The article notes that linguistic "Machine learning revealed that J.K. Rowling, the creator of Harry Potter, had written the 2013 mystery “Cuckoo’s Calling” under another pen name. The F.B.I. used a form of stylometry to show that Ted Kaczynski was the Unabomber. In recent years, such techniques have helped detectives in the United States and Britain solve murder cases involving a forged suicide note and faked text messages."
You can read the full, fascinating article here. (Completely tangential side note: Though I haven't read any of the Harry Potter books, I have read all four of Rowling's 'Cameron Strike' mystery novels that began with Cuckoo's Calling, and they've been excellent. A little weak on the convoluted resolutions, but other than that, they're terrific. Very well-done British TV movies have been made of them all. They occasionally show up on premium cable, but I also think they've available on Hulu.)
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New York Times reporter Maggie Haberman has a new book about to be published, Confidence Man. And one of the revelations that’s been made public is that when Trump was in the White House, he would occasionally flush documents in the toilet.
This story has caused outrage across social media. The thing is, though, the outrage is not at Trump, but at Maggie Haberman. (Insert deep and heavy sigh here.) The outrage at her is because supposedly she knew about this crime and failed to report it, holding onto the story until she could put it in her book, thereby making her as much a criminal. The reaction directed at Maggie Haberman has been beyond all reason, and I've gnashed my teeth and twisted my fingers at each new Tweet being posted. I’ve tried answering a few, but not only are there too many gnats to swat away, but each response tends to get multiply replies back smalling me in return. So, I've picked my spots when to dive in. That's because every once in a while, a few Tweets stood out that were simply too much for me to let fly by. Those cases were either because the person had a level of responsibility and should know better, or the comment had received far too many Likes and Retweets, or…well, it was just too mind-numbing to let stand as if it made sense. One, for example, wrote -- “I think Maggie Haberman should be prosecuted for being an accessory after the fact. She knew about a crime of national significance and kept it secret. Writing a book now doesn't make it legal to conceal a crime earlier.” What I replied was that If one ACTUALLY thinks this, hopefully they will rethink it. Putting the First Amendment aside (which is a lot to put aside), Maggie Haberman wasn't a witness to the events, she's just reporting what she was told happened – and happened at least a year earlier. Which therefore wouldn’t even be inadmissible in court. Further, being only TOLD about it, she is not even a witness. For that matter, we don’t even know what “it” is, other than just torn up paper flushed in a toilet – which, on that level only, is not a crime. Just something suspicious, worth looking into. Moreover, separate from when the event occurred, this outraged crimebuster doesn’t have the slightest idea when Maggie Haberman was told about it. Perhaps, for all he knows, it was something she learned only a few months ago, long after the fact. She did not commit a crime. She is not going to be prosecuted. And she should not be. And to think she should be is seriously misguided. Which is the polite word. When my friend Don Friedman (who actually is a lawyer and doesn’t just play one on social media) saw this back-and-forth, he jumped in and added some important points on top of it all. Saying, “And -- neither she nor we know for a fact whether what was being flushed were government documents he had a duty to preserve. There's a lot of faux outrage at journalists holding small anecdotes for their books. Real time disclosures of these things wouldn't have changed anything.” Another social media comment that caught my eye enough to respond was something much shorter, pithy, in fact, yet impressively was just as empty in only six words -- “Maggie Haberman is a national disgrace.” I wrote back that given Trump, given the GOP, given the RNC calling January 6 a "legitimate political discourse," given the insurrectionists, the white supremacists, the anti-vaxxers, the anti-maskers and given, too, that Maggie Haberman in fact did report what she was told by a third party happened at least a year beforehand -- we have a very different view what a “national disgrace” is. There’s a phrase known as “Keep your eyes on the prize.” This “outrage!!!” at Maggie Haberman not only doesn’t have its eyes on the prize of Trump's crimes looming up from the miasma, it has created a false outrage where one doesn’t exist. Yes, I understand people wishing that Ms. Haberman had reported the story the moment it happened. But not only is that not journalism and publishing works, and not only would the third-party story she was told have less meaning as a newspaper item out of context of the full book, and not only was what she was told not for certain an actual crime…but one could argue that the story coming out right now just days after the