Dynamic scoring

This is Joseph.

I have noticed this issue in the data on economic growth for a while, as a general impression.  But Robert Waldman has a past pointing out that the current data suggests that it is quite possible that lowering tax rates is an effective way to decrease growth:

I haven’t run the numbers (I can’t) but I am confident that Jeb’s plan would cause lower growth. Partly this is because of post WWII data on top marginal tax rates (I admit on labor income) and growth in OECD countries. Atheoretic estimates, if taken literally, suggest that the growth is maximized at a top rate of over 50% (some estimates are 70%). In contrast, I know of essentially no evidence published in the peer reviewed literature that lower rates cause more rapid growth (the essentially is in regressions which consider convergence that is include initial per capita GDP as a regressor — it’s negative coefficient is overwhelmingly statistically significant for the sample.

 Now it is true, as one of the commenters points out, that there is a lot of unexplained variance in the data and so it possible that this estimate is incorrect.  But think carefully about the implications: the best available estimate not only has to be wrong but the sign needs to switch (and the magnitude still needs to be large as a very small positive effect might still be essentially zero).

So what if we decide that the data is utterly unreliable.  All we would have are theoretical models that we really cannot test (as the hypothesis was proposed under Reagan and we have since seen two switches in tax rates, both going in the direction of the data -- if that isn't enough data we are basically giving up on a data based answer for decades). 

So what happens if you justify tax cuts, assuming no effects on economic growth?  Or, worse, if you model deficits as decreasing growth but not tax cuts? 

I think you would end up with some very different policy conclusions. 

Postscript: Paul Krugman also has a very nice plot of this data, after both a tax cut and a tax hike. 

Electronic currency

It seems like Bitcoin is experiencing a bit of a set-back.  It is probably not that surprising that such a strong challenge to fiat currency has been met by federal investigators.  The more high profile the challenge, the easier it would have been to meet it.  It is the stuff that isn't advertising on Wall Street that might slip under the radar.

Krugman versus Yglesias

Paul Krugman has two explanations for why profits are rising at the expense of workers:

As best as I can tell, there are two plausible explanations, both of which could be true to some extent. One is that technology has taken a turn that places labor at a disadvantage; the other is that we’re looking at the effects of a sharp increase in monopoly power. Think of these two stories as emphasizing robots on one side, robber barons on the other.
 

Matt Yglesias advances what I think is a better explanation:

 To put it nonpolemically, you can see in the chart that not only is there a structural trend in the labor share of output, there's also a strong cyclical trend. The labor share declines during recessions and rises during booms. And the problem of the Federal Reserve is that over the past 30 years, it has a perfect track record of never allowing inflation (which is to say a sustained period in which wages rise faster than productivity), but it doesn't have a perfect track record of never allowing recessions. The inevitable consequence of this asymmetrical success is for the labor share to steadily decline.
 

I like this argument for the simplicity: it is based on a clear policy choice that was made and which continues to this day.  There is no need for an appeal to "the world has changed" over and above the decision to be willing to hold price stability in place at the cost of employment.  This is directly relevant to today as the Federal Reserve has a dual mandate.  On one side of the mandate, they have the requirement to ensure price stability.  On the other side of the mandate they need to encourage full employment.  It's pretty clear that they are doing much better with one piece of this mandate than the other. 

Economics and Morality

I have noticed a rather poisonous idea that is starting to get noticed -- the link between moral virtue and economic success. Consider these two points below.

Matt Yglesias:

To be clear, I don't think we're looking at hypocrisy exactly. Instead it goes back to the preference for morality tales. Whoever is up at the moment must be up because of their greater moral virtues. I seem to have somehow missed the conservative articles lauding Germany and the Netherlands from back four or five years ago. Instead at the time I was reading lots of stories about the triumph of the Celtic Tiger, the genius of the flat tax in the Baltic states, articles praising Silvio Berlusconi and so forth. Certainly at no point during the Bush administration was there a lot of talk in the right-wing press about the evils of household debt, the overwhelming merits of current account surpluses, or any of the rest of it.

Andrew Gelman:\

Nothing here about “hardworking” or “virtuous.” In a meritocracy, you can be as hardworking as John Kruk or as virtuous as Kobe Bryant and you’ll still get ahead—if you have the talent and achievement. Throwing in “hardworking” and “virtuous” seems to me to an attempt (unconscious, I expect) to retroactively assign moral standing to the winners in an economic race.

