JA Konrath’s post responds to Writers House president Simon Lipskar’s “all books are fungible” theory (written in support of big publishers and Apple over the DoJ suite), which claimed that “consumers can’t be harmed by some books being priced higher because books are essentially fungible.”

Konrath says, “on a personal note… Lipskar’s argument makes me sad.  Not just because, in suggesting that books are fungible, Lipskar implicitly devalues them.”

Of course, people are pissed at the idea of books being interchangeable, but is that the true sense of the matter—that all books are innately significant? And significant in an economic sense?

Is Lipskar devaluing books? Are all books implicitly “non-fungible”? What does the term “fungible,” in relation to a book, actually mean? Is it that all books must be equally important to all readers? Or that each, all things being equal, are of no real significance at all?

I would argue that at a Macro Level, books are indeed (effectively, if not literally) fungible!

Perhaps, when you do want to read and buy something important to you, then (and definitely according to Lipskar… ) you may find that particular item in the midlist (for a good price under the Agency model, and perhaps better than under Wholesale). However, this item, which is so important to you, may (and likely will) be wholly interchangeable to every other book to another reader. That is, unless it’s a bestseller, or possessing other social currency.

As the Active Voice says to Konrath:

if you give me a mass of 1,000 books I’ve never heard of before, by authors I’ve never heard of before, the books in that mass start out, in my mind, as fungible.

Lipskar’s argument was made to combat the claim that readers were being gouged by books being more expensive under the Agency model, by explaining that many books went down in price, too. Just not the bestsellers. He says, if you can’t afford a current bestseller, then you can find “another,” equally fungible book in the midlist for a more attractive price point. That’s the point of departure for many, that all books are the same—that the only consideration is price, and instead I would want to qualify that further: all books are fungible, except those produced to be otherwise. Ironically, bestsellers are those non-fungible items, but not for the reasons that proponents for unique books argue.

The trick to this argument is, not that the bestseller book you were after may be more expensive, but on why is it more? There are a few answers: one is that publishers (enabled by the Agency model) can charge more, and stiff you for it; however, from an economic angle, it is that what you are actually buying is the status of a “bestseller,” quite a different point from any “literary merit” entirely (“merit” not being a judgemental statement at all.) That’s a publisher argument, that if people want to buy-in to a bestseller—to the experience of it—they must pay for the timely access to the text. The ebook environment breaks this timeliness down somewhat (as it should!) but there is still something to be said for the status of reading a bestseller.

None of this is degrading literature, what it does set up, is that the concept of the “bestseller” is an industry-led program to heighten certain books for profit (well, “duh”). Further, the sense of a book being unique, and thus “non-fungible,” is that of communicability. While i have used the label “bestseller” here, it could be anything, it could be Shakespeare, but pivotally it is an item which has a great, non-transferrable meaning. King Lear is not The DaVinci Code, but my own favourites, The Flame Alphabet or House of Leaves are interchangeable to an uninformed reader, both lacking communicative social cachet. The paradoxical point is, that if a book is not to be “fungible,” it must “appeal” to a broader public to be seen as valuable (hence 50 Shades of Grey, and the latest Snooki book being “worth” a million. It’s. Appeal. Is. Generic. (Fairly gained or not.) And so it will sell.

The popular upshot of this is, if you as a reader actually want a “bestseller,” then you actually have to pay more to get one, to support the PR which communicates its certain branding—in fact, not paying more, will not support the industry which otherwise merely exists to create them in the first place (the “public relations” industry.)

It’s a bit of a vicious circle there, but it is an entertaining one.

Bestsellers cost more under the Agency model? Yes, because they then support the “bestseller” industry, which supports the mid-list. Take out the “industry,” and the midlist will find its own way (as Konrath does like to show), but don’t then bemoan the loss of the “must have” seasonal books, those that the whole of society deems as non-“fungible.”

What annoys me with Konrath’s response here, is that he obviously does have an axe to grind with publishing. No, I’m not going to say that his point of view isn’t actually quite valid, generally speaking, but that his ascribing publishers and agents as “evil,” in costing authors money, and putting unfair pressure on reader spending, is borderline paranoid. Perhaps what everyone is doing is just trying to find a “fair price” which will do the best for them, too?