Washington Post has broken the story of Trump taking material from the White House to Mar-a-Lago and ripping some of it up, and when there is now a House Select Committee investigating it all, the release of her reporting today may have significantly more importance than if it had been reported as a slight, random anecdote whenever she learned of it (perhaps six months ago or whenever) without any context. And more to the point, if not most to the point, I would suggest that even if people truly feel Ms. Haberman should have reported the anecdote the moment she heard it, their outraged fury at Maggie Haberman detracts attention from what’s actually important about the whole event – which is not “when” Maggie Haberman reported Trump tearing up paper and flushing it, but that…Trump tore up paper and flushed it! Getting outraged at Maggie Haberman, rightly or wrongly (and it’s wrongly) to the point of calling it a crime, a national disgrace and she should be prosecuted divides the focus where it all should be. All of it. On Trump. Saying that you wish that Maggie Haberman had reported the story when she heard it told to her is a fair opinion (though as I noted above, doing so likely would have had significantly-less impact than her reporting it now). But this outrage that explodes at seemingly the same level (let alone even remotely close to the same level) of Trump’s possibly-criminal actions that may have been to hide treasonous actions is not fair, but rather it's wrong, divisive, misplaced and counter-productive. And that, in a word, is stupid. What I sense is that not only have the claustrophobic realities of the pandemic for two years put added pressures on society, but when that overlaps with anger and concern about an insurrection to overthrow democracy, then that outrage needs an outlet to vent. And if one can’t do something about Trump, you can take it out at whoever gets in our way. Which today is Maggie Haberman. If so, I totally get it. But that doesn’t make it any less wrong, divisive, misplaced, counter-productive and wrong. And it will happen again. And again. A few weeks back, I wrote here about the new BBC production of Around the World in 80 Days running on PBS. I explained my love for the Jules Verne novel and the Oscar-winning Best Picture, and my wariness about this new adaptation which appeared to have little to do with the source material, other than the title and the names of a few of the characters (even if they changed who those characters were, like making Inspector Fix – who’s tracking Phileas Fogg, mistaking him for a bank robber – into “Miss Fix,” a newspaper reporter who joins the expedition to write about it).
It was all written before I’d seen one second of footage, and so my opinion was absolutely premature. That didn’t make it wrong, though it didn’t make it right. Just an early "This is what my perception is" kind of thing. I got into some discussion with others about this. They were defending the series – again, not having seen it either – making the point that it’s fair to adapt stories in their own unique ways, and this sounded interesting to them. And in part, I completely agreed with them. It is fair to adapt stories in their own unique ways. But when doing so, you still have to keep the foundation of what the story is, who its characters are at their foundation (it would be fine, for instance, to make Inspector Fix a women, as long as she's someone, not even necessarily a detective, tracking Phileas Fogg) and the underlying point of it all. Otherwise, why adapt that story and why call it that same title. If you want to tell a story with a similar starting premise but then goes off in a totally different direction and tells a separate story that overlaps the original in various ways – that’s fine. And it can even be a wonderful, rich tale of its own. For instance, the classic movie Western Red River is loosely based on Mutiny on the Bounty. (This isn’t my opinion, in the book The Screenwriter Looks at the Screenwriter by my grad school professor Bill Froug, one of the interviews quotes the writer of the film saying that.) They changed to the story and the characters completely, but the foundation of it all is the same – a cruel boss of a cattle drive gets so out of hand that his young second-in-command leads an uprising, and they throw the boss off. At which point he vows revenge. And all that is fair – and the resulting film is brilliant. But they didn’t call it Mutiny on the Bounty. The science-fiction thriller Outland with Sean Connery is about a Federal Marshall at a prison colony on one of Jupiter's moon, he uncovers an uprising but no one will help him. It's obviously based on High Noon. But called Outland. The movie Notting Hill is very-inspired by Roman Holiday. But they went off in their own direction and made a very different movie. Which wasn’t called Roman Holiday. Because – it wasn’t Roman Holiday. There are a great many other examples, but you get the point. I have no problem with adapting a story differently and making it your own. I just have a problem with telling a different story and calling it the same as the original, just to cash in on the fame of the original title. I thought that might be the