The reason that I consider this to be a poisonous idea is that distracts us from the actual moral actions of the people involved. I'd consider the "all bosses are bad" to be an equally poisonous notion. Painting a social class with either virtue or vice is likely to distort thinking and policy in bad ways.

Economic success is good; we all like living in a world where utility is maximized. But I'd thought the linking of material success to moral virtue (consider the finale of the story of Job) had gone out of style. Instead we live in a world where people with significant moral failing (think Steve Jobs) can still contribute to economic success.

Linking these two concepts interferes with assisting the economic losers as it tends to attach the stigma of blame. This is not to say that hard work may not correlate with economic success but that it is important to remember that hard work does not necessarily lead to economic success.

Just ask a medieval serf!

Testing Theory

Matt Yglesias:

Last week I was outside my office and I saw a $5 bill on the ground. Famously, economists say you never see a $5 bill on the ground because someone would pick it up. But instead of picking it up, I stood around watching to see if anyone else would. A bunch of people walked by not noticing it. Then one guy saw it, saw me, and asked if it was mine. I said no it wasn’t, I was just curious what would happen. He laughed and made a joke about economists. Then a second guy came by, picked it up, and said I’d dropped five dollars. I said no, actually it was there before me. He looked around, noticed a homeless guy across the street, said “I think he needs it more than me,” walked over and gave it to him.

While a single test is not proof of anything (expect the strongest of the possible theories), I have certainly had people tell me that I have dropped money. That seems to go against the assumption that rational people will always act to increase their wealth (after all, they could just pick up the bill).

I think that it is worth keeping in mind that the assumptions of economic models are just that. Models can be useful but are rarely ever completely correct.

And Matt's stuff in the same post on the Night Watchman state is simply not to be missed.

Economics puzzle

Some choice quotes from a report tweeted by Felix Salmon:

We researched the 100 U.S. corporations that shelled out the most last year in CEO compensation. At 25 of these corporate giants, we found, the bill for chief executive compensation actually ran higher than the company's entire federal corporate income tax bill.

Accounting games like "transfer pricing" have sent the corporate share of federal revenues plummeting. In 1945, U.S. corporate income taxes added up to 35 percent of all federal government revenue. This year, corporate income taxes will make up just 9 percent of federal receipts. In 1952, the year Republican President Dwight Eisenhower was elected, the effective income tax rate for corporations was 52.8 percent. Last year it was just 10.5 percent.

Among the nation's top firms, the S&P 500, CEO pay last year averaged $10,762,304, up 27.8 percent over 2009. Average worker pay in 2010? That finished up at $33,121, up just 3.3 percent over the year before.

The last is especially puzzling. When salaries rise faster for a specific category of jobs, it tends to signal that the market is finding a shortage of qualified people. It's also the golden time of opportunity for outsiders to break into the market and drop wages.

Or, option B, it is a feature of rent seeking due to a protected market. Which one strikes out humble reader as more likely?

Declining Salaries for Writers

This is a very sad blog post on the state of pay for role playing game writers. In particular:

Fifteen years ago, I wrote RPGs for 3 cents a word. In these more modern times, though, the pay rate is... wait, it's still 3 cents a word. Come to think of it, the pay hasn't changed much from the golden age of pulps and early sci-fi. The pay is the same as from the 1950s? What's wrong with this picture?
One argument is 'that is all the market will bear'. Okay, but in that same timeframe, other forms of writing (particularly journalism and non-fiction) moved on to dollar-a-word. Sure, we're in a dip for that sort of writing too, with rates often dropped to half that. But a pair o' quarters per word is still a damn site better than RPGing's 3-cents-per.

The part that makes this discussion so painful is that the quality of writing can really make or break what is fundamentally a book project. This is one place where markets really don't seem to be able to adapt as the low rates often lead to weak product. Maybe this is just a consequence of niche markets?

Popular Micro-economics

Andrew Gelman writes:

Pop economists (or, at least, pop micro-economists) are often making one of two arguments:

1. People are rational and respond to incentives. Behavior that looks irrational is actually completely rational once you think like an economist.

2. People are irrational and they need economists, with their open minds, to show them how to be rational and efficient.

Argument 1 is associated with "why do they do that?" sorts of puzzles. Why do they charge so much for candy at the movie theater, why are airline ticket prices such a mess, why are people drug addicts, etc. The usual answer is that there's some rational reason for what seems like silly or self-destructive behavior.

