was ridiculed for his July 15, 1979 “malaise” speech during an energy crisis, in which Carter urged our nation to curb its selfishness:

The threat is nearly invisible in ordinary ways. It is a crisis of confidence. It is a crisis that strikes at the very heart and soul and spirit of our national will. We can see this crisis in the growing doubt about the meaning of our own lives and in the loss of a unity of purpose for our nation. The erosion of our confidence in the future is threatening to destroy the social and the political fabric of America.

These were not words that Americans wanted to hear, but these were certainly words that they needed to hear. For here we are, forty-five years later, living in a nation in which many feel that their lives lack real direction. Fifty-four days ago, 77 million Americans voted to blow up the bridge for everyone, laying waste to great possibilities and selling this nation out to the plutocrats simply because they couldn’t be bothered to bust out their phones and Google “tariffs” to understand the cold and clinical financial impact of stone-cold sleazebags on their own lives. Carter saw the writing on the wall decades before anybody else did and tried to warn us. But America was too stubborn to change and evolve. So here we are now in a deeply uncertain and very despotic place.

Like John F. Kennedy, Carter was an idealist (as well as a hardcore reader) who believed in possibility, even when he didn’t always comprehend the abstruse scaffolding holding up the three branches of American government. He would often work late hours, valiantly rolling up his sleeves, so eager to know everything that he once read each and every volume of the tax code. Since Carter had been an engineer, he approached his job with a fierce systematic mind. And there was no President following Carter who was this hell-bent on knowing everything. Or trying to know everything. I’d like to think that Carter’s insatiable curiosity was one of the reasons he tried so damned hard to be the best humanist imaginable.

With Carter’s passing, so too passes a long moment in America. It remains uncertain if we can course-correct after the next four volatile and nightmarish years. But perhaps if we study Carter with humble and scrupulous eyes, we might reclaim the hope and the honesty that marked his four years in office.

by Edward Champion

The American Homelessness Crisis

The new HUD report shows a remarkably unsettling rise in American homelessness. This is the worst homelessness crisis since the Reagan years. Wages and affordable housing have failed to rise in proportion with these new figures. And the hell of it is that it would not cost that much for Americans — particularly, the richest ones — to pay their fair share and ensure that nobody lives in poverty.

On Friday, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (aka HUD) released its Annual Homelessness Assessment Report and the data is extremely dispiriting and disturbing. Homelessness rose 18.1% over the course of 2024. And to give you an indication of just how dramatic this unfathomable rise truly is, by point of comparison, homelessness increased 19.2% from 2007 to 2024. In other words, in one year, homelessness increased at nearly the exact same rate that it had over the course of the previous seventeen years. As HUD was careful to note in its press release, this report was generated from data collected more than a year ago. Meaning that the tally of homeless Americans — which stood at 770,000 on a cold solitary night in January 2024 — is undoubtedly larger than this.

The culprits, of course, are the lack of affordable housing and wages not rising fast enough to accommodate this new influx of people who don’t make enough money at their jobs to pay their rent. The chart pictured above is taken from data pulled from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, which shows a dramatic upward curve — one that correlates with the sharp increase in homelessness during the last seventeen years — of the consumer price index for the average residential rent in America. 230,806 in January 2007 to 426,651 in November 2024. According to the NYU Furman Center, the median gross rent increased by 16.2% between 2011 and 2021. In Los Angeles County, the average rent increased 14.09% between 2023 and 2024. The average rent in Chicago went up $600/month in just under ten years.

There has not been a federal increase in minimum wage since 2009. A series of amendments to the Fair Labor Standards Act, passed in 2007 increased the minimum wage to $5.85/hour as of July 24, 2007, $6.55/hour as of July 24, 2008, and $7.25/hour as of July 24, 2009. In other words, during the same time window in which homelessness drastically increased, minimum wage — which was intended to offer the bare minimum to live in America — has not risen in direct proportion to these draconian costs.

In other words, the data couldn’t be any clearer. Even before Donald Trump has taken office, the United States is presently experiencing the worst homeless crisis seen since the Reagan years, in which homelessness doubled from 1984 to 1987. But in 1984, the number of homeless people was lower, estimated to be somewhere in the area of 200,000 to 500,000. Reagan famously cut vital social services that were designed to combat this grossly immoral and utterly cruel neglect of the most marginalized members in society.

This is only going to get worse.

Trump is prepared to go much further than Reagan with the newly created Department of Government Efficiency (aka DOGE). Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy are prepared to dismantle nearly anything that’s left to aid the vulnerable. Earlier this month, Elon Musk stated, “In most cases, the word ‘homeless’ is a lie. It’s usually a propaganda word for violent drug addicts with severe mental illness.” On July 25, 2023, when Ramaswamy was running for President, he published an op-ed in The New York Post in which he outrageously suggested that homeless people should stop receiving any financial assistance whatsoever and risibly concluded that a focus on “family, faith, and truth” would somehow serve in lieu of the vital cash needed to escape impoverishment. Last I heard, “family, faith, and truth” isn’t recognized as our national currency and it sure as hell isn’t going to buy you a sandwich at the bodega. “Family, faith, and truth” — particularly the truth twisted with coldblooded glee — won’t land you an apartment when the average rent continues to rise. It won’t build affordable housing units. It won’t, in short, solve the problem. But these two callous vultures are now eager to slice anything that remains of homeless aid.

