> Again, please, Does Gwern have anything that sounds as striking as “Empires Without Farms: The Case of Venice” or was that example a tacit hat tip to Brett Devereaux’s work?
I don’t quite see the link to Devereaux here. But, if anything, I think Devereaux is not at all similar to the writing style in the “Empire without farms” thing here. On ACOUP, he just bluntly tells you what the plan is and then executes it. He does engaging content and funny stuff, but it is sprinkled throughout the text rather than being a gimmicky hook to draw the reader in. For example,
Starts out with one paragraph about where we are in the series of blog posts and a super zoomed out description of what the series is about.
Then a paragraph about the fact that he had been planning an alternative ordering for the blog posts. If I don’t already care, that’s not going to make me care.
Then we finally get a direct no-frills statement describing the specific question to be answered in this post. It’s blunt and it doesn’t ask a “get ready for a surprise” type question.
I like it. This is a confident and adult writing style. To me,
“Venice ruled half the Mediterranean. And yet… it had no farms. How do you have an empire without farms?”
Comes off as an author a trying to convince the reader that they have something clever to say. Almost always this is the result of worrying too much about style.
IMO, the best way to come up with a clever phrasing is to start by writing down a direct version first, to figure out what you really want to say. Then, just don’t write a clever phrasing, the reader will appreciate your respect for their time.
You’re right. I was just riffing on the implied subject matter based on the title of Gwern's imaginary essay and how it reminds me of something that Devereaux would write about. In asking if he had anything that sounds as striking as the title that’s as far as I was taking the link between the two.
The ‘serialized’ voice that Devereaux uses works. Especially when you start from the beginning. I only hopped around a few posts while browsing his archive, but what I’m imagining is from the first post in 2019 all the way until the more recent one you shared, is an ongoing conversation. [1] Or something like a tour (“Welcome to my collection!”). Confident is a good way to describe the style. I like how I feel immediately orientated about the subject matter and the context surrounding how the writing came about.
Here’s a similar introduction from 2022:
> This week we’re going to start tackling a complex and much debated question: ‘how bad was the fall of Rome (in the West)?’ This was the topic that won the vote among the patrons of the ACOUP Senate. The original questions here were ‘what caused the loss of state capacity during the collapse of the Roman Empire in the West’ and ‘how could science fiction better reflect such a collapse or massive change?’ By way of answer, I want to boil those questions down into something a bit more direct: how bad was the fall of Rome in the West?
I deliberately sought out the introduction of an essay that was the beginning of a series instead of one that is...Part IVb. Whoever is reading Part IVb of the history of "the heavy infantry of the ancient Greek poleis" is probably too invested and enthused not to care about meta-commentary about alternative sequencing for the series. The quote above is from a Part I entry and I can’t say that the meta-commentary that similarly starts this off makes me less interested in it. The intrigue is set early on and with confidence. If I didn’t care before, well I do now. I sort of feel compelled to care. I have at least a weeks worth of lectures to catch up on about the fall of Western Rome and there’s apparently a senate’s worth of similarly-invested readers who have already deliberated that the severity of its collapse is of utmost importance this week.
`Jach madę a comment elsewhere about how “style is more important when you want to reach someone who hasn't heard of you.” [2] The thing is that in Devereaux’s case most of the essays that I’ve found begin with this ‘casual professorial’ sort of tone. I’m meandering and I don’t want to conclude all of this with a point that misinterprets your own to forge the upper-hand in an argument that doesn’t exist.
Referring back to the sample “Farm” essay:
> Venice ruled half the Mediterranean. And yet… it had no farms. How do you have an empire without farms?
I don’t think that this is cleverly phrased or that it's a set up for something clever later on. At least I don’t think so if we’re using the word in a way that evokes strokes of ingenuity and not with a negative connotation, like ‘trite’ or ’slick’. It may be ‘clever’ in a sense like “This sounds like the intro from a page straight of a pop history NYT best seller”. I could go with that. Yeah, it is indicative of something I probably wouldn’t care to read not only because it comes across as ‘clever’, but more so unsophisticated. Let us bear in mind however, that this is a softball introduction used to make a point. It looks like neither of us are convinced that it does so successfully anyhow.
Devereaux’s second post, and first essay on acoup.blog start off:
> Evaluating armor designs, especially in works of fantasy or speculative fiction, can be a tricky business. Often times, we can see a design and know something is off about it, but not quite what. Or alternatively, fans and internet commentators will blast this or that design in TV or a movie simply because it does not conform to their own narrow vision of what armor is ‘supposed’ to look like. I’ve seen fictional examples of gambesons, muscle cuirasses, mirror-plates and pectorals all mocked by self-appointed expects – and these are armors that were worn historically!
> So how can we do better assess if armor ‘makes sense,’ even when it is a non-historical design?
From what I could find, this is the sole departure from the ’serialized’, ‘casual professorial’ voice I described earlier. What would you call this? I think it lacks the air of sophistication and in media res meta-commentary that the rest of his writing begins with. To `Jach’s point it does appear to stylistically serve as an introduction of its own to the author himself.
Informative is what I’d call it. And there are so many different ways to inform the reader depending on the circumstance.
> Venice ruled half the Mediterranean. And yet… it had no farms. How do you have an empire without farms?
This is uninformative. Clever? If information is to be turned like a trick, for sure.
I don’t quite see the link to Devereaux here. But, if anything, I think Devereaux is not at all similar to the writing style in the “Empire without farms” thing here. On ACOUP, he just bluntly tells you what the plan is and then executes it. He does engaging content and funny stuff, but it is sprinkled throughout the text rather than being a gimmicky hook to draw the reader in. For example,
https://acoup.blog/2026/01/16/collections-hoplite-wars-part-...
Starts out with one paragraph about where we are in the series of blog posts and a super zoomed out description of what the series is about.
Then a paragraph about the fact that he had been planning an alternative ordering for the blog posts. If I don’t already care, that’s not going to make me care.
Then we finally get a direct no-frills statement describing the specific question to be answered in this post. It’s blunt and it doesn’t ask a “get ready for a surprise” type question.
I like it. This is a confident and adult writing style. To me,
“Venice ruled half the Mediterranean. And yet… it had no farms. How do you have an empire without farms?”
Comes off as an author a trying to convince the reader that they have something clever to say. Almost always this is the result of worrying too much about style.
IMO, the best way to come up with a clever phrasing is to start by writing down a direct version first, to figure out what you really want to say. Then, just don’t write a clever phrasing, the reader will appreciate your respect for their time.