Perhaps there is something to be said for trying to find a business solution to a fall in revenues, before just giving in to the digital inevitability? (Also note, there is a lot more that publishers could be doing to heighten their positions as well! But gleefully claiming we can do without their largesse, is ignoring that this “waste” does in fact add something to the whole field—as much as we may debate to what extent this value is—it is value—and in fact, I argument that their value is in social currency, in “importance,” in raising general awareness of an otherwise fungible item.

The fact is, big publishers and/or a big voice makes the zeitgeist, losing that may not be a bad thing, but it is definitely a “thing.”

Otherwise, books are fungible, and that may suit smaller, niche authors very well. In fact, this may not be arguing at all versus Konrath’s ultimate position, it may only be arguing against a certain bestseller genre that many do care about. Let that go, and books will sell, at a stepped price, much as both Agency and Wholesale models suggest.

View it like thus:

• Traditional publishing stands for “non-fungible bestsellers,” supporting a false economy of costs and profits for all other book items.
• Amazon stands for “fungible” (without value judgement on my, nor their parts). What they really do, is offer a level playing field for both socially current, and also non-transferable books.

That actually doesn’t bother me so much, but it is factual.

It appears that when contracting to write Watchmen, Moore and Gibbons agreed for DC to retain the rights to publish and create derivatives based on the work, until the piece ceased being “in print” —something the two now say they considered at the time to be of limited provision.

… it’s now 25 years on, and counting…

Since then, DC has kept the work in print, has created merchandise, and produced a film. All of which both Moore and Gibbons have been paid full royalties for (money which has since broken their friendship, based on Moore rejecting DC’s overtures–via Gibbons (Seraphemera Books, 2012)).

At the time, Moore said “the way it works, if I understand it, is that DC owns it [Watchmen] for the time they’re publishing it, and then it reverts to Dave and me, so we can make all the money from the Slurpee cups” (Heintjes). His understanding was that if “DC have not used the characters for a year, they’re ours. … basically they’re not ours, but if DC is working with the characters in our interests then they might as well be. On the other hand, if the characters have outlived their natural life span and DC doesn’t want to do anything with them, then after a year we’ve got them and we can do what we want with them, which I’m perfectly happy with” (The Comics Journal, 1987).

In 2006, Moore told the New York Times that on the 15th anniversary of Watchmen, he informed DC—then asking for Moore’s involvement in new material, that “you have managed to successfully swindle me, and so I will never work for you again” (Itzkoff, 2008).

He is more than entitled to change his opinion, however, as quoted above, none of this business was a surprise to him. The fact that his opinion on his contract has changed, does not alter that he entered into it freely, and in full awareness of the conditions. Furthermore, this kind of contract is not unusual for any published author, wherein a property which continues to have financial worth is to be kept in print for the benefits of both parties—instead of being taken out of the publisher’s hands prematurely, and used to solely benefit the (main) creative agent, “main,” but still only one of many (see here the expectation within the business for their investment on other creative agents, such as editorial, to be repaid).

Yes, in retrospect, Moore could have had a better deal with DC. But the situation then changed—for the whole industry, on the invention of the ‘graphic novel’—and who would then expect a company to give over the rights to a hugely successful book? Did Moore expect to win-out more than he has, first by being published, and on being paid ongoing royalties? Yes. The fact he has not, is not foul play on the corporation’s part, it’s business (I hate how often I have to state this on the blog here, and while I will not claim that any of this is ideal, any instance where the creators are paid for their work, going on 25 years later, is simply not an ‘unethical’ business practice).

As to Moore’s comments (shared by many of his proponents), that it is artistically wrong for there to be any prequel series at all, my response is simple: comics are a collaborative media! In fact, on regarding this case, see Dave Gibbons—Moore’s own Watchmen collaborator—and his more nuanced take on derivative works. Then deal with it.

I understand his being upset, and it could be a better situation. But no, I don’t see DC, nor the new artists taking part in making derivative works, as an abuse. Would it be a nice surprise if all rights to Watchmen were returned to Moore? Yes. Of course. And further, if younger artists pursued their own work instead of working on top of Moore’s? Again, yes (though Moore has burnt himself there, and lost the high ground of claiming the best for new artists, by charging that there has been nothing of note in the industry since his famous works. Personally, I would trade Moore’s work for Sandman any day, indeed, take Gaiman’s Miracle Man for Moore’s own, precursor version—so, mister ego may need some perspective on the breadth of the comic industry.) New creator-owned works would be best, but demonising artists and readers for wanting more? Not a tenable position for a published (read: publicly available) author.