And if you seriously believe that the Democrats are going to come to the rescue, think again. The duplicitous Bill Clinton set the cruel tenor when he signed the Welfare Reform Act in 1996, dismantling ADFC and replacing it with a forced labor requirement if you hoped to receive the penurious allotment to put food on your table or diapers for your children. The Welfare Reform Act was never intended to help the homeless. It was set up to create welfare companies that could profit from these new marks. In 2023, That Uncertain Hour‘s Krissy Clark conducted an investigation on this nefarious practice, which has been scantly reported on in by corporate media.

In 2014, Obama signed the Farm Bill, which made more than $8 billion in cuts to the food stamp program and increased the likelihood that someone teetering on the edge of homelessness would fall off the precipice. 89 Democrats voted for this vile bill in the House.

How much would it cost to cure poverty in America? The great Matthew Desmond has calculated the figure at $177 billion. That’s how much it would take annually to ensure that all Americans rise above the poverty line. He believes that if the richest 1% paid their fair share, this new safety net would eliminate homelessness and its attendant problems (crime, addiction, mental health).

But the prospect of any radical remedy to a very serious problem is nonexistent under Donald Trump and under a House and a Senate that is controlled by Republicans. These politicians have been purchased by the very millionaires and billionaires who don’t want to pay their fair share for American success.

Given all this overwhelming data, one must naturally ask what it will take for America to get serious about homelessness. How many people have to become homeless before the issue, which is already out of control, is properly addressed? Two million? Ten million? Fifty million?

Lawmakers and everyday Americans have grown accustomed to looking the other way when they see a homeless man begging for change on the streets. This is a deeply ingrained behavioral pattern that needs a significant 180. Because it’s very clear that government is not going to help us. But maybe if we get serious about pooling our resources through mutual aid, we can do what the government can’t.

What’s so astonishing is that it actually would not cost that much to fix poverty. If we take Desmond’s figure of $177 billion and divide it by the American population of 334 million, that works out to $526 each year that every American would have to pay. Five hundred dollars. That’s half the price of your annual cable bill. That’s five trips to the grocery store. Five nights out on the town. It really doesn’t cost that much. In fact, the annual tally would be considerable less for the working-class and the middle-class if those in the higher income brackets paid a greater proportion.

Financially speaking, it makes no sense whatsoever for the plutocrats to continue profiting on the underprivileged. If the homeless population continues to rise so rapidly, there won’t be a consumer class that can prop up the economy. Unless, of course, the idea here is to create a new form of slavery, whereby the hungry and the homeless are forced to toil for the most picayune remuneration imaginable while being deracinated of all opportunity and democratic agency. Given the sociopathic declarations from Elon and Vivek, it would appear that this is going to be the plan. Because why does anyone need a roof over his head when there’s “family, faith, and truth”?

by Edward Champion

Jeff VanderMeer is a Toxic and Entitled Bully: The Receipts

Jeff VanderMeer is the Donald Trump of speculative fiction. He is a toxic and narcissistic bully who will harass you if he doesn’t get his way. And he will lie through his opportunistic teeth to get what he feels is entitled to him. This essay, which includes a toxic exchange that Jeff perpetuated near the end of 2010, documents the awful relationship I had with Jeff VanderMeeer. And I urge everyone to not have anything to do with this monomaniacal narcissist.

Jeff VanderMeer has had an incredibly toxic and unhealthy obsession with me for nearly twenty years. He has delighted in leading smear campaigns against me — without a shred of evidence — on his blog and on social media. The source of this monomaniacal animus goes back to the fall of 2009. You are about to learn exactly what kind of an abusive and insanely retaliatory maniac Jeff VanderMeer truly is. You are going to learn that, if you cross Jeff, he will declare you an enemy for life and that he will devote any and all resources to impugning you — until either you or him drop dead. And, call me crazy, that ain’t exactly the healthiest relationship you should have with an audience, to say the least. Jeff VanderMeer clearly doesn’t understand that no artist can ever please everyone. But if he shows you exactly how he deals with people who don’t genuflect every ounce of their free will to him, he will be more than happy to weaponize the Internet against them. This is what’s commonly referred to as megalomania. And I think it’s safe to say that Jeff VanderMeer is the Donald Trump of speculative fiction.

Four people have informed me that they have also been recipients of Jeff’s deranged zeal and his private backchannel gaslighting, but, as Jeff has had increased success as a writer (particularly after the Alex Garland film adaptation of Annihilation, which dramatically improved the clunky and poorly written novel), his toxic qualities have only grown worse. His hubris has burgeoned to staggering levels and his talent has atrophied. These four people have feared going on the public record and “crossing” him. And I will protect their privacy. Because I don’t want so see anyone harassed by a pathetic 56-year-old bully.

