Nicola Griffith's Blog, page 13

Bright and sharp

It’s a bright, sharp winter morning here in Seattle and Charlie is enjoying the sun on his newly-grown winter coat—which makes him look much burlier than he really is. He’s hanging out in front of the Hot Lips salvia hoping to snatch a hummingbird (he won’t) and the still-surviving geranium annuals. The whole red/green colour scheme is beginning to look suspiciously holiday-themed…

What Would Hild Do?

Screenshot of Diva magazine with Trending Now is bold letters above the image for an article titled “What Would Hild Do?”

I have a short piece in the new issue of DIVA magazine — my story of how Hild’s bloody-mindedness informed my own as I battled homophobic US immigration law (and won—my case made new law) and as a result ended up on the front page of the Wall Street Journal as an example of the country’s failing morals

Here’s the opening paragraph:

Menewood is my second novel about Hilda of Whitby, an Early Medieval saint. In my story Hild is young, but neither saintly nor sweet—she could not afford to be. In the Early Medieval, nice girls could not become famous enough to be saints. Nice girls didn’t lead armies, kill kings, or change the course of history. And nice girls most definitely did not have terrifyingly exhilarating sex…

Read the rest here

Quick bird flu update

A teenager in British Columbia who became ill (initial symptoms included conjunctivitis, fever, and cough) on Nov 2 is now in critical condition, on intravenous antivirals, and suffering respiratory distress. This teen has no known exposure to infected animals and no pre-existing conditions. The flu they have is an H5, but testing is ongoing to determine the rest (the neuraminidase—the N number—clade, and genotype).

Older people will largely already have some immunity to H (hemagglutinin) flu subtypes through exposure to earlier seasonal flus such as H1N1, while younger people largely don’t—which might be why this person is so ill when many poultry and dairy workers have had mild symptoms. But please note all those largely and some and might qualifications. There’s so much we don’t know yet.

I’ll refer you again to what I think are sensible precautions.

Bird flu updates

I’m tired: Kelley has ‘walking’ pneumonia and I think I’ve been fighting it off; one of my friends is dying; and I just had the worst eye haemorrhage I’ve had in ten years—it hurts, and it makes me feel terrible every time I look in the mirror. Plus, y’know, the emotional drain of the election. So this report is less sharp, and much less well-cited than usual (but it’s all easy enough to look up if you’re interested).

Biggest news A pig on a small farm in Oregon has been confirmed to have been infected with—not just contaminated by—the same strain of H5N1 highly-pathogenic avian influenza (bird flu) as found in the farm’s infected chickens.This, like the recent news about the virus being able to spread via droplets between ferrets (though not efficiently), is not good. Pigs are an ideal recombination chamber for bird flu and human flu because the cell membranes in pig airways offer a particularly convenient route for the cell to be infected by both kinds of virus at the same time. (Human infection from animal sources seems so far to be via fomites—touching contaminated things.)if this happens at the same time, it leads to a hugely increased risk of recombinationrecombination is how viruses randomly mutate, increasing the possibility of finding a way to lead to human-to-human transmission via respiratory droplets—as human flu does nowA preprint went up on MedRxiv about tracking the emergence of a novel H5N1 flu reassortant in Cambodia Bird flu (this time H5N5) has now been detected in a commercial chicken farm in Hornsea (East Yorkshire, UK).DEFRA in the UK has raised its H5 risk level from medium to high.The usual news more and more flocks (in 48 states) and herds (14 states) are being infected in the USmore and more people (46) who work with those animals in the US confirmed to be infectedall but one of those confirmed to be infected by cows or chickens (the outlier is the person from Missouri)wastewater sampling continues to show low levels of H5N1 in various places (but we still don’t really know what that means)The biggest questions

These haven’t changed. I still want to know why there is no

mandatory testing of herds and flocks? (Though the USDA Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service just announced “a tiered strategy to collect milk samples to better assess where H5N1 is present proactively support effective biosecurity measures and to help state minimize the risk to farm workers.” Whatever that means.)moratorium on movement of non-tested livestock?mandatory vaccination of front-line agricultural workers?increase in vaccine and antiviral production?Reasons to stay calmMany flu antivirals appear to work well against H5N1Like many respiratory viruses, wearing a good mask, washing hands, and using high-quality air filtration largely prevent infectionAs do vaccines—which we have, though not a huge stockpileAs long as you pay attention, the risk right now is very low

Basically: watch, wait, don’t worry. Do pay attention. Just like like time.

