Michael Marshall | Smith

It strikes me that I haven’t crapped tediously on about copyright theft for a while, which must be a disappointment to all of you. Luckily a trigger has dropped into my lap in the shape of a friend letting me know that yet another site had all my books up on it.

The site was ebookr.com. Go check it out. It’s a nice-looking, cheery, friendly little website. Their tagline declares “We love ebooks”. Maybe they do. They also evidently love charging people to download, but don’t so much love bothering about the fact they’re trading in things that don’t belong to them.

What happens when you discover some new bunch of pirate gobknobs has stolen your booty? There’s no email address on the site (which might seem odd, surely, in such a fresh-faced and approachable place), but there is a form. So I used it, and asked them to take my work down. Five days later I hadn’t heard back. Surprise surprise. I knew what would happen if they did eventually reply, because in this game of whack-a-mole it’s the same story every time. They’ll refer you to their DMCA page. In case you’re wondering, here are the kind of hoops you have to jump through:

What information do we need in a DMCA Notice?
A properly formatted DMCA Notice will adhere to the guidelines and principals established by the DMCA itself. The necessary elements of a properly formed DMCA Notice are:
1. Clear identification of the person or entity submitting the DMCA Notice.
2. Clearly stated relationship to the copyright holder (self or authorized agent).
3. A specific listing of all content the DMCA Notice is requesting eBookr take down. Please keep in mind some content is posted multiple times and each instance will need to be specifically referenced.
4. Clear statement, under penalty of perjury, that the information in the notification is accurate and that you are copyright holder, or authorized to act on behalf of the copyright holder.
5. A “physical or electronic signature” of an authorized person to act on behalf of the owner. This is fulfilled by a name and a physical address that the authorized individual can be contacted should someone wish to contest your notification.
6. While not legally required by the DMCA, including “copyright violation” in the subject line of your email will flag your DMCA Notice and bypass spam categorization.
7. Submit the Notice to dmca (at) ebookr.com.

Yep. Not only do you have to prove you’re the author, but you’re required to reference every occasion on which some ‘sharing’ tossfrot has uploaded your book – despite the fact that someone must have written the bloody things, so it’s pretty obvious that someone’s copyright has been infringed, no? Notice the brazen assumption of the moral high ground, too – meanwhile huffily warning you not to commit the crime of perjury. Nice.

In the end I notified the publisher of the novels in question, and they set their legal department on them. My books were taken down. But you don’t have to look hard to find them on other sites…

And so?

Partially in response to my rather inflamatory post on SOPA, the very excellent Megan Lindholm proposed that instead of excessive measures like the bill, people should hound sites like these in a kind of grass roots protest, shaming them into behaving differently. It’s a lovely idea, but my suspicion is it simply wouldn’t happen. And note again how there’s no email address on the ebookr site: this is a deliberate policy, because it makes it just hard enough that most people won’t bother (and it also makes the site impossible to mailbomb).

So. What do you think? What can or should be done about this? Would you be willing to try to take a site like this down, or at least shake it gently by the throat until it stopped this kind of behaviour? Do you actually care? I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t, to be honest — it’s not your stuff. And that’s the reason sites like this do, and will always, exist… and they’ll get smarter, too, and use chirpy graphic design to portray themselves as hip and friendly and got-t0-be-legit, to the point where some people may not even realise they’re trading in stolen goods. With a place called ‘The Pirate Bay’, it’s pretty obvious. With these guys — and others, like Scribd — it’s down to you to remember that we’re still labouring under a capitalist model where people kinda want to get paid for what they own.

In the end…

And this is the reason I keep banging on about this stuff. It’s not just about grouchy authors trying to make sure they get the pennies that are owed. It’s about the fact that we’re still taking early steps into a truly new type of environment, and need to keep an eye on the changes we’re blithely accepting in our world. Are we okay with Google and Facebook having total and lasting access to everything we say and do and click? Are we comfortable with the way in which the Internet often makes it so easy to forget that we’re dealing with real — albeit distant — others, making people so rude or assumptive the whole damned time? With a little search savvy I can find out what you paid for your house, who your friends are, where your kids go to school, where your sister likes to hang out (she Foursquared and Instagrammed twice from 57 Bottles on Main twice this week, and the second time she was kind of drunk, I should know, I made sure to sit near to her) — are you fine with that? You are? That’s fine. Just checking. I’m not saying the Internet is evil. I’m just saying let’s keep our eyes open and not simply say ‘yes’ to everything just because it’s convenient; because it’s nicely-designed; because it’s (apparently) free.