But I have no such qualms revealing my own dealings with the disordered basket case known as Jeff VanderMeer. (And, believe me, there are far more emails — worse emails — than what I’ve published below.)

I am sick and tired of Jeff VanderMeer constantly manufacturing artificial drama about me. Particularly when I have the receipts about what he did to damage our relationship. I have resisted publishing these emails until now. But I feel that I now have to. Because Jeff VanderMeer is a wanton thug and I don’t want other people to be hit with the same ridiculous abuse. And also because Jeff simply will not stop. And because he will not stop, he has forced my hand. You are going to read the messages of a man who lashed out at me when I was being kind, sensitive, and honest. You are going to see the only writer in 553 episodes who ever felt entitled to another interview on my old literary podcast, The Bat Segundo Show, and who falsely accused me of not being truthful, even though he did not arrange for his books to be sent to me with enough reading time and refused to respect my benevolent honesty.

(I did arrange for another interviewer to interview him. Because that’s the kind of guy I am. I also agreed to hang out with him in a diner when he rolled through New York. And we did — at the Westway Diner on November 21, 2009, according to my records — only for Jeff to spend a lot of his time huffing and puffing in his seat, his arms permanently crossed as if he were stopping himself from punching some perceived enemy, occasionally sneering at me, and interrogating me about my podcast.)

When I gently told him that I was overbooked and that I didn’t have the time to read his books (as I did with every author) and conduct a proper interview, particularly since I had not even been sent copies in time, he threw a stupendous temper tantrum by email and called me a liar. (I forwarded this exchange to a mutual contact, who informed me that Jeff was prone to this sort of volatile communication style. If only I had known earlier, I would never have booked him.) Jeff made a series of increasingly insane accusations against me. Throughout this entire volley, I did my best to play it cool. But Jeff was emailing me four emails for every one I sent, with some new emails contradicting the previous ones.

In January 2022, when I was unemployed and had only about fifty dollars to my name, I received a colossal tax bill that I had no way of paying and went on a binge drinking tear. I’m not proud of my slip. I completely lost my cool, to say the least. Jeff VanderMeer seized the moment and intercepted a draft blog post that I had accidentally published and swiftly deleted in my stupid inebriation to whip up a social media campaign against me. I ignored all the vitriol he had spawned and spent my time cleaning up my act. I spent 150 days sober (not so much as a drop of beer or wine), composed a Western soundtrack for a friend’s audio drama, managed to land a job (and some financial help from friends; everyone was paid back within months, including the tax man), and now only drink modestly on the weekends. My only slip from this quasi-sober regimen was shortly after the devastating election results back in November, in which I fell off the wagon and downed a great deal of Black Label. Again, I’m not proud of that. Fortunately, I swiftly course-corrected and was soon sober and writing again and rallying the troops against fascism. (Nobody’s perfect, although Jeff, who will never admit a mistake, will probably tell you that he’s the exception. This is, after all, the way that toxic narcissists roll.)

And these circumstances represented the “bullshit” that Jeff was to “call me out” on. Because he really wants everyone — including the barista who undertoasted his bagel; how dare she! — to worship his “genius.” An elitist sociopathic pig like Jeff couldn’t give two shits about anyone who makes under $50,000/year. He is, in short, one of the bad ones.

A few weeks ago, a friend asked me what happened between Jeff VanderMeer and me. And I told him over the phone. The memories reminded me what an abusive asshole Jeff had been to me. And I read Absolution, Jeff’s latest book, on Friday out of morbid curiosity. I was completely stunned and taken aback by how poorly written it was — particularly the third part, in which every sentence contained a “fuck” or two — and it was completely unconvincing. So I wrote a satirical review in the same preposterous and badly written form. (Yes, I was egged on by a few people who thought the results were hilarious.)

Jeff, who doesn’t possess a sense of humor and who is used to people kissing his ass, obviously wasn’t pleased. On December 28, 2024, at 11:33 AM — a mere eight hours after the review had been published (do I live in his head rent-free or is he more interested in practicing a literary form of the autocratic gaslighting dominance described by Ruth Ben-Ghiat in her excellent book Strongmen?) — VanderMeer claimed — falsely, as it turns out — that he would not read what I had written. His aim, of course, was to whip up hatred and present himself as the aggrieved “victim.” Any normal author — hell, any well-adjusted human being — would have laughed it off. But, you see, Jeff has always lived for the attention. He loves being the leader in his own cult of acolytes who will never question his “genius.” Seeing that everybody had piled onto his BlueSky post, while I was out and about having a fun time, Jeff spent late Saturday night doubling down on this. Typical behavior. For a guy who doesn’t care about anything I have to say, he certainly seems to have a lot of spare time on his hands doing precisely that!

* * *

I was initially fond of Jeff. In the summer of 2006, he had sent me a package containing his Ambergris stories. His writing voice back then was quirky, endearing, and filled with a sense of humanism. This was obviously a wacky original who wasn’t getting mainstream press coverage. So, of course, I happily set up a Bat Segundo interview, which aired on August 28, 2006.

