The problem with Michael Lewis is that, to me, his worldview rings false…

71y4yqkQjWLI’m reading Michael Lewis’ explication of the world of high-frequency trading, Flash Boys, and experiencing my typical issues with his work.

Let me just start out by admitting that I love Michael Lewis. I’ve read almost all of his substantive books (Liar’s Poker, The Big Short, Moneyball, The Blind Side). And they were all gripping and informative reads.

That being said, I have an intrinsic distrust of everything I read in his books, because they’re too personality-driven. The Michael Lewis formula is as follows: A) Find some complex and dramatic conflict within a field that people are interested in but don’t know much about (the management side of baseball, or the world of credit default swaps and subprime mortgages); B) Identify a group of people who are deeply involved in this world AND C) are willing to give you total access, and then D) make those people look like heroes.

That’s the problem with Lewis. The books always focus in on this one person or this one group of people who have the answers and who are doing everything absolutely right. And they’re opposed by a faceless group of bad guys: people who are on the wrong side of the issue.

There never really seems to be a trace of real journalism in Lewis’ books. For one thing, he never seems to have gone and spoken to the bad guys and gotten their side of the story. For another, he never appears to evaluate his good guys and figure out how good they really are. For instance, in The Blind Side, he never seriously asks: “Huh, would this black kid really have been adopted by this heroic family of white people if he hadn’t been such a good football prospect?”

Similarly, in his financial books, he never stops to think, “I know that I think my guys are on the right side of this issue, but is there any way in which they are doing something shady? Is there any way in which they are making money that they aren’t supposed to?”

And, finally, the biggest problem with Lewis is baked right into his world view. It’s that when you read his books, you come away thinking that the bad guys are stupid and the good guys are smart. You come away thinking that the world is full of heroic prophets who are leveraging so much intelligence and know-how to solve the world’s problems, and the bad guys are just a mindless horde that isn’t willing to look up for long enough to see that it’s going off a cliff.

But, ummm, I’m not sure that’s a healthy belief. What I’d say is that on any given day, in any given year, there are a ton of people who are predicting financial calamity for whatever reason. Most of those people are wrong. They lose their shirts. And they don’t get books written about them.

But if they, for whatever reason, are right, then Michael Lewis gives them the hagiographic treatment

What he never stops to consider though is, “Are these people really that special? Or are they just lucky?”

In the Lewis worldview, it’s not possible to be lucky in that way. Either you’re good and fantastically successful, or you’re bad. In his world, incompetent and immoral are synonyms. And that’s why the characters in his books always seem way too good to be true. For instance, the main character in Flash Boys is a Canadian banking executive who figures out what’s going on in the high-frequency trading world and then heroically eschews the temptation to make gobs of money and uses his information to try to protect people from the depredations of the flash traders.

And in order to do this, he assembles around himself a hardscrabble Irish tech guy who’s dreamed for years of entering the financial world (only to be repulsed by it once its doors open) and a former Bank of America product manager (the son of generations of firefighters) who only wants to work for a company that he can believe in and a Russian tech wizard who’s inspired by 9/11 to work on companies that are at the edge of crisis and etc etc etc

It’s too good to be true. No one is real. No one is motivated by pride or by money. They’re all either motivated by a desire to do good or out of an abstract techie idealism that draws them to solve the biggest problems that are available.

It’s a great story, but I know that at least part of it must be false (which inclines me to discount all of it).

Predictably Good Books (that I read in 2012), Part One

I feel like there’s no way to say “Pride and Prejudice was really good” without somehow indicating that you know it’s supposed to be good and that you’re not surprised it’s good. And that’s why this entry is titled “Predictably good books.”

_PnPPride and Prejudice by Jane Austen – I love Jane Austen. Before reading P&P, I’d read literally every other Jane Austen novel. But I had a mental block about the big P because it was the very first assigned-reading class (I was supposed to read it way back in 10th grade) that I just gave up on reading (beginning a long association with Cliff Notes). I really can’t say why I found this to be soooo boring when I was 16. But at age 26, I can tell you that this book is the bomb. It’s the only novel of hers, other than Emma, that’s reliably funny. Aside from the main triangle (Elizabeth Bennett, George Wickham, and Mr. Darcy) everyone in this book is hilarious, from the Liz’s overserious suitor Mr. Collins to her silly and clueless parents. And the book is well-plotted, too. The structure is interesting and interesting things happen. I don’t think there is anything about this novel that is not perfect. Well, except for Liz Bennett’s priggishness. Seriously, Jane Austen, I don’t understand why you hate dancing and joking around and having fun so much. Not since Mansfield Park (where the main character throws a huge fit because her cousins are putting on a play in their living room) have I been so mystified about what an Austen character’s problem is. Seriously, why is she down on her parents and her sisters? I guess that’s the curse of creating delightful comic characters—no one will believe you when you try to tell people that they are actually terrible and immoral people.

