Michael Pollan, author of The Omnivore’s Dilemma and The Botany of Desire, made this plain yet meaty declaration concerning best food practices in a 2007 article called “Unhappy Meals” for TheNew York Times Magazine. It has resonated with me since I read it recently. Deceptively simple, each sentence contains multitudes of implications about food and eating habits that Pollan explains further into his article. This Pollan Doctrine has inspired my own literary interpretation that can serve as the basis for what I see as best reading practices:
“Read books. Often. Mostly print.”
Read books.
We need to eat to live. But Pollan doesn’t just say Eat. He says Eat food. The difference to him is between “whole fresh foods” and “processed food products,” the latter being “edible food-like substances” from the supermarket that will fill your stomach but won’t make you healthy. Likewise, to be head-healthy we need to read, but not only that: we need to read books. We can read listicles and news items and celebrity profiles (and boy do we), but that alone is not healthy. I love to consume high-quality television and cinema and podcasts, but they are not enough either. They are, to extend the metaphor, the fruit and juice and pastries that make the meal tasty, but they are not going to keep you full. They are the parts of a complete breakfast, a meal that hinges on the oatmeal or the eggs on whole wheat bread.
This didn’t used to be a problem. Before the Internet, television, film, radio, or recorded music, people had few of the intellectually stimulating activities we take for granted today. The theater was an option, depending on your wealth or circumstance, but other than that and perhaps a roving minstrel band, books were it. We have so many options now, so books are increasingly being relegated to the back of the queue. It must not be so.
I’ve come to view books as arboretums. They are worlds within in the larger world, ecosystems shielded from the chaotic flea-market world of the Internet yet also in debate with it. Every page is a tree, its paragraphs and sentences the branches and vines that stack and intertwine to compose its part of the story. Our senses engage with the created world before us: the smell of the paper like the smell of the buds; the songs of the birds and the dialogue we narrate in our head; the characters we imagine in our head like the colorful trees that align and clash and have backstories of their own. With arboretums as with books, each of us see the same thing yet something altogether different.
We all need to get outside and deeply breathe in the fresh air. Literally, we can do this by escaping to arboretums, but literarily we do it with books.
Often.
I remember the beginning distinctly. I had graduated from college but was still working in my school’s admission office over the summer before I departed for Colombia, where I lived that fall. The week after commencement, with no more classes or papers or textbooks consuming my time, I picked up a book I wanted to read and read it for fun. It was The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz. I liked it, didn’t love it, but that wasn’t the point. The point was dominion over what I read no longer rested with my professors. I was free, in the windows-down Tom Petty sort of way, and it felt great.
Four years later, I’ve had what amounts to another college education’s worth of free reading in topics that fit my fancy. Except during the two-year detour to grad school when my reading once again became more regimented, I have read what I have wanted to read and I have read a lot. On the train, on the bus, during my lunch break, in bed before sleep: I almost always have a book with me that I can whip out when the moment is right.
This is incredibly invigorating for me. There are so many books out there I want to read, to input into my byzantine repository of a brain. Sometimes the sheer infinities of books I could and want to read overwhelm me. (Bunny trail: while working at the library one night I’d just finished a book and tried to decide what to read next. Novel or biography? Classic or contemporary? Baldwin’s Go Tell It on the Mountain or Wilson’s Angel in the Architecture or Horwitz’s Confederates in the Attic? Ahhh! … I debated for way too long about it and then fifteen minutes before closing, my eye found Mark Harris’ new Five Came Back and I knew immediately I wanted that one. The heart wants what it wants.)
I learned a lot from the books I read in high school and college, but I have gained just as much from what I have read on my own—especially so from the books I grabbed almost impulsively, because I just wanted to read it. No other reason. I know I will never be able to read all the books I want to read, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.
Mostly print.
Bibliophiles will often speak of the allure of the book itself: the smell of the freshly opened pages, the comforting and colorful order of the library stacks, the textile pleasures of a book in hand. I find joy in those things too. But they alone are not why I read printed books, mostly from the library, almost exclusively. I do so because reading should be hard.