We proceeded to correspond every so often with each other. I’d often receive a tortured message from him over some bad review. I have literally never known any author who cared so much about his press more than Jeff VanderMeer. And I replied, as I would (and have) to any writer, gently telling him to ignore the bastards. Then, on October 10, 2009, Jeff told me that he was going to be in town and that he wanted to either get together with a small group or do a “no holds barred” Bat Segundo interview. It was an extremely weird email that made me feel uncomfortable. At the time, I had already booked too many author interviews and was considering ending the show because I was burned out. And I politely informed him that I couldn’t do the second option, but that I was amenable to the first. I never wanted any guest to feel cheated. I gave my A game to everyone.

This meetup was the Westway Diner meeting I have already mentioned.

But sometime in December 2009 — in a post that Jeff has conveniently deleted and that cannot be found through the Wayback Machine — Jeff posted an unsettling post on “leverage” dripping with unbridled resentment for anyone who had spurned him. I had reason to be concerned. For Jeff had written about me in Booklife, viewing me in crassly mercantile terms that made me feel deeply uncomfortable. Thus began a correspondence in which Jeff lost his mind, which can be read in full below. Pay attention to the unhinged accusations that come out of nowhere and Jeff constantly monitoring my Twitter feed for any perceived sleight. (There was none.) Pay further attention to the extremely demented way in which Jeff demands fealty and puts forth conditional terms and the way he sees “threats” when none are there. This man was not well then, by any means. And I don’t think he’s improved in the intervening years. And also observe how understanding I was as Jeff was losing his shit and going well out of his way to find any new means of insulting me. Then again, for all I know, he was feigning an act of madness to manipulate me. That would certainly be on brand. Nobody, after all, ever questions the mad “genius.”

Date: December 29, 2009 5:49 PM
To: Jeff VanderMeer
From: Edward Champion

Jeff:

While I can certainly see where you are coming from, there are significant problems with your approach to leverage, displayed in your post and (to some degree) in Booklife. While I didn’t find your stance as creepy as Jessa Crispin did, what I read is this: You are essentially viewing readers, advocates, and fellow people in the community as Bernaysian tools, completely ignoring the fact that they have inner souls. Yes, people can be advocates for your work. But they are often MORE than advocates. Discounting the rabid fanboys who wish to take up every spare whit of your time, well-adjusted people have thoughts and feelings and may not always be in the position to give you what you hope for. Their perceived failure may not necessarily be miserly and, as you point out in the comments, it may not simply be part of their personalities. But connections among people shouldn’t involve some permanent ledger in which you are constantly keeping a tally, which is how it’s coming across to me in your post. That’s just not a healthy way to carry on with people, either personally or professionally. I’m sure you know that, but I bring this up because it simply isn’t reflected in your blog post. If someone decides not to give you the press or the attention that you feel you deserve, there may be other extenuating circumstances existing outside the ones you’re speculating upon. Most of the time, simply ASKING the other person what’s up will clarify things. Direct communication, as we all know, is far healthier than idle speculation about a person’s motives. That way lies paranoia and crazy one million word diaries.

To present my own circumstances during your last tour: After doing anywhere from five to eight shows a month almost nonstop for four years, I was understandably burned out. There were many other contributing factors (being in a very shaky financial position, having a particularly humiliating stint with _______, and overcoming these considerable difficulties to continue work on the novel-in-progress, which has proven to be more fun and more challenging than I could have anticipated: thankfully, all this has been rectified in recent months). All this was going on in October (which was when you emailed me about it) and November. This is why I did not interview you for Segundo. I don’t wish to subject any author to a stale interlocutory approach or give any author a subpar experience because of any personal distractions. It isn’t fair to them. It isn’t fair to the listeners. (Segundo is now a weekly affair starting in 2010, which is one of my community services. I had to figure out a way to keep it going, because I know that it’s needed. Particularly since Silverblatt, despite remaining optimistic, has informed me that Bookworm is on thin ice.) The interview I told you about in person had actually been set up a few days before we met. Additionally, I would have gladly attended your New York appearance with Jeffrey Ford (for I dig both of you guys), had not __________, an individual who has gone out of his way to spread false and inaccurate information about me, been at the helm. Removing myself from the situation was a way for me to avoid any unpleasantness that might have infringed upon the undoubtedly pleasant proceedings, which were certainly not about me. I was also never sent copies of FINCH or BOOKLIFE, although I did manage to intercept the copy of FINCH that you sent Sarah. (KOSHER actually arrived a few days ago, and I look forward to reading this.) Given these multiple circumstances, there were understandable hiccups that had little to do with you. Best I could do was a friendly meetup. And, in fact, I canvassed Eric on interviewing you before he was in touch with Matt.

I drum all this up in the unlikely event that you may be obliquely corralling me within your category of miserly people, but also to inform you of the practicalities, limitations, and efforts of one person to deliver coverage to numerous people under dire conditions. When you make unspecified accusations (without citing a single example) about people being miserly with their leverage, I find this to be an inconsiderate position — possibly one that you didn’t intend. The fact that it is buttressed by the call for more people to take honest and controversial stands actually reinforces the very position that you are railing against. I’m sure I’m not the only person who feels this way.

