Just Finished: Poor People, William T. Vollman
Richistan, Robert Frank
Don't read these books back to back. You could get whiplash.
After I overcame my revulsion for the cuteisms of "Richistan," "Richistani," and "Richistanis" (not to mention "instapreneurs"), Richistan was pretty readable. In all, though, Richistan seemed the product of a mind steeped in journalese, and not just any old journalese, either, but that of the Wall Street Journal. I don't know if Robert Frank is simply one of the WSJ writers (good cop) whom most people seem to separate from the editors (bad cop) prone to unreconstructed Gilded Age musings, or if he writes WSK editorials, but Richistan reads, in a few places, as if its writer had to perform an uneasy balancing act.
The germ of the book apparently began at a boat show, when someone remarked to Frank, "You look at all these boats and you'd think everyone's making loads of money. It's like it's a different country." Well, golly gee: "Today's rich had formed their own virtual country. They were, in fact, wealthier than most nations...," Frank writes. "They were creating Richistan." (This last sentence is given its own paragraph.)
Frank says "Almost anyone, anywhere can make a fortune today with the right idea." He fails to add "and the right amount of capital." Then he gives a quick rundown of "arcane, oddball products" that have made fortunes. Oddly, most of them seem food-based: an updated mozzarella cheese with "ideal melting properties," Double Bubble redux, salsa, meat products, potato products, baked goods.... While new, improved mozzarella clearly is based on some sort of an idea, a Tyson's is a Tyson's is a Tyson's, for which plenty of capital already existed and so, presumably, did the idea. This unconscious undercutting of the shiny new theory of Richistan happens more than once.
Frank plumbs the depths of the "service heart," in a chapter on 'butler boot camp' (taught by a former Marine). He writes "If you ask any butlers in training why they decided to spend the rest of their lives catering to the whims of the rich, they'll inevitably mention their 'service heart'." One trainee, who had come to butler boot camp with previous experience, says she would "sometimes ask myself, 'Why is it so important to me to get him the right kind of potato chips? ...What is wrong with me?' But then I realized there are others out there like me. I really feel like I've found out what I was meant to do." This has the whiff of the Wal-Mart smiley face.
The chapter on "performance philanthropy" made a certain amount of sense. I opted out of tithing to United Way due to its chairman's misuse of funds; I was saddened to learn that the Nature Conservancy had plopped vacation homes on some of its land (marshlands, if I'm recalling this right); and then there was Red Cross post-9-11. I've read too often about how little of your charity dollar goes to mission and how much to administration and perks. This chapter focuses on a rich techy who specializes in an oxymoronic pursuit: entrepreneurial charity. His region is Ethiopia and his track record seems impressive: 1,657 wells, 190 schools, 99 health clinics, and 24 large-animal vet clinics. He says his projects "sometimes cost half as much as similar projects run by the big aid groups." The oversight, ultimately, is his alone, taking the dictum "If you want something done right, do it yourself" in a new direction. I have the nagging sense, though, that there are far too few rich techies to get this particular job done.