As our smartphones get smarter and more intuitive, as our online reading gets lighter and more listicled, we need something that will challenge us. By reading printed books and reading them deeply, we challenge our brains to resist the Twitter-fueled “fear of missing out,” our nagging impulse to check our phones, our tendency to skim online articles before quickly clicking a link to the next one, and our penchant for immediate gratification.
By reading print books, we can enjoy a better reading experience while also confronting the oppressive ubiquity of screens. This secondary effect should not be overlooked. I could quite easily, and quite accidentally, go nary a minute during an average day without fixing my eyes upon the radiant glow of a computer or phone or TV screen. Indeed I have lived that day many more times than I would have liked—such is the reach of the invisible android hand upon the market of our attention. But at the end of such a digitized day, my eyes wearied by the spastic technicolor of the internet, I have often taken solace in the decidedly unilluminated grayscale of the printed page, where the words stay in one place, darn it, and don’t link anywhere else except in my imagination.
This is not to proclaim the objective superiority of paper as a reading format (even though I prefer it), nor to condemn e-books (whose accessibility and convenience are in fact a great catalysts for increased reading). I simply mean to say that with a deficit of attention and a surplus of distractions, we benefit greatly from the challenge and joy of locking ourselves inside the safe and friendly confines of a printed book. Ultimately, reading is better than not reading. Read whatever and however you’d like and you’ll be better for it. But my recipe has nourished me well, and as is true with any good meal I want to share it with others.
191 Modern Western philosophy of the United States and Canada
192 Modern Western philosophy of the British Isles
193 Modern Western philosophy of Germany and Austria
194 Modern Western philosophy of France
195 Modern Western philosophy of Italy
196 Modern Western philosophy of Spain and Portugal
197 Modern Western philosophy of the former Soviet Union
198 Modern Western philosophy of Scandinavia
199 Modern Western philosophy in other geographic areas
As we round the final bend of the 100s Tributary (of the Dewey River in the United States of Libraries), let’s take a moment to enjoy the scenery of this particular ecosystem of knowledge we’ve paddled through in the last ten posts. We’ve had our minds blown by huge universal ideas and by the paradox of formerly infinity; we’ve given a new (and probably better) definition of physiognomy and sat on Freud’s couch; and above all we’ve learned that there is so much to learn.
When we’re dealing with trying to capture and organize the sum of human knowledge, I’d say that’s a logical and humbling lesson to let sink in as we venture further into the Deweybyss. Or, to put it as one of the Dew3 picks does, let us move forward with fear and trembling as we get ready to tackle one of the two topics traditionally off-limits at Thanksgiving dinner: religion (the other being politics – we’re coming for you, 320s).
For now, though, let us enjoy the relative tranquility provided by the civil and introspective discussions of the 190s.
The Dew3:
The Book of Dead Philosophers
By Simon Critchley
Dewey: 190
Random Sentence: “He was, in G.K. Chesterton’s words, ‘a huge bull of a man, fat and slow and quiet.’”
Fear and Trembling: And, the Sickness Unto Death
By Soren Kierkegaard
Dewey: 198.9
Random Sentence: “Is this utterance publici juris, or is it a privatissimum?”
Talking With Sartre: Conversations and Debates
By John Gerassi
Dewey: 194
Random Sentence: “Ah, concrete situations!”
Comello: First off, how has the response been to the book? Any surprising reactions from critics or regular readers?
Graedon: I think that the biggest surprise has been the seeming divisiveness of the language in my book. On the one hand, some readers have felt shut out when they’ve encountered words that they don’t know or can’t understand. That blindsided me more than it should have. When I remember back to the first time that I tried to read Nabokov, for instance, I’m sure that one of my impulses was to throw the book across the room—there were at least half a dozen unfamiliar words per page on average, and it made me crazy. (I’m of course not comparing my work with his in any way, except to say that I should have been more empathetic to the experience of reader estrangement.)