I’m a no bullshit guy, Jeff, and, as you know, for any skirmishes, I’m happy to clarify or listen or atone. I’m not a big fan of passive aggression, although if someone doesn’t want to resolve something, I respect the time needed to come back to something. But you just can’t call everybody miserly like that. It may come across to some as selfish and ungrateful. I have to ask: In railing against the presumed misers, to what degree are you keeping quiet? To what degree are you truly to clear things up with the misers? These issues are nowhere in your post and that’s just as vital an aspect of relations as anything else.

Again, all this is a way of helping to flesh out an important issue to being a writing professional. If you don’t fully take into account these aspects, then you’re going to get more Jessa Crispins on your ass. And they’re not going to necessarily be direct about it.

In any event (and this may come across as an awkward segue), I sincerely hope that you and Ann had a grand holiday. Best wishes on all fronts and happy new year. And look forward to reading more of your material.

Thanks and all best,

Ed

* * *

Date: December 29, 2009 6:14 PM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

Dude, you are totally misreading the post.

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 29, 2009 6:16 PM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

Ed:

No it is not about you. It is not even about the subject you think it is about.

I tried to make it clear that I didn’t give a fuck whether you interviewed me or not.

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 29, 2009 6:23 PM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

And I don’t give a flying fuck about you and _____________. He was perfect for the gig, I wanted to meet him. I wasn’t going to sit there and go “how will this affect Ed Champion.”

What I objected to at our meal was an apparent *lack of directness.* I didn’t care about the interview–i cared about you apparently *lying* to me. In other words, you idiot, I don’t need friends who lie to me. Geez.

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 29, 2009 6:27 PM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

And as for booklife, you and Jessa form a small minority who’ve read the book that way. The vast majority have taken it as intended.

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 29, 2009 9:57 PM
To: Jeff VanderMeer
From: Edward Champion

So I come back and I get four apoplectic emails from you sent from the worst possible medium — the iPhone.

What in the hell are you talking about? How did I lie to you?

* * *

Date: December 29, 2009 10:27 PM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

You said you weren’t doing interviews then went on about all the interviews you’d done. You looked distinctly caught out when I mentioned it. I could care less about the interview. But I do care bout truthfulness and I don’t care for people who make it all about them. That’s all. I thought your email to me was pompous and full of yourself and deliberately misunderstanding points in the book. You’re very high maintainance I am not in the mood today.

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 29, 2009 11:14 PM
To: Jeff VanderMeer
From: Edward Champion

Jeff:

For what it’s worth, I apologize for any verbal or non-verbal miscommunication. Clearly, some small unknowing gesture on my part upset you. But here’s where I’m coming from.

This is what I wrote to you on October 11th:

“I’m actually on hiatus from Segundo right now, and I’m doing my best to keep it this way. I got burned big time by an author who threw a temper tantrum after I had spent two weeks reading his books. And there have been numerous vocational setbacks that I won’t trouble you with. However, I would be happy to hang with you when you’re in town and just shoot the shit. I certainly look forward to reading FINCH.”

The interviews that I was talking about, as I recall, were a handful of people over a few weeks, which I had only scheduled a few days prior to meeting with you. I did not lie to you when I said (frazzled and burned out) that I was taking a hiatus from Segundo. This was true. At the time, I truly did not know if the show would continue. It took me weeks to figure out what I wanted to do, the circumstances of which I have already explained (not because I believed your post to be about me, but to give you an example of the internal complexities that you accuse so-called “miserly” types of). I then scheduled a small group of interviews (less than a handful) around that time. Largely to test the waters. I didn’t even have a fucking copy of FINCH until days before you came through New York, nor did I have a copy of BOOKLIFE until you handed me an extra one at the diner. So even if I wanted to, there was really no way I could schedule enough time to read your books and prepare for the interview. Unless it’s a film person, I need at least two weeks prep time for an author.

So, no, Jeff, I did not lie to you. There was no way I could have conducted the interview given the timetable.

At the time you brought up the Segundo thing, as I recall, you laughed the whole thing off. You never indicated that you were pissed off. And for all of your talk about truthfulness (or “truthiness,” which seems more applicable in this case), you never once leveled with me. So I’m baffled by your accusations of pomposity and deliberate misunderstanding of points in the book (in fact, I was more addressing your blog post rather than BOOKLIFE proper).

I’m going to chalk up your accusations here to being tired, exhausted, or some outside contributing factor beyond my ken. But I will say that calling people who have your fucking back “pompous,” “high maintenance,” and “apparently lying” is NOT cool, Jeff, and unacceptable. Particularly when none of these modifiers are applicable. For a guy who professes to value leverage, you’re doing a heck of a job chasing away your allies.

Sincerely,

Ed

* * *

Date: December 29, 2009 11:48 PM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

Whatever. I am happy to put it to miscommunication rather than a lie. But I did put it to you pointedly, whether with a laugh or not. You never said you didn’t have either book. I have never felt one way or the other that you had my back.

But I am telling you now that to misinterpret my post and my book, especially knowing me and my record, is pretty piss poor. And while I don’t think of you as miserly, you’re not on my top fifty most generous people out there, either.

