On the Survival of Rats in the Slush Pile | Page 5

an example of circumstance, drawn from the film industry. In
the 1950s, the actor Montgomery Clift turned down the lead parts in
four films. He declined (1) the part in Sunset Boulevard which was
later played by William Holden; (2) the Marlon Brando part in On the
Waterfront; (3) the James Dean part in East of Eden; and (4) the Paul
Newman part in Somebody Up There Likes Me. As you will already
have noticed, if you know anything about the history of the cinema,
each of the actors who picked up a part that had been rejected by
Montgomery Clift used that opportunity to establish his own name; and
they all became stars as a result. None of which would have happened
if Clift had decided to play any of the parts himself.
I even compressed my idea about circumstance into a mathematical
formula, or expression (of sorts):
S :: C
This formula holds true, I suggested, where S = Success (however
defined), and C = Circumstance (as defined above). The symbol :: was
introduced by William Oughtred in 1631, and it means 'varies as to'. S ::
C is therefore a compact way of saying that
Success varies according to Circumstance.
Both Taleb and I, therefore, approaching matters from wholly different
directions, have concluded that success in the arts, and particularly
success as experienced by writers, is a random event. It is not
determined by hard work, who you know, or talent (not, at any rate,
above a certain level).

You, the reader, will probably resist the Taleb/Allen conclusion at this
point; but you at least are thoughtful enough to be reading this essay, so
please reserve final judgement on the causes of the black-swan
phenomenon until you have read the rest of the argument.
Taleb and I are not alone in reaching our conclusion about the effects of
randomness aka circumstance.
In his autobiography Nudity in a Public Place, the actor John Nettles
quoted a friend of his whom he described as 'a great literary figure and
a major celebrity'. This individual remarked to Nettles: 'Nothing is
more common today than successful men with no talent.... Success and
celebrity do not necessarily depend on talent in these dog days and it is
a good thing you never ever believe they do, otherwise you might miss
out on the joke of the century.'
On a less elevated level than John Nettles's friend, one of the former
Spice girls recently spoke with some awe about the popularmusic
business; she was amazed, she said, that 'so many people with so little
talent are making so much money.'
The remainder of this essay will enlarge on the idea that huge literary
and/or commercial success for writers, who are not already famous
names, comes (if it ever does) in the form of a black swan, or a random
event. The discussion will then be used as the basis for generating
strategies which might be adopted by those who work in the book trade.
The strategies will, however, be of particular importance to writers -
especially if they wish to avoid lasting psychological, and hence
physical, damage; and if they wish to avoid allocating scarce resources
(e.g. time and energy) to an almost certainly futile project.
Part 2: The experiment with rats
The experiment described
Taleb is under contract to produce a book on black swans; and, at the
time of writing this essay, he has posted a draft chapter from the book
on his web site. The present title of the chapter is 'On the Invisibility of

the Drowned Worshippers', which is a reference to the work of Francis
Bacon in the seventeenth century.
Bacon, it seems, was once shown a set of portraits of men who had
survived shipwrecks; these portraits had been commissioned by the
Church authorities. The subjects of the portraits were all good
Christians: before embarking on a voyage they had taken the steps
recommended by the Church for those in peril from the sea; these
preparations no doubt included going to communion, spending a great
deal of time praying, and, I imagine, making a substantial contribution
to Church funds.
The result of these Christian preparations was that, when their ship
sank, lo and behold, God rewarded them by saving their lives: hence
their portraits, which were presented by the Church authorities as an
example to others.
It was Francis Bacon who asked one of those questions that you're not
supposed to ask. Where, he enquired, were the portraits of those
mariners who, before their voyage, had also gone to communion, said
their prayers, and made a contribution to Church funds, but had
nevertheless drowned? These were the 'drowned worshippers' who had
become invisible. The Church, through some oversight, had not
mentioned them, or commissioned their portraits.
The drowned worshippers