Also, let’s not get into the idea of the genius of originality, as building on others work neither negates the original, nor invalidates its derivatives (see the original, pre-Shakespearean version of The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet, by Arthur Brooke, from 1562!)

All in all, is it a perfect situation? No. But neither is it unethical nor exploitative.

Ultimately, it mainly looks as if Moore did not, and does not, understand the concept of a collaborative media. As such, I can respect him as an artist, but not as a published creator.

References

A Portal to Another Dimension. (1987, July). The Comics Journal.

Heintjes, Tom. (1986, March). Alan Moore On (Just About) Everything. The Comics Journal.

Itzkoff, Dave. (2006, March 12). The Vendetta Behind ‘V for Vendetta’. The New York Times.

Seraphemera Books. Interview With Alan Moore. http://www.seraphemera.org/seraphemera_books/AlanMoore_Page1.html

“Ironically, consumers are likely to win no matter what happens with the case because the self-publishing gate is open and the horses are out of the barn.”

… really? “consumers will win”? To that, I respond:

I can quite reliably say that publishers will lose, that’s one thing. But importantly, so too will authors.

What I love about this point of view, is that a win for consumers must en come at the expense of the people, oh, you know, writing the product! (And also editing and designing it. I also, absolutely agree that the traditional publishing industry has not played their position well, and have made bad choices, and lost a lot of good will.)

Is that really what consumers, or let’s call them ‘readers’ want?

How do I know that this will be the outcome? Think of it this way: go into a book store (if you can—and he’s, there’s another incumbent group who have messed up), look at the number of publishers represented… ok? Now check out the number of authors displayed within those imprints… an order of magnitude more there, right?

Now look at labour history. Consider what happens to individual worker terms and conditions when they must negotiate with a huge company, for each and every contract (also multiplying the data points many times, for each contractual instance (also note that Amazon does play hard on these negotiations))…

Yes, prices will come down, and that will suggest to authors to go self-publishing (not a wholly terrible idea at all!), and Amazon will still want to make more money (again, perfectly fine).

How do you think those Amazon-held distribution contracts begin to change?.. I do think it’s fair that Amazon will not want to increase the price of ebooks, that would upset their paying customers, so…

While prices come down for consumers, the margin has to be made up somewhere, and the question is: who has the smallest voice then?

We know who the answer points to. Right?

Instead, I think it truly behoves commentators to ask the question:

If prices come down, who is paying for the product?

Addendum: One idea I’d propose, is for authors to join together in collective bargaining (via agents, or the remnants of old, “big” publishing, reinvented for the digital age) —bit of a fanciful notion isn’t that?

Addendum 2: Note that there is not a price-fixing lawsuit for pbooks?… that’s because there are channels in place there to provide actual competition (personally, I think publishers should have gotten on to the whole “independent” ebook distribution (see: booki.sh) earlier, but regardless, it isn’t there for them—for us—right now…)

About publishers protecting their pbook channels, by inflating their ebook offerings? Yes, and I covered that point, that they should have stepped pricing for ebooks, to better capture *new* readers in the last post.)

The Future of Authorship

The joke of this legal action is—and perhaps, this may yet be a saving grace for the publishers involved—that while ebook prices are up (to the consumer), the publisher’s profits (on each ebook copy sold) are actually down. That’s because Amazon was classically involved in predatory pricing under the previous Wholesaler model. Amazon was making around a $5 loss on every e-copy they sold, in order to cement their Kindle platform. That is perfectly understood. Amazon bought under a fixed price of $15 (which went straight to the publisher), but under-charged consumers (“damaging” the overall market). Under Agency, where the publisher <em>continues</em> to charge $15, it is now straight to the consumer, the <em>publishers</em> lose $5 to Apple/Amazon/etc, acting only as their agents.

Is that a defence? That they have always charged the same, and are losing more money now. Is “price-fixing” only concerned with the price to the consumer? The DOJ seems to be looking only at the price to consumers, and not the underlying economics of the holistic picture…

However, even given this loss (a likely defence), there is still an issue here, regarding the ‘favoured nation’ clauses made with distributors (eg: Apple), made to guarantee them (both) a benchmark figure from which to negotiate sales deals, via the public consciousness of relative ebook worth (and that’s one of the prevailing fears in book publishing, that the consumer may lose their understanding of a e/book’s cost, on the back of Amazonian predatory pricing! But, did consumers ever really “get” that? —Or indeed, is it the consumer’s role to make the act of cognitive dissonance for them?) That is, publishers want to set a resistant price for ebooks in the public mind-share, to buffer their business against discounting.