I was delighted to have a chance to talk. I could care less about being interviewed. Is this clear? I almost feel like you’re upset you didn’t get review copies. I was fairly sure you had, but there must’ve been a glitch with the publisher.

I am not tired or particularly upset. I am mostly not interested in being called a soulless PR hack. Have you read my books, dude? They’re fucking strange. I have to work twice as hard as most people to find my audience. So I don’t appreciate it. I suppose by your measure of things I should sink back into the mire and be happy with an audience of 1k instead of 20k.

I wish you could walk in the shoes of a published novelist for a fucking year. You’d understand then just how complex all of these dynamics are.

But mostly…man, I say writers should use their political capital to do good works…and you twist that simple, decent message into something shitty. C’mon.

I am not interested in having you as an ally. You aren’t getting anything from me for review. I am never doing your show. Do you get it? You can be relieved you’re off the chessboard. Since that’s how you think I see things.

Jesus.

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 29, 2009 11:58 PM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

I am happy to be your friend, but as I said I am taking ally off the table.

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 12:04 AM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

And what was that stupid sophomoric twitter message conflating me and Lethem a little while back?

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 12:10 AM
To: Jeff VanderMeer
From: Edward Champion

Don’t email me again. You’re way out of line. And unless you atone big time, you’re neither a friend nor an ally. I’m done with you. You fucked up big time.

I truly thought better of you.

Saddened and disappointed,

Ed

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 12:18 AM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

Whatever. I am still your friend.

I have your back as your friend, but I am not interesting in dealing with you on a professional level. It’s too much work.

*You* don’t even have to apologize, although you should.

As for the fucked up big time–i am your friend, but if that’s a threat, it’d be best if you withdrew it immediately.

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 12:28 AM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

And I am happy to apologize regardless, but only in the context of it being understood that I am not sending you review copies and I am not interested in ever being on your show. Otherwise, an apology seems like a way to gain an advantage.

Your email set me off because I do consider us friends and I expect you to give me the benefit of the doubt. I certainly have done the same for you re several of your blog posts in the past.

So, apologies. And thanks for calming me down when the Crispin thing happened.

And I know you have had some reversals of late, and I know it hasn’t been easy for you until recently.

PS clearly if I saw people as merely contacts none of this exchange would’ve occurred. I would’ve doffed my hat, said “yer right, guv’nor” and gone on with my life.

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 12:35 AM
To: Jeff VanderMeer
From: Edward Champion

You’re drunk. Get some sleep and contact me when you have a clear head.

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 12:37 AM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

I am not drunk. I am apologizing.

jeffrog the tarded

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 9:14 AM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

Right. It is morning. I am sorry for the vitriol. I am firm on the friends and taking you off the reviewer list. I just don’t see any other way to proceed. I just think it simplifies things.

I see now that I think you were trying to extend an olive branch. But I hope you see my point, too.

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 9:43 AM
To: Jeff VanderMeer
From: Edward Champion

Jeff:

I don’t do conditional friendship. Your actions were way out of line. Get some help. I do wish you the best.

Sincerely,

Ed

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 9:49 AM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

Wow. You really do see people as binaries. Amazing. So I take out the element that would *get in the way of friendship*, the part that would leave a suspicion of manipulation, and you can’t hack it. Amazing. After starting this with your amazingly self-absorbed email. Amazing.

Maybe you need a wake-up call. There is not one person I met in NYC who, when I mentioned your name, had anything good to say about you. I had to spend a good deal of time defending you. No more.

Well, have a nice life. If you ever come to your senses, email me.

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 9:50 AM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

Way out of line. You’re just too used to authors sucking up to you. You’re a total hypocrite on this issue of leverage.

Jeff, replying from his phone…

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 10:37 AM
To: Jeff VanderMeer
From: Edward Champion

Jeff:

This exchange has clearly moved into the Twilight Zone.

So here’s the deal. If you want to resolve this, then we need to do this by phone. Call me at 718-XXX-XXXX. Because clearly there is something here you are not communicating to me or you are deliberately misreading my emails (or vice versa). The conversation must be relatively calm, honest, civil, and we must listen to each other.

Sincerely,

Ed

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 11:12 AM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

Ed:

You need to actually read my emails. I hold no ill-will toward you, but you
are not following my train of thought here. I don’t think a phone call
solves anything. I think you and I should take a break from communicating
for a month or two and then talk. But I’m firm on this–I am not having
anything to do with your show or you as a reviewer. That is off the table,
and it’s not pejorative–I often, without saying it, don’t send stuff to a
reviewer or a podcaster if I become friends with them because I feel it
becomes a conflict of interest. It’s just overt here.

More importantly, I’m too busy to take a phone call. I’ve got 1,000,000
words of anthos to deliver by May 1st.

All apologies,

Jeff

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 11:12 AM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer
Subject: in any event, peace

Have a good New Year’s, man, and don’t let any of this worry you. Here’s to a good 2010.