But for me, anyway, something shifted. I stopped being frustrated, and started wanting to look up those words, to know and own them, in a deep sense. And when I went back to Nabokov as an adult, the experience was very different, for all sorts of reasons. For one thing, I’ve come to a place where I don’t mind if what I’m reading asks something of me, whether it’s to look up a word that I don’t know, or to be comfortable with ambiguity, or to imagine something I don’t want to imagine. I find reading to be a more transformational experience if I’m involved in it, actively participating and thinking and engaging.
I guess for that reason, I also don’t mind asking something of readers. And it’s been very gratifying that there have been readers, on the other hand, who’ve responded to the book maybe especially because of the language. Not just the unusualness of some of it, but also because of what it’s doing. Because of course one of the messages that I was hoping to convey is that language is so central to our humanity, and that to lose it or not be able to understand it can in fact be very alienating. That before we relinquish control over things that are so fundamental to who we are—yielding all sorts of functionalities to devices and machines—we should give a lot of thought to what it might mean for us to give them up.
I think that a lot of readers have responded to that message, buried in the book’s language, and I have found that to be unbelievably thrilling, and very humbling.
That’s interesting because the challenge of the words themselves was something I discussed in my first reaction to The Word Exchange, how for me the joy of reading and learning is discovering new things that stretch my understanding. I appreciate when writers (or filmmakers or musicians) don’t make things easy. I think we all need and enjoy escapist entertainment from time to time, but not at the expense of richer and deeper engagement with ideas in every artistic form.
I wonder if you’ve read anything by Nicholas Carr, who writes mostly about technology, culture, and the implications of a digital world. Recently on his blog he’s been focusing on automation and the almost sinister implications it has for human intelligence and creativity. (His next book, in fact, is called The Glass Cage: Automation and Us.) Carr recently posted about a promotional email he got from Apple with the headline “Create a work of art, without the work.” In your book that seems to encapsulate the underlying mission of Synchronic, whose (very)smartphone-like devices have taken over wide control of their users’ lives, including how they look up words they don’t know.
This quote from the book stood out to me: “It’s comforting to believe that consigning small decisions to a device frees up our brains for more important things. But that begs the question, which things have been deemed more important? And what does our purportedly decluttered mind now allow us to do? Express ourselves? Concentrate? Think? Or have we simply carved out more time for entertainment? Anxiety? Dread?”
So how do you, as someone who wants to actively engage with things, manage what you automate in your own life and what you let into your brain? Are there certain things you still rigidly refuse to let a computer or other technology do?
I remember your response well! I think you were the first person to point out that reading The Word Exchange in some ways duplicates the experience of being one of the characters in the book (at least if you’re downloading the definitions of unknown words as you go). In other words, that form and content have the possibility of meeting, in a certain sense.
And while I’m quite intrigued by Nicholas Carr’s work—as I mentioned in my essay-length acknowledgments at the back of the book, several of his premises from The Shallows have made their way into The Word Exchange, largely via Doug—I wasn’t aware of his blog or his newest book, and I’m utterly grateful to you for pointing me in their direction.
I do find automation to be a slightly insidious force. While it’s easy to rationalize—I might tell myself, for instance, that only “mindless” tasks can be automated, nothing truly “authentic”—I also find that the more things I consign to my various omnipresent devices, the more alienated I wind up feeling. I want to remember important dates on my own, not find myself so cut off from the passing of time that I need a machine to remind me of them. I want to be able to navigate my own way through unknown cities, not depend on Siri to pleasantly read the directions to various destinations to me. And while it’s utterly convenient to have all my bills paid automatically, I’m almost a little nostalgic for a time when paying for things required some degree of conscious engagement.
That said, I’m as big an automation culprit as anyone at this point. I relinquished the keys to my bank account more than a year ago, finally setting up automatic bill payment, and breathing a deep sigh of relief over the minutes and maybe hours of my life saved from mindless check-writing. I have a terrible sense of direction, so I depend on Siri and Google to get me just about everywhere. I program dozens of reminders for myself into my iPhone.