Because their profit margin is still important. Whilst publishers are making less per copy sold, their overall profits are up (see recent earnings calls). That’s because, under Agency, per copy they may be making less than under the (predatory) Wholesale charges—a wholesaler figure originally designed to match the publisher’s share of profit for a print copy to a bricks and mortar store… however… that is <em>per copy.</em>

Traditional print has never been about “per copy,” not with the absurd levels of almost 50% returns from the bookshop, to the publisher, in return for cost; for the minuscule 6 months (at best!) of shelf life for a title, etc.

So their profits show that a $5 loss per copy—<em>selling-through</em> on each transaction, in fact translates to ~$2.50 over the balance of losing one whole copy of each print pair delivered.

This would seem to be a problem with their accounting (ha! “Problem”), where they accurately report profits, but not fully accounting for the defrayment of costs. If they were hoping to show this in comparison evidence to price-fixing allegations, perhaps it would do them better to be upfront, and to work their figures to “break even” with their profits from the last years of print, to more accurately price ebooks at points like $12-10 for the first 6 months, $9-10 the next year, and stepping it down over the long tail to a bottom of $3 indefinitely.

Whilst this would only be “breaking even” (traditionally, not a very popular business move) the likelihood is that a more attractive price point would attract more buyers (ironically, as Amazon has already learnt in its predation.) Thereby—using their own history of pricing at $15 to consumer (Agency) and to wholesaler (Wholesale), combined with matching profits based on sell-through—publishers would be able to control pricing, and still claim “innocence” (on the balance of acting as a responsible, business-aware company.)

Overall, neither side seem to be arguing a fair fight, it is true that Amazon is no one’s friend! But then, those “poor” publishers are actually doing better than they were before electronic publishing, via an obfuscation of their business practices.

Perhaps the real issue is, that both these activities suggest that the players are betting on what they consider to be a limited field. That is, Amazon is trying to snatch the market from the publishers, but the publishers themselves are focussed on an ever shrinking group of readers (shrinking in transitioning to ebooks), whilst if, playing together, perhaps they could grow the market for everyone?

And that’s there
amongst all my treasured phrases.
This is why I write.
For the ambiguity.
And can I describe it?

27 Feb 2005–4 April 2012

Do we remember less when we read e-books? Some neuroscientists think we do, because e-books don’t provide the same sorts of spatial queues that printed books do. Apparently location cues are a very powerful aid to remembering things—and just the fact that we know about how far through a book those particular things are helps us fix them in our memory.

While this is quite a significant area for further study, an ebook also solves an innumerable number of issues (in the proper use of the term) otherwise related to print. Simple things like hyperlinked indexes, and the opportunity to find and quote text. Of course, these are continuations of the book as we know it.

More than this, however, are the more radical reimaginings of reading made possible by electronic books, such as Rapid, Serial Visual Presentation (RSVP) (see Russell, Hull & Wesley; Mross and Kintsch, 1985; Till, Mross and Kintsch, 1988; Sharkey and Sharkey, 1992), which posits a practical view toward expressing text as horizontal flow, at a fixed level, at a speed controlled by the reader, as a way to better aid comprehension (imagine use of this by dyslexic readers, and for speed reading (see: Afterthought Speed Reader and Simian Speed Reader apps for Apple’s iOS.)

Or question whether this is, in fact, the issue, or merely an issue. Winger and Payne’s Comprehension and Retention of Nonlinear Text (1996) (see also: Salmeron, Canas, Kintsch and Fajardo, 2005), along with the idea of a ‘cognitive load’ in hypertext (Niedenhauser, Reynolds, Salmen and Skolmoski, 2000) does suggest that hypertext reading—different, but related to electronic reading—damages recall. However, it also trains our brain to analyse navigational cues much more efficiently, a very important neurophysical change for our world of information overload (Carr argues the pessimistic view in The Shallows (a darling book of the embattled publishing industry), while Nick Bilton’s I Live in the Future argues for hope.

The point is—as I have argued round the long way—that there are problems with ereading, but there also appear to be uses for it. Why not pursue both (especially when we can see how easy it is to ‘turn on’ one on top of the other. Without loss)?