Jeff

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 11:57 AM
To: Jeff VanderMeer
From: Edward Champion

You too. Let’s cool off and return to this in less frazzled and considerably calmer circumstances.

Thanks and all best,

Ed

* * *

Date: December 30, 2009 12:10 PM
To: Edward Champion
From: Jeff VanderMeer

Sure, no problem. And apologies for the vitriol. It is true I’m under tremendous pressure right now.

Have a good one.

jeff

by Edward Champion

Kate Tuttle: The Talentless Corporate Husk Who Bangs Out Hollow Platitudes About Books

Kate Tuttle has called me a “noted asshole.” That may or may not be true. But her reliance on generic corporate language for her “reviews” makes her a pathetic bore who is more than a little dead inside.

Kate Tuttle is an unremarkable corporate windup doll who writes about books much in the same way that moribund losers sign up for macramé classes to make friends: namely, deadening the room with dull and desiccated sentences, life-sucking generalizations, and all the lack of adventure that you see in some uptight and hopelessly white suburbanite who upturns her nose at any dinner entree with a touch of paprika. I’ve stayed silent about this toothless husk for many years. There was really no reason to care. Because I tend to ignore those who couldn’t write an original thought to salvage their sad and spent lives. Indeed, my only contact with this miserable batbrain over the great epoch of my Molotov-throwing existence was to ask her to pass along my thanks to her far more accomplished husband for mentioning me in his truly excellent book, Bunk. But that was only because I didn’t have the dude’s email. I don’t think that is the sign of an “asshole” — I’m sorry, “noted asshole,” to evoke Tuttle’s panache for unoriginal vitriol. Then again, the literary world is so dull and gutless, so casually resentful towards any talent who sticks out, that they feel an overwhelming and deranged need to summon me every so often — despite all the long debunked canards about me — into the role of the dependable heavy.

Well, now that Tuttle has called me a “noted asshole”– this when I tend to be kind and congenial if you meet me in the streets — I feel that I have a responsibility to live up to the ridiculous moniker by finally exposing this hideous charlatan, who is better suited to banging out press releases in between suicidal ideations. Largely because I very much subscribe to what Sean Connery once identified as “the Chicago Way” when it comes to settling scores with insignificant and unsmiling fuckwits who write with the absent gusto of someone who is permanently dead inside. If she had simply said nothing, the fireworks you are about to see would not have been written. Consider this a caveat to any other corporate media dullard who wants to start shit with me.

To get a sense for how this desperate gasbag pads out her “pieces,” one can look no further than her review of Abigail Thomas’s Still Life at Eighty:

She does worry about the state of her memory, as perhaps everyone her age does. “My memory is full of holes,” she notes, and later asks, “Does losing memories presage losing my mind?”

Yes, Tuttle really does thinks this little of her readership. Despite the cited quote already establishing that Thomas worries about her memory, Tuttle feels the need to spoon-feed this in the most insultingly condescending terms, even though anyone with a sixth grade level of education could decipher this obvious point on his own. And Tuttle is so artless a writer that the word “worry” appears seven times in an 800 word review.

Tuttle’s proclivity to repeat herself like someone suffering from palilalia is also prominently featured in this Mina Javaherbin profile:

Children’s book author Mina Javaherbin is an architect as well as a writer, and her latest book was largely inspired by the architecture of her father’s hometown, Isfahan, Iran.

Kate Tuttle is a critic who criticizes books in works of criticism! (Uses of “architect” or “architecture” appear five times here. And this senseless snippet is under 400 words.) Was there some internal memo within the Globe ordering its staffers to repeat words like this to court the departing eyeballs?

In fact, Tuttle is such a careless hack that she can’t even match proper tense in a lede: “but everywhere she turns there’s another obstacle — including some that might be deadly.” Boston Globe, this is the “editor” you’ve kept on board to run your books section? Indeed, Tuttle is such an incurious bean counter that a thoughtful dude like Alex Segura is reduced to spouting generalizations hammered in by media training: “It felt like an interesting challenge.” And in interviewing Jodi Picoult on the vital topic of book bans, Tuttle never once brokers anything other than general questions, which is a significant insult and a trivialization toward an author needlessly censored by fascist (and often sexist) zealots. In rightly commending Rebecca L. Davis’s fearless work, Tuttle describes her “well-turned and crystal clear explanations.” (Tuttle can’t seem to pick a lane when only one modifier offering the same meaning will do.)

And if you think that Kate Tuttle is a champion for women writers, consider the crass way in which she belittles Jami Attenberg for writing “a longer timespan than she’d used in previous novels.” Now I’m obviously no fan of Jami Attenberg. But I would never denigrate a writer like this. A writer who flexes her wings and attempts ambition shouldn’t be singled out like this. Would Tuttle have made the same pronouncement if Attenberg were a man? Perhaps this was an aloof attempt at gender parity. But three women who I read this passage to on the phone this afternoon (I did not tell them that a woman wrote this until after they answered) all told me that this came across as patronizing.