But there are a lot of things that I still do analog. Write to-do lists. Keep a calendar. Edit drafts of things that I’m writing. I still mail lots of longhand letters, too. The truth is, I just think better on paper. And when I don’t automate, I also feel more aware of what’s happening in my life—of the passing of time—too. That’s something that I want to be aware of.
I think that electronic devices have introduced the idea of a false infinity and limitlessness into our lives: the cloud that exists everywhere and nowhere; the digital reader that’s a slightly warped manifestation of a Borgesian infinite library; and with automation (and the relentless schedules many of us now face), the idea of an endless day, which of course is a total fallacy, and one that can often make us feel not only depleted but depraved, pitching ever more quickly toward the grave without much awareness of its quickened arrival.
The phrase “wood and glue” pops up periodically in the book as an incantation for times of adversity. Was there a time in the six years of writing the book when you felt things were falling apart and had to MacGyver the story back into order?
The phrase “wood and glue” actually didn’t come in until near the end—final edits. But absolutely, there was much MacGyvering along the way. I did my very best to try to keep the writing process from taking as long as it eventually took. Before I began, I plotted heavily, did elaborate Excel spreadsheets, and tried to nail down the structure very carefully. And I only gave myself about 6 or 7 months to write the first draft, keeping to a strict schedule, finishing chapters every other week or so.
What that meant, of course, was that my first draft was absolutely terrible. I didn’t realize just how terrible it was right away. I gave it to a couple of trusted writer friends, and they were incredibly kind and gentle in their critiques. But in what they did and didn’t say, I realized that the book was a mess.
I took maybe six months off from working on it (that wasn’t hard, or even entirely intentional—I’d just started a new job), and then, when I looked at it again, I was a little shocked at its badness. I found myself gutting whole sections. Rewriting entire chapters. Tearing the spreadsheet into tiny pieces. The second draft of the book barely resembled the first. Although there were also things that I was afraid to let go, for better or worse: the beginning, some aspects of the structure (the 26 chapters, the alternating points of view, etc). I was afraid that if I tore up all the stakes, the entire thing would just float away.
I got more feedback from different friends on that draft, and then I did one more big draft before sending it out to any agents to consider. Needless to say, I did more revising after signing with one of them, and yet far more after starting to work with an editor.
It’s funny. After laboring over the book (in obscurity) for years, really taking my time to get things the way I wanted them to be, having realized with the first draft that breakneck speed didn’t work well for me, I did the most frenetic revising in the final months, under tremendous pressure, changing the book drastically at the eleventh hour. One of the tiniest changes to come out of that period was the inclusion of the phrase “wood and glue.” It never occurred to me before you asked just now, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this splint metaphor came in during those whirlwind months of mercenary final rewriting. I sort of felt like I could have used a whole-body (and whole-psyche) splint at the time.
As Anana’s journey to find Doug becomes more perilous and labyrinthine, the importance of “safe places” becomes more evident, whether it’s the library or within the secretive confines of the Diachronic Society. Where do you feel most safe and at peace? And is that the same place where your best ideas and writing come?
There are certainly places where I feel more calm and at peace. One of them, in fact, is the Mercantile Library on East 47th Street, where the members of the Diachronic Society meet. Like Anana, I spent a couple of years living in Hell’s Kitchen, one of the most frenetic neighborhoods in this frenetic city. I was so grateful to be introduced to the Mercantile Library during that time by someone who knows and understands me well. We’d often walk there together on weekends, braving the diamond district and Fifth Avenue, sometimes weaving our way through the craziness of Times Square. And stepping through the doors into the quiet, cool, calm of the library really felt like entering a holy place, whose sacred practices were reading, writing, and thinking. (It also felt a little like leaving the riotous bazaar of the internet to enter the relative stillness of a book.) I did a lot of the early research and thinking about The Word Exchange at the Merc.
I also draw a lot of solace from an acknowledged holy place, the Brooklyn Friends Meeting. To the degree that I had any sort of religious upbringing, my background is Quaker, which perhaps explains the complex treatment of silence in the book, as something that can either telegraph death or save you. (I think that as a kid attending Quaker meeting with my parents, I sometimes wondered if an hour of silence could actually bore me to death. As an adult, I feel very differently about that same quiet hour.)