Argument 2 is associated with "we can do better" claims such as why we should fire 80% of public-schools teachers or Moneyball-style stories about how some clever entrepreneur has made a zillion dollars by exploiting some inefficiency in the market.

[sorry for the general link, there seemed to be technical issue linking to the specific article]

I think that this insight is quite compelling and exposes a real issue with popular micro-economics. After all, these two positions mostly contradict each other!

I see this contraction arising for different reasons than Andrew does. I think that economists are often forced to make strong assumptions in order to deal with the sorts of complex problems that they look at. So they presume rationality on the part of all actors when trying to explain problems (i.e., descprive work). But when they want to improve matters they shift and reject this assumption (as it would suggest everything is already optimized). So they make different (strong and unverifiable) assumptions depending on whether they are trying to explain behavior or give guidence to improve outcomes.

What seems to be more alarming to me that is that this pool of economists often don't "sanity check" the effect size of their analysis. Perhaps it is my background in epidemiology, but if I see a hazard ratio of 5 then I am immediately suspicious that it is too good to be true. However, Ray Fisman can see an analysis that suggests firing 80% of teachers and not necessarily wonder if perhaps there is an overly strong assumption in his analysis (like the pool of new potential teachers not having finite limits or in the real sensitivity of the evaluation process).

Health Care and Confusion

One of the most important underlying issues preventing efficient markets for health care is explained in a Dilbert cartoon.

The paradox of New Haven

Mark has been discussing Edward Glaeser and his comments on how universities can create urban prosperity. Now, I am a big fan of universities and think that they serve an important role in global economic development. However, I am dubious that they make any particular community prosperous. Consider New Haven, CT -- the home of Yale University (recently ranked the #11 university in the world).

According to wikipedia, the poverty rate in New Haven is 24%, which compares unfavorably with the rest of the United States where it is 14%. The poverty rate in New Haven, despite the presence of Yale, is nearly twice that of the United States as a whole.

Now, one might note that many of the poor residents of New Haven are likely to be students. This is true. But these students still use municipal services and thus require the local tax base to support them (in addition to the long term residents). They do not (after they graduate and make additional income) send money back to New Haven so, in a sense, New Haven is actually subsiding the urban communities that Yale graduates move to.

So, it is actually possible that a large university in a small community could be a drag on the economy due to the lower per capita tax base. Plus, you have a large segment of the population with only a short term interest in the community which may make long term planning more difficult. And New Haven, CT is not the only university town that I can think of with high levels of poverty.

Furthermore, if a strong local university (like the University of Washington) is a solution to urban poverty (as it was presented in the Detroit versus Seattle comparison of Edward Glaeser) then it is unclear why a stronger economy has not grown up around Yale which is a strong school by any measure.

This example highlights, I think, that predicting what factors create a prosperous community is a difficult question and not one that has easy answers.

Update: The discussion continues here and here.

'Confidence' and 'Rationality'

This post by Andrew Gelman suggests replacing "confidence interval" with "uncertainty interval" based in part on the "awkwardness of explaining that confidence intervals are big in noisy situations where you have less confidence, and confidence intervals are small when you have more confidence."

At the risk of putting words into Dr. Gelman's mouth, his concern is partly about the confusion that often comes from assigning common words specific technical meanings that are subtly different than their common usage. 'Confidence' here doesn't quite mean what people think it means.

One way of addressing that concern is finding new terms that don't have the same potential for confusion. Another is finding better ways of explaining the distinction. But the very fact that this is a concern illustrates an important difference between statisticians and economists.

Both statisticians and economists take common words and assign them specialized meanings. Of course, this is a reasonable, even necessary, process. As thinking in a field becomes more precise, language has to follow suit, which is why you can find a similar process in many other disciplines, but the difference in attitudes toward refined words seems particularly marked in these two.

Based on anecdotal but extensive evidence, statisticians (and I'm definitely guilty of this) constantly, almost compulsively, stop to point out that what we said isn't what you think we said. This is especially true for 'significance,' which often comes with a brief (and unwelcome) lecture on p-value and types of error. This is part of the culture of statistics. We are taught early and repeatedly that the distinctions we are making are important and need to be spelled out explicitly.

