My latest Guardian column, “Adult content filters can’t replace good parenting,” is a critique of the media coverage of Britain’s new national “adult content” filter. The reporting on this story all led with uncritical repetition of the government’s line that this would block “all adult content” — nevermind that no two people agree on a definition of “adult content” and even if they did, the filter would inevitably miss loads of “adult content” and block lots of stuff that wasn’t “adult.”
Presenting a parent who is trying to keep their children safe with the question: “Would you like to block all adult content on your internet connection?” is terribly misleading, designed to play on parental fears and bypass critical judgement. Better to ask: “Would you like us to block some pornography (but not all of it), and a lot of other stuff, according to secret blacklists composed by anonymous third-party contractors who have been known to proudly classify photos of Michaelangelo’s David as ‘nudity?'”
It’s simplistic to say that governments should abide by the principle “do no harm”, but it’s perfectly reasonable to demand that policies should at least do some good. When our national information policy is turned over to anonymous, unaccountable censorware vendors, we fail to deliver a safe online environment for our children and we undermine our own free access to information. It’s a lose-lose proposition.
As a parent, I worry about what my kid finds on the net. At three and a half, my daughter is already old enough to drive a little tablet and check out cartoons on YouTube. Just the other day, I heard some odd dialogue emerging from across the sofa, and I had a peek at my daughter’s screen. To my surprise, I found that she had discovered a little interlinked pocket of aggressive, kid-targeted Barbie adverts, uploaded by the official Mattel account, masterfully wrought pester-power timebombs designed to convert my kid into a nagging doll-acquisition machine. What’s more, my kid had heretofore only watched ripped DVDs, YouTube cartoons, and CBeebies and had literally never seen a video advert before.
I’ve just put up the site for my latest book, a slim chapbook in PM Press’s Outspoken Authors series called The Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow. The book contains a novella (“There’s a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow/Now is the Best Time of Your Life”), an essay on futurism, the transcript of a lecture on copyright and creativity, and a wide-ranging interview with Terry Bisson. As with all my books, it’s available as a CC-licensed download in a number of formats, and I’m looking for libraries and schools who’d like free hardcopies bought for them from downloaders who want to pay me back for the ebooks. I really like how this little book came out, and it’s as good an introduction to my work and beliefs as you’re likely to find.
Review:
Kirkus Reviews
He’s got the modern world, in all its Googled, Friendstered and PDA-d glory, completely sussed.
Kirkus Reviews
Review:
Montreal Gazette
Doctorow shows us life from the point-of-view of the plugged-in generation and makes it feel like a totally alien world.
Montreal Gazette
Review:
Publishers Weekly
Doctorow demonstrates how memorably the outrageous and the everyday can coexist.
Publishers Weekly
Review:
NYT
Doctorow uses science fiction as a kind of cultural WD-40, loosening hinges and dissolving adhesions to peer into some of society’s unlighted corners.
New York Times
I was delighted an honored to be invited to join PM Press’s roster of Outspoken Authors, a collection of slim volumes of fiction, argument, and dialogue from writers who indulge in a little polemic with our fiction.
I’m often asked whether I see myself as an activist first, or a science fiction writer. I don’t see much of a meaningful distinction. Science fiction writers are rotten at predicting the future (our track record is about the same as you’d get by throwing darts into a pitch-black Olympic stadium carpetted with futuristic predictions generated by Markoff chains). But we’re all of us trying to influence the future, or the present, or our view of the past. Writing about humanity’s relationship with technology is an activist pursuit, because it requires that you take a stand on how things really are, or ought to be. We live in a technological society, and it is impossible to write about technological change without writing about social change.
So here’s my contribution to the world of Outspoken Authordom — a novella, an essay, and an interview. They’re as good an introduction to my work and sensibility as you’re likely to find. I hope you’ll enjoy them — and consider joining the fight for the future.
Here’s a reading of my essay Saying Information Wants to Be Free Does More Harm Than Good, just reprinted in my second essay collection Context: Further Selected Essays on Productivity, Creativity, Parenting, and Politics in the 21st Century.
Mastering by John Taylor Williams: wryneckstudio@gmail.com
John Taylor Williams is a full-time self-employed audio engineer, producer, composer, and sound designer. In his free time, he makes beer, jewelry, odd musical instruments and furniture. He likes to meditate, to read and to cook.
Two bits of glad tidings: first, Charlie Stross announces that we’ve turned in the manuscript for our collaborative, post-Singularity comic novel Rapture of the Nerds; second, my agent Russ Galen has sold Homeland, the sequel to my 2008 novel Little Brother, to Tor, in “a significant deal.”