And I’m unbelievably fortunate, too, to live in an apartment that I love, with incredible landlords who are also my downstairs neighbors, and where I get most of my thinking and writing done.
But the truth, New Age-y as it sounds, is that I actually don’t think of safe places as physical places, for the most part, but as habits of mind. As I mentioned earlier, I wrote and revised the book in lots of different places. The first draft largely in Asheville, NC, the second in Brooklyn, and the third sort of everywhere. During 2012, the longest period of time that I spent in any given place was four weeks, and I was often in places for much briefer periods than that—just a few days, sometimes. I was in Vermont, Mexico, Wyoming, New Hampshire, Virginia, North Carolina, Cape Cod, and then back to New Hampshire, with interstitial periods sleeping on couches in Brooklyn, before finally moving back to Brooklyn in the fall, where I stayed in a series of different apartments before finally finding the one that I live in now, which I moved into in early 2013.
The reason that I was able to work so steadily and with such focus during that peripatetic year wasn’t because of the places (though many of them were lovely), but because I was carrying the focus and the peace with me. There have been other times when I’ve had everything that I need, including quiet, calm places in which to work, but feel unable to get anything done, because I don’t feel quiet in my own mind.
I think, though, that part of this sense of mobile safety derives for me from the fact that I’m a runner, like lots of other writers. I’m not particularly fast, but like Murakami, I love to run long distances. Not as long as the distances that he routinely runs. But I am happy running 18, 19, 20, even 30 miles, which I’ll often do even when I’m not training for something. I like running in large part not because it helps me actively think about what I’m writing, but because it helps me not to think, or to think in a way that is very indirect and subconscious. When you run for several hours in a row, your muscles and other systems need so much energy that less of it is going to your brain than normal, which makes long-distance running a lot like moving meditation. When I’m running is when I feel most at peace. It also helps me feel safe. I go running in virtually every new place that I visit, and it’s a pretty remarkable way to get to know and feel comfortable in a new environment.
Silence is just as needed in literature as in real life, so I appreciate your approach to it. And the Quaker influence on the book, subconscious or otherwise, is very interesting: I wonder how many of us, or those in the world of The Word Exchange, could withstand an hour of silent contemplation before the “check your phone!” alert chimes in our heads. Practicing presence—that is, choosing to simply live in the present moment instead of trying to document it or escape it—is challenge I’ve set for myself that I strive daily to meet more often than not. It’s not, as you say, some New Age-y self-help mantra, but a simple and practical challenge that can transform our everyday if we let it.
Your love of long distance running is something I’ve yet to enjoy myself, but I find it interesting in respect to Anana’s journey throughout the book. On her quest for truth she seems to always be on the move, with periods of solitude and contemplation between legs of the journey. At this point in your own journey, what are you running toward? Are you on the way from A to B, or are you focusing more on what’s in between?
What an incredible question. And I think that you’ve pointed something out to me about my book that I’d never really noticed before. There’s definitely a lot of me in that process you describe, of running, running, running, interspersed with periods of quiet contemplation. I’ve been told I’m a bit of a paradox, and certainly in that way.
I don’t know that I’m running toward or away from anything at this point. I think that I felt a lot of urgency to finish this first novel for a lot of reasons. Most of them practical: for one, reality kept catching up with all of the “futuristic” elements. I had a feeling that if I didn’t hurry up, everyone would start walking around with word flu, and then I’d have to try to recast the thing as nonfiction.
There were also material concerns. Unlike Anana, I don’t have any wealthy relatives, and when I left my lucrative nonprofit job (ha) to try to finish the book with residencies at a few artist colonies, I took a really big risk. I got to the point where I had to either finish the book very quickly, praying that someone might want to publish it, or else it would have taken quite a few more years, because I was almost completely out of money, and I would have needed to find a new job, new apartment, start over, as I’ve done a few times, and I know how very difficult it is to get any writing done during start-over times.