Compare this to the way economists (particularly a freshwater economists) tend to use terms like 'rational.' When economists say an actor is rational, they mean that this actor's behavior can be modeled using a simple but highly restrictive set of assumptions. Many behaviors that qualify as rational in the common sense of the term fail to meet these assumptions while more than a few behaviors that do qualify would strike most people as irrational.

But unlike statisticians, economists generally don't feel compelled to spell out these distinctions. You will often see economists using phrases like "Are people rational?" These phrases are occasionally followed by 'in the economics sense,' but they are seldom accompanied by an explanation of just how narrow this sense is.

When an economist says "people are rational" or (Steven Levitt's preferred variation) "people respond to incentives," most listeners tend to take away the impression that they mean "people act in ways that are generally considered rational" or "incentives can change the way people behave." These latter statements are completely reasonable. Most of us would agree with them. They are not, however, what the economist meant.

Wargaming

This article is a very interesting look at the rise and fall of wargaming. Of especial interest was:

In 1982, the 30,000 subscribers of Strategy & Tactics, SPI's flagship magazine, were the most avid wargame enthusiasts on the globe. More than 50% of them, per SPI's own feedback, owned 100 or more wargames; most of them bought a dozen or more games every year, not counting the games they received as subscribers to the magazine. SPI estimated that perhaps 250,000 people, in the whole of North America, had ever bought a wargame; and the 30,000 subscribers to S&T bought an enormously disproportionate number of the games sold.

They were the hard core, the fundament upon which the whole wargame industry was built.

So naturally, when TSR took over SPI, the first thing it did was give the finger to S&T's subscribers. The first thing it did was say to the best customers of its new subsidiary, "Go take a hike; we don't want your custom; your concerns mean nothing to us."

You see, almost every magazine in the country can declare bankruptcy tomorrow, if it wants to, because every magazine in the country has enormous liabilities: the obligation to provide issues to its subscribers. The subscription money came in long ago, and has been spent, and that liability remains. Magazines continue, and make money, because they sell advertising, and expect their subscribers to resubscribe. But SPI had no money -- and S&T had 30,000 subscribers. Over a thousand were life-time subscribers, owed issues in perpetuity in exchange for no further income.

TSR didn't want the liability. Fulfilling S&T's existing subscriptions would have cost it money.

So, TSR decided, it would not honor any subscriptions.

TSR had taken over SPI's assets, but not its liabilities, so they claimed; therefore, they had no obligation to S&T's subscribers.

Gosh. Guess what happened? Few of S&T's subscribers reupped. Few wanted to send more money to the company that had just ripped them off.

And few of them ever bought any of the wargames TSR began to publish.

And TSR never could figure out why their wargames never sold.

I think that this example is very interesting for a couple of reasons. One, the fact that this was such a large setback to the entire field makes it clear just how important barriers to entry can be in making competition difficult (it would have been infeasible to develop the network that had just been destroyed by another publisher). Two, is the market power of corporations. With their ability to raise equity, they can purchase viable business models but they do not necessarily manage them well.

For a luxury good, like wargames are , it is unfortunate for people who enjoyed them but hardly a tragedy -- other goods will have the chance to thrive in the market instead (and perhaps this is a form of creative destruction?).

But imagine this process for an essential good: like water, electricity or education. I think we should keep examples like this in mind when considering the benefits of privatization. There are massive upsides to capturing the efficiency of a functioning market -- but only if players are allowed to fail.

What Auteur Theory and Freshwater Economics have in common

(the first draft is the dominant genre of the internet. Between the roughness of this essay and my extensive ignorance of criticism and economics, I'm sure there is plenty of room for improvement here. If any readers have suggestions for taking this to the next level please let me know.)

(you might want to read this New York Times piece by Paul Krugman before going on -- it's the best primer I know of for this debate.)

We'll define freshwater economics as the theory that economic behavior (and perhaps most non-economic behavior) can be explained using the concepts of rational actors and efficient markets and auteur theory as the idea that most films (particularly great films) represent the artistic vision of a single author (almost always the director) and the best way to approach one of those films is through the body of work of its author. Both of these definitions are oversimplified and a bit unfair but they will get the discussion started.

At first first glance, these theories don't seem to have much in common, but as we step back and look at them in general terms, fundamental similarities start to emerge in their styles, their ecological niches and in the way they've been received.