I may or may not be an asshole, “noted” or otherwise. But I can tell you this much. I actually write in a voice that you’ll fucking remember. Kate Tuttle will continue banging out these hopeless platitudes and lackadaisical gaffes, but she has failed to grasp that well-behaved women never make history.

by Edward Champion

The Worst Book of 2024: Jeff VanderMeer’s ABSOLUTION

A motherfucking review

Hey, you fucking motherfuckers! I am Jeff Fucking VanderMeer, a certifiable fucking genius and fucking wildly arrogant fuckface who shits on anyone who doesn’t suck my fucking cock! Oh fucking yeah, you fucking bitches! In fucking fact, I’m such a fucking tough guy (or at least I fucking think I am in my fucking head; I’m a gym rat, you fucks!) that I fucking compensate for my fucking lack of fucking talent by fucking using the fucking word fuck a fucking lot in the third fucking part of my latest fucking book. Oh fucking yeah!

Fuck you if you fucking can’t fucking handle it!

I am Jeff Fucking Motherfucking Fuckerfucking VanderMeer, you fucking bitches! Lick my fucking asshole. I fucking know you fucking will. Because I’ve fucking gotten a fucking fuckadoodle fuck my giddy fucking aunt fair fucking pass for so fucking long. But fucking now, you’re finally starting to fucking grasp that I am the greatest fucking pain in the motherfucking ass to my motherfucking editors, who won’t fucking talk because I gamed social fucking media and created a fucking army of MAGA-like lemmings to fucking hang on to my every fucking word. And they fucking like it! Because I am fucking Jeff Fucking VanderMeer, Fucking Genius. Oh fucking shit! Am I a fucking failure because even the fucking Goodreads crowd constantly fucking rates my motherfucking books very fucking low? (3.38 for fucking Annihilation, which is supposed to be my fucking classic? 3.25 for Hummingbird Salamander, which nobody fucking read? 3.22 for A Peculiar Peril?) Oh my fucking god! My fucking non-Southern Fucking Reach novels ain’t fucking selling. Ain’t fucking rating! So I better fucking write a fucking new one and bamboozle the ever living fuck out of all these stupid fucks who I have fucking conned. Oh fucking yeah!

I was so fucking happy when Abigail Fucking Nussbaum rimmed my motherfucking ass in The Guardian. Oh fucking yeah! I mean, she fucking used the fucking word Nabokovian! When all I fucking did was randomly insert the fucking word “fuck” into the third fucking part. And well, you fucking know, it’s so fucking difficult for a Fucking Literary Genius like fucking me to fucking write in any vaguely fucking coherent way. But, hey, Fucking Abigail, I fucking appreciate the fawning ass munch!

I hope you won’t fucking mind if I fucking quote from my motherfucking novel, because I fucking am, at the end of the motherfucking day, a Fucking Literary Genius!

Shit. It smelled so good and nary a fucking small woodland creature he’d manage to bag, even since free of the Southern Reach’s fucked-up policy on the matter. A good broth on a winter’s day. The way the broth would bubble with those golden bubbles, each one on the surface breaking open to add to a salivating scent.

Did you fucking see what I fucking did there? You fucking see? I dropped a “nary” to make my fucking hackery sound a little fucking literary. And you all fucking bought it! And if I drop an “ever since free,” you’ll fucking believe that all of these fucking gratuitous fucks I fucking drop are actually fucking intentional. When, you fucking know, I’m just pulling all this out of my stinky nearing-IBS fucking asshole! And if I fucking repeat myself with the fucking “bubbles,” the greater solipsism and complete lack of fucking craft in my shit-flavored fucking prose won’t be fucking exposed, amirite?

But even fucking before all this “fuck” business, I was fucking conning you motherfuckers the entire fucking time!

It irked the locals who liked birding to be in pursuit of a rare vermillion flycatcher, only to gaze through binoculars … at what turned out to be a biologist wearing a red bandana, staring back through her own binoculars.

You see, I’ve edited so many fucking anthologies that I fucking know that if you drop a ten fucking cent word like “vermillion” (Gene Fucking Wolfe move, motherfuckers! but without the fucking craft!) and I fucking mindlessly repeat the fucking phrasing like fucking “binoculars” — well, fucking then, motherfucker, I’m certainly fucking going to continuing fucking conning you motherfuckers while fucking laughing my fucking way to the fucking midlist fucking bank!

In fucking fact, I am so fucking secure in my Motherfucking Literary Genius that I can fucking boast like a fucking teenybopper signing on for a fucking record label that my fucking willful catastrophe has gone into a third fucking printing.

In fucking short, I fucking cheated you. You probably didn’t fucking read my horseshit. But that’s fucking okay. Because I’m a Fucking Literary Genius who has gone into a third fucking printing, simply because I had the fucking wisdom to pad out the fucking word count of my fucking shitty novel with the word “fuck.”

Fuck me! You fucking books people are so fucking easy to fucking fool!

[12/28/24 UPDATE: A few readers who thought this little satirical piece was hilarious have pointed out that Jeff VanderMeer has won awards. And they are completely right. He did win the Nebula for Annihilation, proving that even a middling scumbag can win the rodeo if he angles his Stetson the right way. Thus, I have revised this slightly in the interest of accuracy.]