This latest episode has at least helped me to ratify a personal position on copyright theft, which is to try to stop caring about it. If you want, you can do a search and find my books on similar “social sharing” sites, or stealeasys (not a real word, I’ve just made it up) like FileSonic, and have the lot for free. It’s up to you, in the end. It’s always up to all of us. I choose to believe the majority out there are honest – because I know that’s true. So, you know, I’m, like, totally chilled about it.

Though if you feel like retweeting to the effect that ebookr.com are assholes… then, well, I’m not going to stop you.

And in the meantime, here’s a probably naive thought toward another grass roots accommodation to our new world. It’s up to you whether you download my books for free (or someone else’s music, or TV show, or software). Your call. But if you do, maybe you could at least give a couple of bucks to a charity for something you do care about, or overtip your next underpaid waitress, or drop a coin in the broken-down busker’s hat even if he’s really not any good. Though I guess if FREE is so important to you, you’re going to be tight-fisted with cash across the board. So maybe let someone else take the last seat on the bus instead, or give an extra stroke to the next cat you encounter…

… but do something, yes? If you can’t tell the difference between right and wrong, I can’t help you with that. But it’d be nice if you gave something back.

I knew my last post would be deeply unpopular in some quarters (though, to be fair, it also had strident support, and not just from people in creative professions). I got a lot of irate tweets, and lost followers. I’ll live. The piece’s potential unpopularity was kind of why I posted it, rather than getting it out of my system and leaving the file safely on my hard disk.

I didn’t do it to be provocative, but to be honest.

It’s extremely easy – especially in popularity contests and profile-conscious opportunities like Twitter – to always play to the crowd, stay safe, not antagonise the demographic. Pretending you always agree with the unconsidered zeitgeist is easy. But kind of empty, surely? If you’re going to say stuff, then mean it. Otherwise remaining silent is a more honourable course – except, of course, for the fact it may be taken as tacit approval of what everyone else is saying, however dim that may be. It’s a minefield. So I posted, and now some people evidently think I’m a stooge of Old Business and the Federal Government, and an active supporter of the worst forms of Censorship (It’s not entirely clear to me how cracking down on theft counts as “censorship”, but that’s because I’m a stooge of the etc, etc).

For the avoidance of doubt, I’m not for SOPA, okay? I’m simply disenchanted with some of the reasons people have for opposing it. If you’ve read the bill (including the revisions) and have strong arguments and/or reasons for opposing it, you have my respect. If not… I’m just saying think about it first. Don’t just press ME TOO. And while I’m on the subject, if you’re so in favour of WikiPedia, you might want to donate something toward it, eh? See the button at the bottom of the right-hand column on this page. Even “free” things cost somebody something, somewhere. Their time, their effort, their love. They give. You can too.

Anyway. Allied to all this, it’s struck me this afternoon how the Internet is changing the meaning of a couple of words – and how these speak to this overall debate.

1. “Contains”
As in “This software may contain profanity, adult themes, violence, nudity, etc”. Seen most often with browsers, Craigslist apps, and anything that accesses the Internet.

But the thing is… the software doesn’t contain these things, really. If the web browser had drop-down menus featuring swear words, or popped up a dialog box every ten minutes showing a picture of people shagging, then it would “contain” these things. But it doesn’t. It merely provides a window onto a world in which these things pre-exist. It’s interesting that the software is being held to account here – like blaming a sheet of glass for standing between you and an atrocity. It may seem like I’m splitting hairs, but to me this usage covertly implies it’s not the web or its users which should be held responsible for the content of the Internet or the the way people use it. The Internet’s in the clear – perfect and true and blameless. So are the internauts. It’s the naughty software that does the wrong.