Compared to their nearest neighbors, film criticism and economics (particularly macroeconomics) are both difficult, messy fields. Films are collaborative efforts where individual contributions defy attribution and creative decisions often can't be distinguished from accidents of filming. Worse yet, most films are the product of large corporations which means that dozens of VPs and executives might have played a role (sometimes an appallingly large one) in determining what got to the screen.

Economists face a comparably daunting task. Unlike researchers in the hard sciences, they have to deal with messiness of human behavior. Unlike psychologists, microeconomists have few opportunities to perform randomized trials and macroeconomists have none whatsoever. Finally, unlike any other researchers in any other field, economists face a massive problem with deliberate feedback. It is true that subjects in psychological and sociological studies might be aware of and influenced by the results of previous studies but in economics, most of the major players are consciously modifying their behavior based on economic research. It is as if the white mice got together before every experiment and did a literature search. ("Well, there's our problem. We should have been pulling the black lever.")

Faced with all this confusion, film scholars and economists (at least, macroeconomists) both reached the same inevitable conclusion: they would have to rely on broader, stronger assumptions than those colleagues in adjacent fields were using. This does not apply simply to auteurists and freshwater economists. Anyone who does any work in these fields will have to start with some sweeping and unprovable statements about how the world works. Auteurists and freshwater economists just took this idea to its logical conclusion and built their work on the simplest and most elegant assumptions possible, like Euclid demonstrating every aspect of shape and measure using only five little postulates.

(Except, of course, Euclid didn't. His set of postulates didn't actually support his conclusions. The world would have to wait for Hilbert to come up with a set that did. The question of whether economists need a Hilbert will have to wait for another day.)

Given that we have two similar responses to two similar situations, it is not all that surprising to see that both schools of thought have followed similar paths and have come to dominate their respective fields. I don't think that anyone would argue that any institution has had more impact on economics than the Chicago school over the past fifty years and I doubt you could find a theory of film that comes close to the impact of auteurism over the same period.

This dominance was achieved despite serious criticisms and counter-examples. When the writer William Goldman (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Princess Bride, many, many, many others) heard about auteur theory, his reaction was "What's the punchline?" The sentiment was echoed by many writers who pointed out that many of the elements that the critics discussed were determined, explicitly or implicitly in the script. On related grounds, others pointed out how many of the creative decisions were made in preproduction often before the director was hired (John Huston said that a film was mostly finished once you had the cast and the script). Others talked about films that were "saved in the editing room," a common Hollywood expression for films that are radically changed for the better in post-production, usually after having been taken away from the director. Many (including Goldman) argued that films were the sum of many individual contributions and that changing any of them would result in a different movie.

Critics of classical economics question the realism of the school's postulates. They suggest that the proposed 'homo economicus' would have to be a cross between a lightning calculator and a high-functioning psychic. They point to findings from behavioral economics that show individuals failing to act according to neoclassical principles and historical cases where neoclassical models failed to predict economic events.

Both schools of thought partially address these complaints by arguing that their critics are trying to apply their ideas in cases where the necessary conditions don't hold. For auteurists, conditions included technical competence, recognizable style and a sufficient body of work. For freshwater economists, conditions included symmetry of information, a sufficient pool of buyers and sellers, a lack of externalities and freedom from government influence. These conditions did not refute the criticisms but they did provide defensible positions.

There is nothing unusual, let alone improper about proponents of a theory laying out conditions that have to be met before their concepts can be applied. (I could have written essential the same paragraph about Keynesians or deconstructionists.) What makes this notable is the disconnect between this approach and the way lay people use these ideas.

The dominance of auteurism and the Chicago School is, if anything, greater when you venture outside of academia. Most financial journalists, pundits and politicians take the power of market forces as a given and the vast majority of movie reviewers routinely assume that the director is the author of the film they just saw, but in both these cases with very few exceptions, the lay people using these theories have no idea that the conditions of the previous paragraphs even exist.

The problem with auteurism is compounded by the fact that most reviewers have no idea what a director actually does. This was certainly not true of the original French critics who popularized the theory (who were, themselves, directors) or of its primary American proponent, Andrew Sarris, (who went to great pains to discuss exactly and also set out the definitive list of the conditions I referred to).