This is a sincere question, as, once again, the further I go in this research, the less sure I am.

This post first appeared on the Curtin University ICT & Enabling Technologies Blog

Your brain on drugs books. Image from Yeah Write! http://yeahwriters.tumblr.com/post/7850871722

And of most interest is Techdirt’s article, Libraries Are The Best Counter To Piracy… So Of Course Publishers Are Trying To Limit Them. In it, Masnick recounts out that as O’Reilly has long pointed out, giving consumers a convenient place to locate good content is a sure-fire way to combat piracy (instead of some other kind of knee-jerk response like the US government’s SOPA), and under the best of controlled circumstances.

“Controlled circumstances” is a hugely significant term, because as Amazon has long understood, it doesn’t matter how much you “sell” an individual e/book for, if you get access to the user-data to better drive targeted e/book sales in the future. See how their Kindle “with special offers” is so cheap (and may actually be a positive to user’s experiences, if Amazon can mine their long tail of products tailored to a user’s metadata.)

The New York Times talks about the strange attitude publishers have to libraries lending out ebooks:

In their eyes, borrowing an e-book from a library has been too easy. Worried that people will click to borrow an e-book from a library rather than click to buy it, almost all major publishers in the United States now block libraries’ access to the e-book form of either all of their titles or their most recently published ones.

But of course, where these attempted borrowers actually likely to buy the e/book at all? Or would they instead merely find another, different object to borrow—or perhaps, the same ebook to steal elsewhere?

To which article Masnick, again, says that “this suggests that if libraries didn’t exist, and somebody tried to set one up, publishers would use the same logic to refuse to sell traditional books for that purpose.”

And this is all wonderfully current to my novel Bibliotek (whose premise came about some two years ago now…)! That publishers fear the setup of libraries, because the lending of “traditional books for that purpose” would threaten (Amazon’s) scheme for collecting and targeting ebook user data.

That was the birth of the novel’s “Metatext.”

“Suspiciously”? … “Noticed”? Well, maybe neither of these two things!

However, I have. Just to say, “no I’m not dead, and neither is my part in Platform Thing.”

But! My ‘downtime’ is taking over for a while: marking essays, tutoring and writing for my other blog.

… Also, I have a fully marked-up novel and chapters of theory for my PhD to play with over the summer. Yay? Yay!

But I’ll be back!

Thanks.

The next morning was warmer than I expected.

‘Did you learn the lessons of my songs?’ Asked Mithril.

Smiling, I remembered what he had sung.
‘Sometimes I think there weren’t any…
But at other times I stop, and consider,
perhaps there was wisdom in the wit of it?
The terrible responsibly of it all?
Romance of Branneth, the power of Jacob,
and tragedy in the families of burnt circle?’

‘Don’t be absurd Dalsarion. An it harm none
but yourself, tell what you will. Let that be the only law of the tale.’
He paused and looked under the brim of my hat.
‘You have proved yourself well in that, my son.’

My foot sank down into the grass. For it was summer now.
I nodded. I waved him goodbye.
Wondered, in how quickly may my tracks be dusted
with dry leaves? And noble Gilfrey’s too,
as she took her steps beside me.

At the end of the Elven celebration of Summer’s leaving,
I was cast out.

Woken in the still morning and led, along the straight road
from the Elven capital. The only one leading away.

I was exiled.
By the rule of an uneasy father’s heart.

20

Dalsarion travelled out
ready to become a hero.
He could prove his worth,
and he must.

He was called ‘knight’ in these other lands
—an echo of another privilege.

The Elves whispered him too.
They had their long lives and longer still,
their memories. And they had their heroes:
of swords and those to sight,
champions to tears and to laughter.
They called him Arc’C’estath Tainaq,
to them he was ‘the twining rose.’

On and on, with many parties questing,
he moved.
In his wake he made tales
and they in turn became fabric
to be cut and to be fitted to their audience.

Though he never found what he looked for,
here are some of those unfulfilling tales.

* * * * *

In a run-down tavern,
young Dalsarion had arrived, days,
perhaps weeks had passed
since he’d left the shelter of the Elves.

And he was gravely unhappy.

As his coins slipped-merrily away,
an indulgence to his self-inflicted pain,
he sat and brooded.

Many patrons wondered at the boy sitting
lonely by that corner table. Day after day.