I’m really not sure this is true, and I think it’s indicative of the way the Internet and some of its users hold themselves unaccountable for both their content and their actions.

2. “Free”
This word now apparently means ‘it is possible to acquire this good or service without paying for it’. Here’s an example, just in this morning:

http://blog.karachicorner.com/2012/01/35-high-quality-free-fonts/

It’s a useful blog and you see this kind of thing all over the web (and I picked up the link via the venerable www.iconfactory.com), but to me it neatly encapsulates a key schism in the way people respond to the availability of resources on the Internet. A number of the faces featured in this list (and others of its kind) are available from www.losttype.com, an excellent site where designers showcase interesting new work for sale on a pay-what-you-like basis. And there’s the thing. Some users will immediately interpret this as: “Cool – free fonts”. Others will equally unthinkingly say: “Wow – nice typeface. A lot of work went into that. I’ll donate ten bucks in recognition of the person’s time and creativity, and in the hope they’ll make more.”

(And yes I know some people have more ready cash than others – but don’t claim to be “poor” if you’ve got a broadband connection and a computer to download stuff onto. That’s a vicious mis-use of the word “poor” in a world where millions of children don’t have anything to eat.)

I guess probably neither approach to pay-what-you-want is right or wrong. They’re just different. A lot of people do what they do ultimately out of love, and that’s the way it should be: but when there’s rent to be paid and food to be bought, nothing says ‘love’ like a little cash. Anyone who finds this observation distasteful has never tried to make a living via their creativity alone. I’m not dumping on the referring site, note – there’s a strong chance that by steering surfers to Lost Type, they’ll provoke at least a proportion of visitors to donate, which is the basis on which the designers put their work up there, after all; and many people – including myself – are happy for some free stuff to float around the web as a goodwill gesture, marketing tool, or just out of an open heart. I’m merely saying it’s interesting how the word is now being used, and how it perhaps speaks to some of the debate on SOPA.

So – what do you think? Does Safari “contain” profanity? Are the fonts I’m talking about actually “free”? Am I really a stooge for the dark, censoring elite of the New World Order – and if so, why haven’t they bloody well paid me yet?*

*Caution: sentence contains profanity.

I’m wearily aware that the following is going to mark me down as wrong-headedly fascist and/or a pinko liberal intellectual, and dangerously uncool either way, but…

I’d be interested to know what proportion of the people most stridently against SOPA – by which I mean individuals, not organizations — earn their living (and support their families) though the creation of intellectual copyright that is easily distributable over the Internet. My guess is very, very few of them. Once you’ve seen your life’s work thrown up for free on a few pirate pits — or ‘social sharing sites’, as the more brazen like to style themselves — you’re far less sanguine about the free-for-all approach, and more open to the idea that someone, somewhere might want to do something about copyright theft.

At the moment there’s precious little authority exercised in the area, and it’s left to the individual to protect themselves. I’ve had to fill in any number of forms to prove to sites that I have the right to ask them to stop ripping off my work — biting my lip at them claiming the moral high ground — and the bizarre thing is that every time I do this I feel like a spoil-sport, as if I’m being unreasonable or mean or dull. The prevailing ‘everything should be free’ ethos means that to stand up for your copyright comes across as oddly small-minded. Mean-spirited. Uncool. Maybe this is why some big-name creatives are prepared to throw their unconsidered weight behind this kind of knee-jerk movement – along with the fact they know that an important portion of their target audience unthinkingly supports the cause, and they don’t want to alienate them.

Why are people really so vehement about SOPA? Two reasons, I suspect. Some people will just go nuts about any hint of potential governmental control over their lives. They assume that every single measure that means they could, theoretically, be prodded with pointy legal sticks means that they definitely, definitely will be. Even the reasonably level-headed analysis of the bill here condones this way of thinking. But this is ridiculous. The idea that Big Business or the Government will hunt you down because you’ve uploaded a video of your wife singing a (copyrighted) song is fatuously alarmist. They won’t – not least because all but the most technologically inept entertainment companies will be content to view this kind of thing as free marketing.