Today most reviews will use the possessive form of the director's name then proceed to discuss everything about the film but the direction. The strange result of all this is that directors are both the most overrated and under-appreciated of movie makers. They are given credit for the work of everyone else while their own contribution is generally ignored.*

Obviously, the stakes are higher for economics but the disconnect is just as big. Open up any op-ed page or tune in any news conference and you are likely to find someone using freshwater arguments in situations where any serious freshwater economist would tell you they don't apply. For example, it is easy to pundits and politicians who believe we should let the market forces handle global warming instead of having a carbon tax, despite the pro-tax position of economists like Laffer, Cowen and Mankiw. It isn't that these laymen are consciously disagreeing with these experts; they simply don't know that using taxes to address externalities is a fundamental part of the philosophy they think they are espousing.

Finally, both schools had clear winners and have been aggressively promoted by those winners. Directors were the big winners in auteur theory; they gained power and prestige which in an industry that knows how to reward those attributes. It may not have been entirely a coincidence that the original auteurist critics had their careers as directors enhanced by the rise of the theory.

In economics, there is no question that the rise of freshwater ideas and approaches have been advanced considerably by institutions like the American Enterprise Institute and the Heritage Foundation, nor is there any question that much of the funding for these institutions came from companies that directly benefited from the dominance of freshwater economics.

Do these schools deserve their positions of dominance? That's a question for people above my pay grade. I'm just pointing out that widely separated disciplines can be surprisingly similar when you take things to a high enough level.


* For a view of how little influence some directors have on actors' performances check out these comments by Robert Mitchum (cutter in this context means film editor).

note: The Paul Krugman link at the top was added 5/31/10.

Blockbusters, Franchises and Apostrophes

More on the economics of genre fiction

The story so far: last week Andrew Gelman had a post on a book that discussed the dominance of best seller lists and suggested that it was due to their increased quality and respectability. I argued that the quality and respectability had if anything decreased (here), posted some background information (here and here) then discussed how the economics of publishing from the late Nineteenth Century through the Post-War era had influenced genre fiction. The following closes with a look at where we are now and how the current state of the market determines what we're seeing at the bookstore.

As the market shrank in the last part of the Twentieth Century, the pay scale shifted to the feast and (mostly) famine distribution of today. (The century also saw a similar shift for musicians, artists and actors.) Non-paying outlets sprang up. Fan fiction emerged (non-licensed use of characters had, of course, been around for years -- Tiajuana bibles being a classic example -- but fan fiction was written for the author's enjoyment without any real expectation of payment). These changes are generally blamed on the internet but the conventional wisdom is at least a couple of decades off. All of these trends were well established by the Seventies.

With the loss of the short story market and the consolidation of publishing, the economics of writing on spec became brutal. Writing and trying to sell a novel represents a tremendous investment of time and energy with little hope of success. By comparison writing on spec in the Forties meant coming up with twelve to fifteen pages then sending them off to twenty or so potential markets. The best of these markets paid good money; the worst were hungry for anything publishable.

The shift from short story to novel also meant greater risk for the publisher (and, though we don't normally think of it in these terms, for the reader who also invested money and time). A back-pages story that most readers skipped over might hurt the sales and reputation of a magazine slightly but as long as the featured stories were strong, the effect would be negligible. Novels though are free-standing and the novel gets that gets skipped over is the novel that goes unsold.

When Gold Medal signed John. D. MacDonald they knew were getting a skilled, prolific writer with a track record artistically and commercially successful short fiction. The same could be said about the signing of Donald Westlake, Lawrence Block, Joe Gores and many others. Publishing these first time authors was a remarkably low risk proposition.

Unfortunately for publishers today, there are no potential first time authors with those resumes. Publishers now have to roll the dice on inexperienced writers of unknown talent and productivity. In response to that change, they have taken various steps to mitigate the risk.

One response was the rise of the marketable blockbuster. The earliest example I can think of is the book Lace by Shirley Conran. If memory serves, Lace got a great deal of attention in the publishing world for Conran's huge advance, her lack of fiction-writing experience, and the role marketing played in the process. The general feeling was that the tagline ("Which one of you bitches is my mother? ") came first while the book itself was merely an afterthought.

More recently we have Dexter, a marketer's dream ("He's a serial killer who kills serial killers... It's torture porn you can feel good about!"). The author had a few books in his resume but nothing distinguished. The most notable was probably a collaboration with Star Trek actor Michael Dorn. The first book in the series, Darkly Dreaming Dexter was so poorly constructed that all of the principals had to act completely out of character to resolve the plot (tip for new authors: when a character casually overlooks her own attempted vivisection, it's time for a rewrite*).