I also really hoped that I might be able to make a go of a writing life, whatever that means, and I couldn’t really imagine abandoning this book after so much time and sweat and life, but I also knew that in order to move forward and do anything else, I needed to get a book out into the world. So by the end of the process, my life had narrowed down to this really fine point: this book, and more or less only this book.
If anything, that’s the way in which I want my life to change now. I don’t think of being at A or B, and I don’t feel like I’m running anymore, but my hope is that writing never really forces (or enables) the same kind of solipsistic existence that I inhabited for a couple of years. I’m ready for my life to be much less about me and my work. I’ve been striving toward more of a balance lately, but I have a ways to go still.
I hope that risk has paid off for you. If anything, I think the book has added to the conversation about how we live with technology, and will give readers (especially those with a penchant for the dystopian) a glimpse at the implications of an unexamined life. Thanks so much for taking the time to talk with me.
Thank you so much, Chad! It’s been a real pleasure exchanging words with you.
I admit that I haven’t been exposed much to ancient philosophy, outside of that college philosophy class I’ve mentioned. I remember being especially taken by Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics and its take on friendship. I love learning about different taxonomies and ways of looking at things we take for granted or don’t really think about that much. Like, what does love actually mean? What does it mean to genuinely love someone? When you start asking fundamental questions about the big yet basic elements of life, you begin quite the journey that will end either with your total enlightenment or a complete mental breakdown. Here’s hoping it’s the former.
The Dew3:
How Plato and Pythagoras Can Save Your Life: The Ancient Greek Prescription for Health and Happiness
By Nicholas Kardaras
Dewey: 180
Random Sentence: “But these sorts of abilities are possible–for those very special white crows.”
Socrates Cafe: A Fresh Taste of Philosophy
By Christopher Phillips
Dewey: 183.2
Random Sentence: “‘A hundred just sounds right,’ she says, affecting a seraphic grin.”
Mindful Yoga, Mindful Life: A Guide for Everyday Practice
By Charlotte Bell
Dewey: 181.45
Random Sentence: “I didn’t think about the orange-clad long-distance walker again until six years later.”
Time to get ethical, everyone. In our continuing journey through the 100s, I’ve noticed that the focus thus far has been on how and what to think vis a vis psychology, logic, and philosophical schools of thought. Now, with ethics, we’ve dipped our toes into action, or more specifically how what we think should influence what we do. Almost every profession or discipline has a branch of professional ethics that tackle the what-ifs and sticky situations of the vocation.
For libraries, these often involve heady topics like intellectual freedom, the right to privacy, and the dos and don’ts of access and collection development. A popular manifestation of this is ALA’s Banned Books Week, wherein libraries feature frequently challenged books and debate how best to protect the freedom to read when it’s under attack. (Speaking of under, the most frequently challenged book of 2013? Captain Underpants. Yep.)
So while your local librarians fight to keep a children’s book series about a scantily clad superhero on the shelves, consider the occupational and ethical absurdities you have to deal with in your own profession. Any wild examples?
The Dew3:
True Enough: Learning to Live in a Post-fact Society By Farhad Manjoo Dewey: 177.3 Random Sentence: “Presidents, for one, don’t matter much, they found.”
How We Behave at the Feast: Reflections on Living in An Age of Plenty By Dwight Currie Dewey: 170.44 Random Sentence: “When all else fails, you’ve always got mail.”
How to Be A Hepburn in A Hilton World: The Art of Living With Style, Class, and Grace By Jordan Christy Dewey: 170.842 Random Sentence: “The same goes for Lifehouse’s hunky front man, Jason Wade.”
Though I am very much not a math or science person, I think Spock is onto something here regarding the stimulating nature of logic. Like a beautifully composed painting or cohesive album, as a simple composition an airtight, symmetrical equation or argument is a wonder to behold. All those Xs and Ys and numbers coming together to make something grand. It’s wonderful, I say. (I realize logic is more than math equations and scientific hypotheses—deal with it.)
Like the 140s, this section in my library had slim pickin’s, at least compared to the 150s. Perhaps that’s a metaphor for our times. I can only hope that the popularity of the Star Trek reboots will bring logic back in vogue, because there’s nothing people like more than a know-it-all coolly calling out everyone’s BS.