Why I’m doing this

So why, if we don’t need to worry, am I following this and sharing it? Two reasons. One, this kind of stuff interests me—all parts of it: the biology, the epidemiology, the cultural response, political response, and informational approach; everything. And two, while I’m a big fan of Science, a big fan of information, a big fan of public health, I’ve also observed many (many) mistakes made over the last few years when it comes to communicating what I think is the right level of information and/or recommendations. And my guess is, if I’d rather collate my own info and assess my own risk than rely on organisations that can be politically pressured, then, hey, others might find it useful, too.

However, I understand some of you may feel different. So if you subscribe to this blog but find this stuff tedious and are not interested, please let me know in the comments and I’ll figure out some way to thread that needle.

Mood

How do I feel this morning? Well, the sun is still shining. And depending which window I look out of, it’s a different view.

At the front, here’s Charlie, pensive, pondering the lone snapdragon still trying to grow, despite all odds, even—especially—Nature.

Outside on the kitchen deck, the flowers—the summer flowers, still here in November—lost quite a few petals in the last night’s cold, bitter rain but are perking up in the sunshine.

And here, through the window in my office—the view looks a little fuzzy and muted because I still haven’t taken down the summer screen—the cherry tree is going down in a slow, melancholy and muted burn of beauty.

So the answer to How do I feel? is It depends. I can see different ways of looking at the world. I’m tired and disappointed and don’t quite understand why or how a convicted felon, a convicted sex offender, and an absolute fraudulent fool when it comes to business, has conned ordinary people into believing he can do anything to improve anyone’s lives—or, even if he could, that he would. It makes me doubt my understanding of people. And I’m worried about the world—specifically, most immediately, I’m most worried about Ukraine and therefore NATO and therefore Europe (and I’ll have thoughts about that down the line)—and how this country is going to survive, whether it’s going to survive, as itself. But the sun is shining, life is still finding a way, and so, therefore, am I.

How about you? Where are you today?

Good morning! Let’s drink!

After I wrote my post yesterday I started wondering what I might do with myself today. The plan is to stay off the interwebs and do something absolutely unconnected to politics—at least for as long as I can stand it.

So, obviously, reading. I have a writer friend’s new ms. queued up and ready to go. It’s a long book, and he’s a good writer, so it should keep me occupied.

Obviously eating. My favourite breakfast is usually some kind of fish—at the weekend I like a big chunk of fresh Icelandic cod, dipped in egg and milk and fried, or fresh trout, or kedgeree—but it’s a work day, so probably just eggs and tea. As it’s autumn, today we’ll be eating one of our favourite big pot meals, beef marrow and vegetable stew. At lunchtime I’ll eat it on its own, but in the evening a much bigger bowl, and with an enormous and delicious salad—many types of leaves, avocado, pomegranate seeds, and grated carrot—slathered in homemade green goddess dressing, made largely from parsley, watercress, arugula and basil . (Kelley likes blue cheese dressing, and different things with the leaves.) And some sort of dessert, even if it’s only blueberries.

And, most obviously, drinking. Much as I’d like to crack open a beer with lunch and then just keep going, drifting gently into the fictional world of the book I’ll be reading and leaving politics behind, that would mean that by dinnertime I’d be unable to move, which is no fun. Instead, I’ll stick to coffee and tea until the cocktail hour, when Kelley finishes work. And then perhaps instead of our usual pre-prandial beer or wine we’ll have a cocktail—most likely the one we invented four years ago especially for the 2020 election.

The cocktail doesn’t have a name, but we call it a Brandy Bramble. Except I prefer to make it with Armagnac. Except Armagnac is more expensive than brandy—so mostly we just use well brandy.

What’s in it? Well, lots of fucking alcohol. The best taste comes from brown, rich-and-fumey stuff—Armagnac, Cognac, or—if you’re a fan of grain alcohol (I’m not)—bourbon. Things like gin and vodka would also work, but lack that autumnal warmth I’m after. So if you can, go with dark grapey goodness. Part of the delicious autumnal complexity comes from the berry liqueurs: St Germain, which is elderberry (yeah, okay, it’s elderflower, not berry, but it’s what we first used and it turns out the flowers add a delicate aroma that berries don’t) and crème de cassis, made from blackcurrants. These liqueurs are sweet (especially the St Germain), so you don’t need much, but the cassis in particular adds a lovely colour and, as I say, a kind of sit-by-the-fire-while-the-leaves-fall taste that is very comforting. But you need something to cut the sweetness a bit, and put a bit of wake-up on your tongue, so a squeeze of citrus is good. I don’t like lemon (like grain alcohol it’s complicated, histamine-wise) so I use lime—but I’m guessing most people would find lemon more convenient, not to mention cheaper, and a sharper contrast.

In addition to the alcohol, you’ll need a shot glass for measuring, a lime/lemon squeezer, lots of ice cubes (with at few large one in reserve), a cocktail shaker, and two glasses. We use 8 oz lowball glasses which end up being about the right size, especially if, like Kelley, you prefer more ice.