The problems with the quality of the novel had no apparent effect on sales, nor did it prevent the character from appearing in a successful series of sequels and being picked up by Showtime (The TV show was handled by far more experienced writers who managed to seal up almost all of the plot holes).

The point here is not that Darkly Dreaming Dexter was a bad book or that publishing standards have declined. The point is that the economics have changed. Experienced fiction writers are more rare. Marketable concepts and franchises are more valuable, as is synergy with other media. The markets are smaller. There are fewer players. And much of the audience has a troublesome form of brand loyalty.

Normally of course brand loyalty is a plus, but books are an unusual case. If you convince a Coke drinker to also to drink Sprite you probably won't increase his overall soda consumption; you'll just have cannibalization. But readers who stick exclusively with one writer are severely underconsuming. Convince James Patterson readers to start reading Dean Koontz and you could double overall sales.

When most readers got their fiction either through magazines or by leafing through paperback racks, it was easy to introduce them to new writers. Now the situation is more difficult. One creative solution has been apostrophe series such as Tom Clancy's Op Center. Other people are credited with actually writing the books but the name above the title is there for branding purposes.

Which all leads us back to the original question: Why did thrillers become so dominant?

They tend to be easily marketable.

They are compatible with franchises.

They lend themselves to adaptation as big budget action movies.

Their somewhat impersonal style makes them suitable for ghosting or apostrophe branding.

They are, in short, they are what the market is looking for. As for me, I'm looking for the next reprint from Hard Case, but I might borrow the latest Turow after you're done with it.


* "Is that a spoiler?"
"No, sir. It was spoiled when I got here."

p.s. I was going to tie in with a branding situation Slim Jim snacks faced a few years ago but this post is running a bit long. Maybe I'll get back to it later.

The Decline of the Middle (Creative) Class

I suggested in an earlier post that the rise to dominance of the thriller had not been accompanied by a rise in quality and reputation. In this and the next post, I'll try to put some foundations under this claim.

Popular art is driven by markets and shifts in popular art can always be traced back, at least partly, to economic, social and technological developments as well as changes in popular taste. The emergence of genre fiction followed the rise of the popular magazine (check here for more). Jazz hit its stride as the population started moving to cities. Talking pictures replaced silents when the technology made them possible.

Crime fiction, like science fiction first appeared in response to demand from general interest magazines like the Strand then moved into genre specific magazines like Black Mask and a few years later, cheap paperbacks. The demand for short stories was so great that even a successful author like Fitzgerald saw them as a lucrative alternative to novels. There was money to be made and that money brought in a lot of new writers.

It seems strange to say it now but for much of the Twentieth Century, it was possible to make a middle class living as a writer of short fiction. It wasn't easy; you had to write well and type fast enough to melt the keys but a surprisingly large number of people managed to do it.

Nor were writers the only example of the new creative middle class. According to Rosy McHargue (reported by music historian Brad Kay) in 1925 there were two hundred thousand professional musicians in the United States. Some were just scraping by, but many were making a good living. (keep in mind that many restaurants, most clubs and all theaters had at least one musician on the payroll.) Likewise, the large number of newspapers and independent publishers meant lots of work for graphic artists.

I don't want to wax too nostalgic for this era. Sturgeon's Law held firmly in place: 95% of what was published was crap. But it was the market for crap that made the system work. It provided the freelance equivalent of paid training -- writers could start at least partially supporting themselves while learning their craft, and it mitigated some of the risk of going into the profession -- even if you turned out not to be good enough you could still manage food and shelter while you were failing.

It was also a remarkably graduated system, one that rewarded quality while making room for the aforementioned crap. The better the stories the better the market and the higher the acceptance rate. In 1935, Robert E. Howard made over $2,000 strictly through magazine sales. Later, as the paperback market grew, writers at the very top like Ray Bradbury or John O'Hara would also see their stories collected in book form.

Starting with Gold Medal Books, paperback originals became a force in 1950. This did cut into the magazine market and hastened the demise of the pulps but it made it easier than ever before to become a novelist. It was more difficult (though still possible) to make a living simply by selling short stories, but easier to make the transition to longer and more lucrative works.

