“Sean, go ahead order whatever you like. Let me recommend the corned beef on brioche.”
“Frank, I hear a small still voice whispering that you’re not going to publish ‘Subjugated’ after all.”
“Well…”
“You son-of-a-bitch!”
“Sean, listen…“
“No, you listen, Frank. A fortnight ago you sent me an email that the piece had been accepted by the board. Later that day you also left a long message on my phone, praising the article, a truly thought-provoking story if ever there was one.”
“Well, turns out, it’s not a good fit.”
“So why the sudden change of heart?”
“It’s way too political for us. ‘Subjugated’ is clearly about brainwashing, obviously not an issue in America. First Amendment, ring the bell? So at a minimum it’s misplaced paranoia. Maybe leftwing political propaganda, which I would not put past you either. It’s definitely no literary work. My job in the publishing business is to attract talent who’d write nice poems, interesting stories, creative essays. I don’t court controversy, especially the wrong kind. It’s lose-lose.”
“Okay, Frank, you’ve just convinced me that self-censorship is the rule, not the exception.”
“Free country, believe whatever you want. We have thousands of readers, most expecting to get a respite from the daily hurly-burly when they sit down to read in the evening or on weekend. They want their minds to freely travel to a nicer world for an hour or so.”
“No, there’s no nicer world, especially considering the Thought Police is trying to bombard our so-called free minds day in, day out.”
“Sean, you’re wrong, of course, but why would I want to attract unnecessary attention? Especially now that a bunch of academicians, journalists, artists got blacklisted in one fell swoop.”
“I am getting a headache here, Frank. You know what, I don’t give a shit, I just send ‘Subjugated’ somewhere else.”
“Good luck with that. I bet they’ll reject it one by one, and more or less for the same reason; it’s too political and lacks literary content. Unless you find a libertarian- socialist or nativist publication, the subversive kind that only the FBI reads.”
“Then I’ll send it to Canada, how about that?”
“Why not to the Ministry of Truth? The Canadian version of free speech is that scores of small businesses have lost their licenses for mischaracterizing customers’ gender.”
“Okay, England then.”
“Ever read the news? A couple years ago it took a single phone call to the Labour party headquarters to fire Corbyn and Ken Livingstone. One call and their asses were grass.”
“Was that a local call or international?”
“It was certainly not a prank call.”
“Fascinating. Okay then, I’m going to submit ‘Subjugated’ to an Australian lit-mag.”
“Really? To the kangaroo people? You know they spend their entire existence upside down? The Earth is spherical and gravity’s doing its thing. Why do you think those Aussies have to sleep on their stomachs?”
“Frank, I hear a small still voice whispering that you’re not going to publish ‘Subjugated’ after all.”
“Well…”
“You son-of-a-bitch!”
“Sean, listen…“
“No, you listen, Frank. A fortnight ago you sent me an email that the piece had been accepted by the board. Later that day you also left a long message on my phone, praising the article, a truly thought-provoking story if ever there was one.”
“Well, turns out, it’s not a good fit.”
“So why the sudden change of heart?”
“It’s way too political for us. ‘Subjugated’ is clearly about brainwashing, obviously not an issue in America. First Amendment, ring the bell? So at a minimum it’s misplaced paranoia. Maybe leftwing political propaganda, which I would not put past you either. It’s definitely no literary work. My job in the publishing business is to attract talent who’d write nice poems, interesting stories, creative essays. I don’t court controversy, especially the wrong kind. It’s lose-lose.”
“Okay, Frank, you’ve just convinced me that self-censorship is the rule, not the exception.”
“Free country, believe whatever you want. We have thousands of readers, most expecting to get a respite from the daily hurly-burly when they sit down to read in the evening or on weekend. They want their minds to freely travel to a nicer world for an hour or so.”
“No, there’s no nicer world, especially considering the Thought Police is trying to bombard our so-called free minds day in, day out.”
“Sean, you’re wrong, of course, but why would I want to attract unnecessary attention? Especially now that a bunch of academicians, journalists, artists got blacklisted in one fell swoop.”
“I am getting a headache here, Frank. You know what, I don’t give a shit, I just send ‘Subjugated’ somewhere else.”
“Good luck with that. I bet they’ll reject it one by one, and more or less for the same reason; it’s too political and lacks literary content. Unless you find a libertarian- socialist or nativist publication, the subversive kind that only the FBI reads.”
“Then I’ll send it to Canada, how about that?”
“Why not to the Ministry of Truth? The Canadian version of free speech is that scores of small businesses have lost their licenses for mischaracterizing customers’ gender.”
“Okay, England then.”
“Ever read the news? A couple years ago it took a single phone call to the Labour party headquarters to fire Corbyn and Ken Livingstone. One call and their asses were grass.”
“Was that a local call or international?”
“It was certainly not a prank call.”
“Fascinating. Okay then, I’m going to submit ‘Subjugated’ to an Australian lit-mag.”
“Really? To the kangaroo people? You know they spend their entire existence upside down? The Earth is spherical and gravity’s doing its thing. Why do you think those Aussies have to sleep on their stomachs?”