_SSSilent Spring by Rachel Carson – Yet another book I was supposed to read for class (during my junior year of college I took an English course called Visions of Ecology where we were assigned a ton of SF novels…the course probably would’ve been better if I’d actually done the reading…) But anyway, this is a really masterful document. Of course, you probably all know that this is a long tract about how pesticide spraying is killing tons of animals and probably causing cancer and stuff too. But, aside from the wonderfully ominous language, the interesting thing is how it’s structured. It doesn’t start off at the beginning, like most nonfiction books, by telling you, “This is the case I’m going to make.” And it doesn’t go from specific to general and then back to specific again. Instead, it’s this free-flowing impressionist mass of detail—die-offs and sprayings and extinctions are listed by the dozens—that are grouped in chapters according to some very intuitive progression. It’s a page-turner.

_MMMiddlemarch by George Eliot – This is a tome. I read it in Madrid and it took me a solid week. But it wasn’t difficult to get through. Each page is delightful. It doesn’t have the super-tedious stretches or the absurd plot elements that I’ve come to expect from Victorian novels, just page after page of good solid observation (and slightly outsized characters). Structurally, this novel kind of resembles Anna Karenina in that it’s about three pairs of lovers and contains one love triangle. The main love story, where Dorothea suffers through a marriage to the tedious priest Mr. Causubon was (while still interesting!) not the most fun part of the book. The other two plots, where Doctor Lydgate slowly has to sacrifice his intellectual ambitions in order to please his wife and where the feckless ne’er-do-well Fred Vincy has to shape up so he can marry his childhood sweetheart Mary Garth were, for me, the heart of the story. But there’s just so much stuff in here! It’s kind of amazing. For instance, it’s treatment of politics (all the characters have some interest in politics, and the capstone of one of its books is a very rough Parliamentary campaign) is one of the best I’ve seen (although it helps to do some Wikipedia reading so you know what bills and such they’re talking about). It’s kind of unbelievable how good this book is. I kind of want to reread it now.

_wwcwWhy We Can’t Wait by Martin Luther King, Jr – This is King’s account of the Birmingham Bus Boycott. It’s a wonderful document—a whole book written in that morally powerful voice that Kind perfected. The centerpiece of the book is King’s “Letter From Birmingham Jail” and a fairly large portion of the book is dedicated to taking down the black and white moderates who are urging him to wait and to proceed slowly in his crusade for justice. Personally, I love this kind of squabbling, especially when it’s set as such a historical remove that I can imagine myself on the right side.

_TBSThe Blind Side by Michael Lewis – I feel like I’ve mentioned this one a few times in the last few weeks. It’s Michael Lewis book about Michael Oher, an NFL tackle who came from a very rough background and was adopted by a white family whose mother was later portrayed by Sandra Bullock in the Oscar-winning film of the same name, etc. etc. This was the most purely enjoyable reading experiences that I had this year. There was nothing difficult about this book. It was the perfect mix of narrative and analysis. It’s like Malcolm Gladwell meets Tobias Wolff. The story of the movie The Blind Side actually forms maybe only about one third to one half of the book (and it’s much more fleshed out in the book, too, of course, especially since it contains much more of Michael Oher’s own voice and own story). The rest of the book is about the changes in the game of football that made someone like Michael Oher into such a valuable property. Now, I don’t know anything about football and I don’t really care about football at all, and I still loved this book. Sports are driven by numbers and economics in a way that’s different from almost every other field of human endeavor. And I love reading about that.

Surprisingly Good Books, Part Two

2017225833The Fault In Our Stars by John Green – This year, I’ve read a fair number of YA novels with contemporary settings, but this was one of the first of them. It was also the best. The novel’s triumph is its self-aware voice. The narrator is a teenager who’s suffering from cancer. And she’s a teenager who’s also read a ton of novels about teenagers who are suffering from cancer. As such, she knows exactly where and how her story is beginning to sound like the tear-stained narrative of a “cancer girl”. But, underneath the playful metatextuality, this novel is actually about a young girl who has cancer, and one who is mostly likely going to die quite young. Its playfulness allows it to avoid sentimentality and the typical easy answers, instead, it proceeds along in a jagged but very satisfying way. If you cry when you read books, there’s a not insignificant chance that this book will make you cry, but there’s more to it than that. There aren’t very many contemporary YA novels that rise above the formulas that they embrace. This one has so many of the formulas, but it also treats each page as something interesting and important. There’s a fullness in this book that you don’t find in many novels.