case with this new eight-part Around the World in 80 Days – but didn’t know. And to be fair, I did check it out. It’s an absolutely beautifully-made production. Rich, vibrant and expansive. And the acting is very good, especially David Tennant in the lead as Phileas Fogg. And it tells a perfectly interesting story. It just isn’t Around the World in 80 Days. It has different characters and tells its own story, focusing more on the personal problems each of the main three characters have – Phileas Fogg, his manservant Passepartout (who here seems to be the brother of a black revolutionary) and “Miss Fix,” the reporter. And the story appears to be about how they each deal with their personal demons to get past them. And that’s perfectly legitimate and can be interesting (and is, in parts). It’s just not Around the World in 80 Days. By the way, having said this, they actually have a moderately-interesting storyline with the new “Miss Fix” character and her participation on the journey writing about it for the newspaper. Her character is clearly based – not on anything in Jules Verne – but the real-life reporter Nellie Bly. In the 19th century, not long after the Verne novel was published, she set out to see if she could beat the fictional “record” of Phileas Fogg and travel around the world herself in fewer than 80 days -- all the while filing newspaper reports back home. And she succeeded, though I forget how long it took her (I read a fascinating biography of her years ago), but I think it was about 76 days. At the time that I read the biography, I thought her life would make a wonderful film and even considered adapting her life story and various remarkable adventures into a film. I couldn’t get a handle on it to my satisfaction, so didn’t go forward. But I’ve still always thought that her story should be a wonderful. And there’s a touch of that here, although she’s not the driving character. But a movie or mini-series about Nellie Bly in full – or about her effort to go around the world in 79 days would be an absolutely valid, wonderful thing to try. But it wouldn’t be called Around the World in 80 Days. In fairness, amid my reaction to all this, I’ve recorded the weekly episodes, and find myself fast-forwarding through much of them. That means I’m not seeing the full thing, of course. But the reason I’m not seeing the full thing is because I find it a bit tedious and annoying. And that’s the other thing – why I find it somewhat tedious. If they want to tell a different story, that’s one thing. But you still have to tell it well. In the novel and movie (and other filmed adaptations I’ve seen), the core of the story is always the ticking clock. Those 80 days. Phileas Fogg has to get around the world in 80 days to win his bet and to prove it can be done, that science has actually progressed to that point. So, everything that happens in the story is pulling you on, relentlessly. Even when they have to make a tangent side adventure – like to save Princess Aouda, or they get separated and need to somehow find each other again – it’s always with the awareness that the clock is ticking. Always. Always. And it’s what gets the reader anxiously turning the page, or watching with excitement, caught up in "Will he make it??!". So, every action has a meaning, even when it gets them off the track. In this new “adaptation,” the trip around the world is secondary. Occasionally they mention how many days they’re in. And that, oh, we have to make our connection up ahead. But it’s almost off-handed, not what’s driving them. In episode four, we even find out that Fogg doesn’t even especially care about the bet or to prove it can be done, he has a different motivation. And Passepartout is always thinking of leaving because he has other, more important revolutionary interests. And “Miss Fix” just wants to write a story, whatever happens – and even that later changes directions. So, if the main characters don’t care much if they make it “around the world in 80 days” – why should the viewer? And if we don’t care about that, the only thing left to care about are these characters, who – while I’m sure they’ll grow and change and get over their angsts – for the longest time are pretty annoying. And without a clock ticking, driving it all, they’re just meandering. I mention this all here because I recorded yesterday's fifth episode – out of eight – and later that night, I realized that I just don’t care about what’s going on. And so right now I have no expectation of watching it. I’ll tune back in for the final episode, to see how they finish the series. And maybe, possibly might watch the penultimate episode to see how they set up the finale – though maybe not, we’ll see. But even that that, I’m wary. Because I read that they’re planning a Season Two. Wait, hunh? A Season Two? That either means they don’t finish the trip around the world this year – which if that’s the case, would have been seriously bothered to have watched eight hours only to find out it won’t conclude for another year – or they do finish (which I expect) but then have another adventure. But…another adventure? What else will they do?? Clearly they have an idea, and it may be a great one...or not. But the main characters