Brandy Bramble — Serves 2

Ingredients:
– 5 shots Armagnac (or brandy—or, if you really must, bourbon)
– 1/3 shot elderflower liqueur
– 1/3 shot crème de cassis
– juice of one lime (more if you prefer)
– ice, including several large chunks

Method:
– Set aside four chunks of ice and add rest to a cocktail shaker.
– Add other ingredients.
– Shake. For a long time. (Seriously. It takes a while.)
– Strain cocktail into the glasses, dividing evenly.
– Add big, fresh ice cubes to the glasses—I like one, Kelley likes
two. (I suggest adding these afterwards because then it’s easier
to divide the drinks equally.)
– Sip slowly. Unless you’re watching election returns, in which case
gulp the fucking thing and immediately make another.

Having said that, these are deceptively strong drinks, so take care. We usually drink just one. But the election is a special case. Tonight, all bets are off.

See you on the other side.

Day of Glory!

This morning I woke up with “La Marseillaise” running through my head and find myself moving around the house humming the tune rather emphatically. Why? (I mean, apart from the fact that it’s a tune that lends itself to emphasis—it’s a martial song, meant to be marched to.) Because, fellow citizens (and fellow immigrants, whether documented or not), I think the lyrics—okay, a small part of the lyrics—are apt: The day of glory has arrived! Or is about to.

Have I not been reading the polls? I have been reading the polls. So then do I think the pollsters are lying to us? I don’t think the pollsters are lying to us. I just think they’re wrong.

I use the work ‘think’ cautiously. Because I know I’m also hoping they’re wrong. But there’s this swelling feeling that no matter how sternly I tell myself to close it down, shut it off, stop being unrealistic, just keeps…swelling. I think the pollsters are wrong about the Black vote. I think they’re very wrong about the older white women vote. And though I think they’re probably right about the young white male vote, getting that particular group to actually vote has, historically speaking, never been easy. On top of that, the Harris: Trump spread across almost all polls is within the margin of error. And it slips back and forth.

Is it possible I’m horribly wrong about this and by January we’ll all be quilting bulletproof vests and knitting helmets with pink ears and sharpening our embroidery shears while we secretly build the ark to float out into Puget Sound and declare sovereign territory? Of course! But if I am wrong I won’t be any worse off for having allowed myself this sneaking hope today. And if I have sneaking hope then why commit and just go Full Blown Hope? After all, if I’m wrong, a bit of public embarrassment is nothing compared to what would be coming.

So, yes: The day of glory is upon us!

The Paradox of Tolerance

Karl Popper in The Open Society and Its Enemies (1945) first articulated the Paradox of Tolerance: If a society extends tolerance to those who are intolerant, it risks enabling the eventual dominance of intolerance, thereby undermining the very principle of tolerance. If intolerant ideologies are allowed unchecked expression, they could exploit open society values to erode or destroy tolerance itself through authoritarian or oppressive practices. It’s a bit like the Paradox of Freedom, in that it’s necessary to limit both unchecked freedom and intolerance in order to prevent despotic rule.

I’ve already argued that our institutions will not save us from despotism and intolerance unless the people involved—us, the voters; us, the community and neighbours and co-workers; us, the lawmakers and judges—believe in them. And if we believe liberal democracy is worth fighting for, then we need to close down intolerance at its source—we must not tolerate it.

I first encountered Popper when I was 17 and taking a class on the philosophy of science. I was reminded of him in the mid-80s when Thatcher began to bang the Section 28 drum, in late 90s when the Contract With America Republicans and its adherents first came on the scene, in the aughts with the Tea Party movement, and again, more strongly, in 2016 when followers and proponents of both Brexit and Trump were fear-mongering about the Other: those bloody foreigners (and uppity women, crips and queers) taking our jobs/security/sovereignty/women. Let’s throw them out/throw them in jail and Make England (and it was always England, not Britain) and America Great Again!

And the nice straight white nondisabled middle classes on both sides of the pond, at least the ones who believe in the basics of decent human behaviour and were used to being in the majority, being the norm, mostly a) did not take the mouth-foamers seriously and, b) if they did, could not respond in kind—could not shout them down, close the spigots of misinformation and disinformation and hate speech because, well, part of being a good human being was being tolerant. And freedom of speech is sacred.1

Meanwhile, us women/crips/queers/Black and brown/poor/immigrant people who understood, viscerally, the paradoxes of tolerance and freedom, were pleading with the Nice People, trying to explain that liberal democracy will not survive unless we all fight back and shut them down.