It was, in short, a beautifully functioning market with an almost ideal compensation system for a freelance based industry. It produced some exceptionally high quality products that have generated billions of dollars and continue to generate them in resales and adaptations (not to mention imitations and unlicensed remakes). This includes pretty much every piece of genre fiction you can think written before 1970.

The foundation of that system, the short story submarket, is essentially dead and the economics and business models of the rest of the publishing industry has changed radically leading to the rise of marketing, the blockbuster mentality and what I like to call the Slim Jim conundrum.

Tune in next time.

Thrillers on Economics -- a quick digression

I've been working on a series of posts about the economics of crime novels (see here and here) and it got me thinking about economics in crime novels. I'm no expert but here's my incomplete survey.

George Goodman (a.k.a. "Adam Smith") once bemoaned the absence of business in American literature with the notable exception of John P. Marquand. With all due respect to the estimable Marquand (himself no stranger to the pulps), Goodman might have found what he was looking for if he had spent less time in high-end bookstores and more time in his corner drugstore looking at the books with the lurid covers.

Of the many crime novels built around businesses, the best might be Murder Must Advertise, a Lord Whimsey by Dorothy L. Sayers. The story is set in a London ad agency in the Thirties, a time when the traditional roles of the aristocracy were changing and "public school lads" were showing up in traditional bourgeois fields like advertising.

Sayers had been a highly successful copywriter (variations on some of her campaigns are still running today) and has sometimes been credited with coining the phrase "It pays to advertise." All this success did not soften her view of the industry, a view which is probably best captured by Whimsey's observation that truth in advertising is like yeast in bread.

But even if Sayers holds the record for individual event, the lifetime achievement award has got to go to the man whom many* consider the best American crime novelist, John D. MacDonald.

Before trying his hand at writing, MacDonald had earned an MBA at Harvard and over his forty year writing career, business and economics remained a prominent part of his fictional universe (one supporting character in the Travis McGee series was an economist who lived on a boat called the John Maynard Keynes). But it was in some of the non-series books that MacDonald's background moved to the foreground.

Real estate frequently figured in MacDonald's plots (not that surprising given given their Florida/Redneck Riviera settings). His last book, Barrier Island, was built around a plan to work federal regulations and creative accounting to turn a profit from the cancellation of a wildly overvalued project. In Condominium, sleazy developers dodge environmental regulations and building codes (which turned out to be a particularly bad idea in a hurricane-prone area).

Real estate also figures MacDonald's examination of televangelism, One More Sunday, as does almost every aspect of an Oral Roberts scale enterprise, HR, security, public relations, lobbying, broadcasting and most importantly fund-raising. It's a complete, realistic, insightful picture. You can find companies launched with less detailed business plans.

But MacDonald's best book on business may be A Key to the Suite, a brief and exceedingly bitter account of a management consultant deciding the future of various executives at a sales convention. Suite was published as a Gold Medal Original paperback in 1962. You could find a surprising amount of social commentary in those drugstore book racks, usually packaged with lots of cleavage.


* One example of many:

“To diggers a thousand years from now, the works of John D. MacDonald would be a treasure on the order of the tomb of Tutankhamen.” - KURT VONNEGUT

"The economics profession is in crisis"

This may sound strange but all this soul searching by economists like Mark Thoma makes me think that the field might be on the verge of extensive reassessment and major advances.

From the Economist's View:

The fact that the evidence always seems to confirm ideological biases doesn't give much confidence. Even among the economists that I trust to be as fair as they can be -- who simply want the truth whatever it might be (which is most of them) -- there doesn't seem to be anything resembling convergence on this issue. In my most pessimistic moments, I wonder if we will ever make progress, particularly since there seems to be a tendency for the explanation given by those who are most powerful in the profession to stick just because they said it. So long as there is some supporting evidence for their positions, evidence pointing in other directions doesn't seem to matter.

The economics profession is in crisis, more so than the leaders in the profession seem to understand (since change might upset their powerful positions, positions that allow them to control the academic discourse by, say, promoting one area of research or class of models over another, they have little incentive to see this). If, as a profession, we can't come to an evidence based consensus on what caused the single most important economic event in recent memory, then what do we have to offer beyond useless "on the one, on the many other hands" explanations that allow people to pick and choose according to their ideological leanings? We need to do better.

(forgot to block-quote this. sorry about the error)