just did what was thought “impossible” – traveled around the world in 80 days? What other adventure will they take to expand that? Perhaps, because the next series will not have the 80-day ticking clock, but will focus instead on the characters, they’ll just have a new story that has the characters building on that. Which is..whatever, fine. But it will hardly be Around the World in 80 Days II. It’ll be…something else completely. (Oddly, if I do decide to tune in, I can surprisingly see myself enjoying a Second Season, weird as that may seem, more than this current production – since a continuation, despite the galling title, will clearly have absolutely nothing to do with Jules Verne and no pretense that it does.) As I said, this series is beautifully produced, well-acted and has an interesting perspective that sometimes works very well – and sometimes falls flat. What I also find, beyond being bothered that they call this Around the World in 80 Days when it’s instead telling its own story with different characters separate from Jules Verne, is that overall how they’re telling their story is too tedious for my taste. I can see some people enjoying this production for what it is and not being bothered that it is not actually Around the World in 80 Days and purloined that title to grab their eyeballs. But that is not me. On this week’s episode of 3rd and Fairfax, the official podcast of the Writers Guild of America, the guests are developers-showrunners Dan Dworkin & Jay Beattie (whose works include The Crossing and Matador. They talk about about bringing Dan Brown’s novel The Lost Symbol to the TV screen for Peacock’s new action-adventure series. This was the third in the series of Brown’s novels featuring Robert Langdon that began with The Da Vinci Code. On a totally personal note, I have a few comments about the book. (To repeat, this is about the book, not the mini-series adaptation.) As it happens, I accidentally read the book out of order, and instead read Inferno (which was subsequently made into a movie) before this. That’s just as well, because The Lost Symbol was the first of his Langdon books that I totally hated. To be clear, there’s much of the story that I thought was terrific and wonderfully adventurous, full of fun puzzles. But it veers off in certain directions that were, for me, so head-numbingly unbelievable – even in a Dan Brown World where you suspend disbelief for the pure fun of it – that they had me rolling my eyes, gritting my teeth and snarling. So much so that I lost interest in the book series, and didn’t read the latest, Origins. In fact, had I read them in order, I suspect that I wouldn’t have read Inferno. Actually, it was lucky I read Inferno out of order because, while I generally enjoyed it a lot throughout, I hated the ending – indeed I hated the ending so much that I only saw the movie after being assured by a friend who saw it that the filmmakers showed great wisdom and changed the end. In this podcast Dworkin & Beattie say they did make changes for The Lost Symbol, as well, throughout the production, though I don’t know about what, whether it's the things I thought were so awful or just others things for structural reasons. To be fair, and to acknowledge that this is all personal taste, the interviewer on the podcast enthuses that The Lost Symbol is his favorite book in the series. (Go figure…) I look forward to hearing from others who watch the series how this adaptation is different from the book. Though even if they fixed every one of the problems (to me), I still haven’t decided if I’ll watch. (For those specifically interested in conversation about the adaptation, that begins around the 24-minute mark.) I know this is tangential to the podcast here, but…well, I hated the book so much I thought it worth adding.
On this week’s Al Franken podcast, his guest is Atlantic Monthly’s Adam Serwer. They discuss his book about the Trump Administration: The Cruelty is the Point. As Al writes, “Separating kids from their parents at the border? Mocking a disabled journalist? Cutting food stamps? The Cruelty is the Point!”
Apparently there are two different versions of the audiobooks for the Harry Potter series. I was aware of Jim Dale reading the books, but apparently that's just for the American market. But it seems that Stephen Fry does the audiobooks for the series in England. The only thing I can figure is that Fry has a more low-key style that they figure fits young British readers better. Or not. (If you don't know his work, for years the very erudite Fry was partnered with Hugh Laurie as a comedy team -- not doing standup bits, but sketch comedy and a series about Jeeves and Bertie Wooster based on the P.G. Wodehouse Jeeves books.) This is simply a funny story that Fry tells (wonderfully) about doing the audio books for Harry Potter. I came across it by accident over the weekend. It’s all great fun, but there’s a point to it that’s a hoot, which you will love. I don’t want to give it away. |
AuthorRobert J. Elisberg is a political commentator, screenwriter, novelist, tech writer and also some other things that I just tend to keep forgetting. Feedspot Badge of Honor
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