Yet, here we are. Again. Six days from an election that could tear apart the liberal order in this country, if not forever then for a very long time, and give free rein to autocrats of all stripes. It beggars belief—or it would if you are a nice, ‘normal’ white, middle-class, straight, nondisabled citizen who has never been Othered, never been hungry a day in your life, never known real uncertainty, never been thrown in jail for just being; never been attacked and put in hospital for just being; never been refused access to your sweetie in hospital; never been refused entry to a country because of who you are; never had people threaten to rape you and burn down your house while the police laugh; never been invited to a party you can’t get into because no one thought about wheelchairs and steps… I could go on, but why bother? I’m preaching to the choir, here: I firmly believe every human being of a certain age and reasonable mental capacity understands these paradoxes of freedom and tolerance. Those who say they don’t are lying, at best to themselves and at worst to others, because it suits them to do so.

Time to stop.

So many free speech absolutists confuse freedom of speech with freedom from consequences. They are not the same. If you deliberately yell ‘Fire!’ in a crowded theatre and twelve people die in the stampede to the exit, you would most likely be prosecuted. You most likely would go to prison. You absolutely would deserve it. ︎

H5N1 Bird Flu updates

This a good new/bad news situation. The good news—excellent, actually—is that the Missouri case that might have been human-to-human transmission very probably was not. For one, the health care contacts were not infected with H5N1, and for another, the household contact was very likely infected at exactly the same time as the index patient and therefore exposed to the original source of the infection rather than catching it from—or giving it to—the index patient.

The bad news, well, it could be worse (though my guess it that now it probably will be at some point, just not today). Yesterday the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Disease (NIAID) broke the news that virus isolated from people infected by bovine strains of bird flu can be transmitted between ferrets, and that it is lethal. What makes this news so bad is that ferrets are the best model for humans when it comes to flu response. What makes it not terrible is that a) the ferrets were infected with massive doses, b) it does not transmit easily, and c) it responds well to current antivirals such as zanamivir (Relenza) and others, if not to oseltamivir (Tamiflu). CIDRAP has a good write-up.

As I’ve said before, flu mutates all the time. I think it’s only a matter of time before this virus finds a way upgrade its current inefficient transmission to a much more efficient method. Especially given the fact that ordinary flu season is just getting started, and a fertile environment for such a mutation to occur would be in a host infected by, say, the Californian bovine strain during their job at a dairy farm who then catches regular flu. A perfect opportunity for the virus.

We’re not there yet—and I would love it if we never were. But do still keep an eye in your pets and on dead birds and observe sensible precautions. Just like fastening your seatbelt every time you’re in a car, it can’t hurt and it might help.

Tinker Bell and The Ballot

In Peter Pan, Tinker Bell the fairy would not have lived if people had not believed in her. The same is true of Democracy and its institutions.1

The Rule of Law sounds magisterial: invincible, unbreakable, and immutable. It is not. Laws are just words that everyone has agreed to believe in, including those who enforce it and adjudicate it. Laws, and the institutions erected upon them, therefore, are only as indestructible as the people involved in the process: that is, they are fragile, as ephemeral as fairies; without faith, they die.

The bedrock of democracy is fair and free elections whose results are accepted by all parties. No electoral system or process is perfect—databases drop data; signatures don’t match; someone forgets about that one bag of paper ballots in the corner. And human error, at all levels of the process, is always with us. In strong democracy finding errors is a good thing: finding errors tends to lead to better systems, incremental improvements. Finding and fixing errors makes things fairer and better, not worse.

But we have to believe in the inherent worth of a system or institution in order that when we see errors we don’t see bad intent and believe in corruption, but, rather, see human mistakes and believe it’s worth finding way to improve it. When politicians and pundits and bad actors question the essential integrity of any voting system they weaken the very trust a system needs to work. When someone, such as Donald Trump, says he will only trust an election result if he wins, he is eroding that bedrock faith required to make the system work.

When good people disagree, or the errors have piled up enough to be confusing—the hanging chads, the lost-from-the-database signatures, the felons who weren’t felons when they actually voted—then the two sides go to court to let the law sort it out. But what happens when one side or the other no longer trusts the court, no longer believes that the law is impartial? We get the situation we are in today in which election officials are afraid for themselves and their families; afraid for their lives. We get voters who are afraid to go to a polling station to fill in a ballot because they are intimidated by the other voters (themselves emotional and angry because they’ve been told the law is not trustworthy and that their country is being stolen) who are on a hair trigger and looking for someone to blame.

The US election is 8 days away. I don’t know who’s going to win.2 (No one knows.) My hope, though, is that wherever you are, you vote. My hope is that you still believe enough in the rule of law and the soundness of our institutions, that you still have faith enough in our democracy to make the effort. That you trust that you and your vote count. I believe you do.

I want Tinker Bell to live.

See the Tinkerbell Effect. ︎I have hope. But it’s very, very close. ︎