10778499-largeEscape From Camp 14 by Shin Dong-Hyuk and Blaine Harden – Alright, yes, there are two trashy nonfiction books about North Korea in this list. Didn’t I tell you that I loved NK in a way that is probably beginning to seem a bit creepy and perhaps problematic? So, in North Korea there is this huge network of prison camps in the northern mountains. Hundreds of thousands of people live in these camps. People are born in these camps and they die in these camps. You can get beaten to death pretty much whenever the guards in these camps feel like it. You gotta work all day doing horrendously dangerous stuff. You don’t get nearly enough food and the only way to survive is to suck up to the guards and inform on your friends and such. And only like ten people have ever escaped from the camps. This book is the memoir of one of those people (the memoir was narrated to Blaine Harden, a journalist, and Harden does considerable work in arranging and laying out the memoir, so I am crediting him as one of the authors). Shin Dong-Hyuk was born in Camp 14 and the camp was his whole world. When he escaped, he had only the vaguest conception of geography: he knew nothing about the United States or the Korean War. He’d never even been in the rest of North Korea. The tiny town near his camp looks, to him, like a bustling metropolis. But, nonetheless, he slowly makes his way to China, then to South Korea, then to the United States. And, meanwhile, he struggles with the things he had to do to survive. If you’re anything like me, you will feel like a terrible, exploitative person for enjoying this one. But it is soooo enjoyable.

odyssey-fitzgerald-translation-george-herbert-palmer-paperback-cover-artThe Odyssey by Homer (trans. Robert Fitzgerald) – Yes, I know, it makes me sound like a goober to say that the Odyssey was surprisingly good. But, check it, The Iliad is gooood, but it has also has numerous very boring parts: pages and pages and pages where “Hexachimeles, son of Xardes, of the mountains of Illymaches” lashes out with his spear against “Porythribes, son of Kallybdis, of the fair island of Scythinivax”. For whole chapters! And don’t even get me started on the processions and on the lines of long, black ships. I mean, all that stuff might’ve been interesting back in the day, when perhaps Porythribes was, like, your legendary great-great-granddad. But for modern people, it gets a bit much. But, there’s none of that in The Odyssey: It’s all story. And it’s fascinating to see how the story differs from our popular conception of it. Most media depictions of The Odyssey focus on the events of the sea voyage: encountering the sirens; fighting Polyphemus; captivity at the hands of the witches, Circe and Calypso. But that’s really only about 1/4th of the book. Most of the book is concerned with what happens after he comes home (hint, he kills a ton of people). And there’s also this fascinating counter-narrative, where his son sails around Greece and faces dangers and we learn how Agammemnon was killed by Clytemnestra. The book isn’t about adventures. It’s about homecomings. It’s filled with these strange homecomings that overshadow and parallel each other. All in all, it’s pretty fun times. Shorter than The Iliad too.

Liars-poker-free-ebookLiar’s Poker by Michael Lewis – You know, a lot of books on this list are memoirs. I understand why nonfiction sells so well. Memoir is just so satisfying. It doesn’t need to have quite as much thematic resonance. It can focus on the details of how things work. And then, at the end, you don’t necessarily need any big lesson other than, “Welp, that’s how things work.” This one is the first book by Michael Lewis (who went on to write Moneyball and The Blind Side and such). It details his four years as a bonds trader for Salomon Brothers in the 80s, during that flashy cocaine and yelling era so ably depicted by movies like Wall Street. I kind of feel like the primary reason that this book is popular is that it validates the lives of those of us who decided not to attempt to get a finance job (in my case, because I’m not willing to work 100 hours a week on anything [and that includes writing]). This book makes finance jobs seem terrible. Which is exactly what I like to believe about all high-status, high-paying professions. Is there a book out there that makes doctoring look terrible? I’d read that in a second. But aside from that, the book is a lot of fun. It also contains much technical (albeit probably out of date) detail on bond trading and the structure of financial firms. And a ton of interesting characters. This book started me on a Michael Lewis kick, and I have to say that I’ve enjoyed his books a lot. Moneyball, The Blind Side, and The Big Short are all well worth checking out.