And in this enshrouded and smoky place,
a case of mistaken identity and—hopefully
soon forgotten, and most fatalistic practice
on our Dalsarion’s part–
leads us to this tale.

* * * * *

‘You are Dal the Dark?’
A voice from the gloom asked me.
I looked over at the shadow’d patch,
looked for some time and answered
with no such consideration, ‘yes.’

‘Ah! You are he!
I told my brother so.
We’ve been awaiting your arrival
… I add, for some time!

‘But no matter now, you are he!’

Obliged, I nodded.

I leaned in, as much to catch a glimpse
of my eager pursuer
as I was to catch the fiery warmth,
and to keep with my brooding.

‘You do look the sort of man.’
Said by my stealthy-dressed maiden.
‘You must come with me now!’

And I did not disagree.

We two went hurrying down dusk-lit streets.
Narrow like the tongue of a very rich man.

The twisted, and the convoluted turns ending
at a good, solid oak door.

Which when opened, I was led through.

Inside as our eyes came each to rest
upon a young man sitting there,
the tension was pulled high. Ready, ready,
to drop.

They each gave one momentous glance to the other
twin—for surely no two were as alike
as these in their parentage, nor their time of birth.

‘Good Sir Dal,’ they both began,
though this man/boy soon dropped his gaze
—yet still, I saw his smile.
And just let his sister go.

‘We come to you, knowing full strange our cause,’
her lilted lines went on,
‘And ask of you,
bless’d by your elders, our rulers,
to judge and decide our worth.’
Hmmm.
‘Who of us, shall live?’
Oh no!
‘Choose, and upon your desire act!’

At this high point, where my pulse acted,
and naught else—I was stunned.
They preceded to strip!

And my! What fine specimens they were.

Once finished, they took off my own clothes,
while at my bidding, told their names.
The girl’s? She was Dash’eel.
And the boy, Dashiel.

Both preferring simply ‘Dash.’

I need not describe those actions after,
they were enough for no slacking
of pulse did I suffer.

It seemed that they of this village
followed an obscure and far flung religion.
How it had come by here? I am not to say. Nor how it is now.
And a child from birth was determined,
with a bride of some sex for their own.

Yet in some occasions
—like the birthing of twins—
there were not enough
of that one determined bride!
And a choice be made,
by as religious a man as possible, must be.

To thee, who he desirest most,
the prize of winner goes. And a wedding.
To the other? Death.

This, was what they assumed.

Three days of this, where they each tried to claim me
and at the end, one of me, who must with spirited-breath
kiss his approval and go…

And me to Dash
—Dash’eel of course—
did with my leaving bless.

And she was happy.
And she was sad.
For never more did she see
her brother Dash.

Because I took him with me.

He truly was not my most desired prize
—though charming and most good—
he was too thoughtful, and his silence
brought me questions.

But, at least he wasn’t dead!

21

Just a short story here.

Dalsarion and a band of adventurers
made parley
with a wild party of trolls
they’d met, for some un-recalled reason,
deep down within a mine.
Abandoned.
And most outnumbered,
Dal and his band fled.

To the top they made it first
and on reaching thus Dalsarion stopped them, and
with Glamour turned,
a simple stone to full-weighed table and food.

He bade them sit with strenuous tones and
eat! But not this one dish, he’d take it for himself.

His companions watched
as calmly he strode to the shaft, then
with flick of wrist served
and threw the meal down, down, down!

Walked away
and did not flinch
at the column of Troll-killing fire
that boomed behind him.

He knew they’d get a kick
from his Crepes Suzette
down that old-abandoned mine.

* * * * *

It was shortly after this adventure
after some four happy years,
that Dalsarion and Dash
parted company.

His thoughtful silence and charming thought of action
in time had ended up attracting Dalsarion’s desire after all.

They had such a passionate affair together.

But as things sometimes do,
it now came to an end.
And they went their separate ways.

For all his time of life,
Dalsarion would at times fondly wonder,
had he not been too quick to judge that winner?
The brother was after-all,
the most desirable of the two.

Where did Dash go? Well,
I do know. And a pretty tale it is.
But this is Dalsarion’s tale, and wouldn’t it be rude
to leave it so unfinished now?

22

And now the last of these three
most unfulfilling tales I shall tell.
Where Dalsarion finds something of little worth.
And ends up travelling the world to give it up.

* * * * *

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