There’s a monstrous egotism at work here, too, in the notion that governments enact laws specifically to get at YOU personally. They don’t. You’re not living in an all-powerful totalitarian state, guys. You’re really not. The US government doesn’t have the time, resources — or, I’m sure, the will — to chase down every single man jack of you for trivial offenses. I’m sorry to break this to you, but they simply don’t care that much about you, and I doubt they have the slightest desire to close down FaceBook or YouTube either (though the latter does have a breezy approach to copyright, as does Google). They’re trying to defend pre-existing laws, not imprison everyone or close down the bloody Internet. They can’t even shut down all the pedophile sites, a task I think we can all get behind — so do you really think they’re going to take you or your favorite mainstream sites down for your apparently innocent acts? This is the same kind of lunatic conspiracy thinking that believes the government has been able to keep it secret that the moon landings were faked for fifty years. They’re just not that powerful or efficient or deadly… except in your minds.

Read more »

Just to be clear before I start — I’m not against Amazon. I’ve spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars with the company. I own a Kindle Fire (and had the previous iteration before that), am a Prime member, and merrily download book after book onto the device. I’ve tracked down reasonably-priced copies of out of print books via them. When I needed a keyboard for my kid, stat, and the local music store (having promised a delivery the week before) punked out, I was straight over to Amazon and they had something with me in 24 hours. Amazon is a great way of getting hold of books and other gear quickly and conveniently, especially stuff that’s hard to get hold of where you live. Amazon, we like and value you. You’re our pal.

So don’t blow it. Don’t act like a bunch of total assholes.

Offering to sell people books at a discount if they take a picture of them in their local independent bookstore *** [please see caveat below]*** is an act so crass that it takes your breath away. It’s precisely Apple’s serene tendency to not do this kind of thing that makes me such an fanboy. Many yards have already been written about Amazon’s shark-like recent sales tactic, but for me it comes down to one basic question: do you want to still have bookstores, or not?

Read more »

Bit of a low-key update today, Sprintfans — as the company has merely perplexed me in the last couple of days, rather than driven me to homicidal fury.

Yesterday afternoon a robot called. My phone rang, and when I picked it up an automated lady imperiously informed me that Sprint was going to reimburse me $99 (for the first month’s rental on the phone they never sent, I assume), and I’d be receiving a cheque in 10-15 days. Thus having spoken, the robot lady rang off.

This morning I received a call from a human in Customer Service, in response to a gloriously arsey email I’d sent them via their Web site. According to the information on his screen, this gentleman said, my account has indeed been closed for fraud (grrrr), and is further showing that it has been “adjusted” -  and therefore there was nothing else he could credit back to me. I said I knew about the $99 and asked him about the cost of the phone – as I know there’s been no return of that to my bank account. He could see that money having been taken from me, he said, but there was no record of whether it had or would be returned, and no way for him to access that information. He advised me to get in touch with my bank to get them to dispute the payment for the phone.

I asked if he was serious – that I had to enter into a legal dispute with Sprint to get money back for a phone they freely admit they never sent. He said yes, and offered to put me through to Fraud to discuss the matter further. I’ve heard a rumour that if you talk to Sprint Fraud Management more than one hundred times in a calendar month there’s some kind of prize, so I thought what the hell, let’s go through it again. He put me through. After a few minutes on hold, a recorded announcement told me the entire Fraud department was closed for a training session. I can only assume this was either a brainstorm for new ways to make my life annoying, or perhaps a congratulatory lunch for what they’ve already achieved in that regard. I’m not going to call them back this week. I’d get more sense from screaming at a piece of driftwood.

Oh, and then a few hours later, the same robot lady as yesterday called to tell me the same thing again – they’re sending me a $99 cheque, and it will be with me in 10-15 days.

I’m evidently living in some Ray Bradbury story about the future, where mankind has left Earth behind for new adventures on distant planets, and the little Sprint droid that got left behind keeps ringing the same number with the same message. I’d like to ask it about the $467.98 for the phone, but I don’t want to complicate its mission, or freak it out. Maybe it’ll call me again tomorrow. I hope so.

I don’t want it to be lonely.