Heroines-Kate_Zambreno-Fanzine-330Heroines by Kate Zambreno – Several blogs started talking about this book right as I was starting to feel a bit mopey about my writing career. After seeing Nick Mamatas’ review of it, I bought the book. It’s the memoir of a woman on the fringes of academic life. She leaves New York to follow her husband, a rare books librarian, to Akron and then to Raleigh-Durham. She does a bit of adjuncting here and there (mostly in Women’s Studies), but has no chance at getting a real appointment. She’s a writer of fictions, but her works are small-press and not terribly successful. She spends her days lying around the apartment and reading and not really doing much of anything else. And, woven through the above story, she free-associates about the women of modernist literature: Zelda Fitzgerald, Vivien Leigh, Jane Bowles, Djuna Barnes, and Virginia Woolf. She examines how their lives were shaped by their marriages and how their writing ambitions to suppressed by the cultural milieu. It’s a really fascination performance, and one that it’s difficult to describe in one paragraph. Throughout, the book reminded me most often of David Markson and the way that he can write entire books composed of one-paragraph facts about artists: the facts are carefully chosen, and they resonate in interesting subtextual ways.

Inaugurating Wrap-Up Season 2012 (oh, also, I watched the Blind Side!)

I am unapologetic in my love of all the yearly roundups that people post on their blogs at around this time of year, and ever since 2010, I’ve conducted my own month-long navel-gazing extravaganza called Wrap-Up Season. Typically, I begin by talking about the books I’ve read in the year. I divide these books into four categories: Predictably Good; Surprisingly Good; Books About Which I Have Mixed Feelings; and BAAAAAAAD (although somehow I never seem to get around to posting about the last category…that sort of thing just doesn’t enthuse me). Then I usually conduct some kind of blog round-up, looking at what kind of stuff I’ve posted in the last year. And finally, around December 20th (the day from which I date the beginning of my writing career), I write about the year’s writing statistics and accomplishments. Then, at the very end of the year, I post some personal stuff.

This year, I’m also thinking about posting a little (in a very nonspecific way) about my slush-reading gig (which is coming to a close), about my first semester of teaching, and about the MFA experience. So, yeah, that’s that. Here are links to my previous Wrap-Up Seasons. I think that this one will be the biggest and most complete of them all!


In other news, I watched The Blind Side yesterday. It was ermazing. And kind of a milestone for me, since it’s the first movie that I’ve completed in well over a year (I think the last time I watched a whole movie was when my brother and father and I made a family outing to Santa Barbara last Thanksgiving). Somehow, I’ve just lost the attention span for long-form audiovisual entertainment.

But I’d read the The Blind Side (by Michael Lewis) earlier in the year, and found it to be extremely excellent: one of the finest books I’ve read this year. And I love Sandra Bullock and tear-jerkers and inspirational sports movies. In fact, I love everything about sports (except watching sports games). Watching Sandra Bullock impersonate a gun-toting super Christian millionaire do-gooder was hilarious.

The Blind Side is my favorite kind of movie: the kind with no antagonist. There are no bad people in The Blind Side. There’s very little conflict of any sort, actually. The whole film is just about well-meaning people trying to reach out to this very closed-off young man.

I understand why people see this movie as having weird racial undertones. There is some really weird stuff going on here. For instance, the subject of the film–Michael Oher–is literally silent throughout most of the film. He does not speak. He is mostly ventriloquized by Sandra Bullock’s tough (but empathetic) character. Obviously, this is kind of a problem. Additionally, he’s portrayed as something of a tabula rasa. He’s a Lenny–a huge child (in fact, his deepest connection is with the Bullock character’s 9 year old son)–who is slowly filled up with knowledge and manners and even athletic skills by the savvy people who surround him.

In the book, these elements were not quite as overwhelming, because the primary story of the book was about how a person with little-to-no football experience can suddenly, after just a few high school games, come to be seen, by virtue of his outstanding physicality, as one of the year’s hottest recruiting prospects. That’s not really how it’s supposed to work: big guys are supposed to be a dime-a-dozen; it’s the training and the mental game and the discipline that’re supposed to raise them above the herd. But at least as it’s written in the book, it seems like being really big and really strong and really fast is enough, by itself, for Oher to be really exciting to a whole bunch of coaches.

Anyway, that’s not really what the movie is about. The movie is kind of poverty porn. It’s about how crazy it is that there can be a kid who no one cares about, who doesn’t even have a foster family, who has completely slipped through every crack, and who is completely adrift at age sixteen. Oh yeah, and it’s about exploiting the sheer visual craziness of his adoption by a family of white millionaires.

But…umm…well…it’s kind of impossible to justify this movie.

Still, it was really fun to watch.