The Dew3:
Arguing for Our Lives: A User’s Guide to Constructive Dialog
By Robert Jensen
Dewey: 160
Random Sentence: “That arrogance is what has transformed Earth into Eaarth.”
Being Logical: A Guide to Good Thinking
By Dennis Q. McInerny
Dewey: 160
Random Sentence: “Every dog has three heads.”
Crimes Against Logic: Exposing the Bogus Arguments of Politicians, Priests, Journalists, and Other Serial Offenders
By Jamie Whyte
Dewey: 160
Random Sentence: “It is a rare foray into gobbledygook that does not begin with a tribute to quantum physics.”
What’s that saying? Psychology is the study of a tree whereas sociology is the study of the forest? Well, consider it Arbor Day on Teach Me How To Dewey. My library had a robust 150s selection compared to the 140s, which perhaps isn’t surprising given the broad nature and scope of psychology. The human brain is a deep well of possibility, capable of so much (language, intelligent design) and yet so little (YouTube comment sections). Of course Freud and Jung and Co. pop up here, but also pop psychology and books than aren’t quite as obsessed with sex as Sigmund.
It’s interesting to see how formerly used Dewey sections, like 157 and 159, have or have not been integrated within modern arrangements. Emotions has moved from 157 to 152, yet Will has disappeared, at least from the 150s. Perhaps a more robust study of Dewey would reveal these nuances?
TheDew3:
The Road Less Traveled: A New Psychology of Love, Traditional Values and Spiritual Growth
By M. Scott Peck
Dewey: 158.1
Random Sentence: “Life is difficult.”
Savage Girls and Wild Boys: A History of Feral Children
By Michael Newton
Dewey: 155.4567
Random Sentence: “They ran on all fours, bowed head-down in the dust.”
The Plenitude: Creativity, Innovation, and Making Stuff
By Rich Gold
Dewey: 153.35
Random Sentence: “And before Barney it was a well-known Kahuna that only boys like dinosaurs.”
Of all the subtopics in 140-149, pantheism has the coolest name by far. Its definition and substance are certainly debatable, but having nearly all of the word panther in it makes it the coolest and sexiest of all -isms. (Admittedly not a high bar to hit.)
For probably the first time in Dewey thus far, the number of words in this 10-spot that end in “-ism” far outnumber those that don’t. Translation: It’s about to get ideological up in her’. This is not to say that ideology is bad; it’s simply incomplete most of the time, or limited in its understanding of the world. Believing in only one -ism is impossible, but once you start collecting them your box of -isms becomes a cluttered hoard of old toys that don’t always play well with each other.
So be smart with your -isms, everyone!
The Dew3:
Dancing in the Dark: Romance, Yearning, and the Search for the Sublime
By Barbara Lazear Ascher
Dewey: 141.6
Random Sentence: “‘She’s not in my way, Terrence,’ says Banana Moon Cake Man.’ ”
Hope in the Age of Anxiety
By Anthony Scioli
Dewey: 149.5
Random Sentence: “Hope lets you breathe a little easier.”
The Essential Transcendentalists
Edited by Richard Geldard
Dewey: 141.3
Random Sentence: “No sun illumines me, for I dissolve all lesser lights in my own intenser and steadier light.”
133 Specific topics in parapsychology and occultism
134 No longer used—formerly Mesmerism and Clairvoyance
135 Dreams and mysteries
136 No longer used—formerly Mental characteristics
137 Divinatory graphology
138 Physiognomy
139 Phrenology
So many strange words in this section–where to start? I have no idea what Physiognomy (138) means and I’m not even going to look it up. I’m going to pretend that it is the study of a human’s physiological reaction to gnomes. Academic librarians, could you point me to some good physiognomy journals? Publications lacking pictures of gnomes will not be considered. We also have Phrenology, which I’m assuming is the study of The Roots. (Contrary evidence of this assertion also will not be considered.)
Meanwhile, we’ve got a fascinating collection of topics in this ten-spot, including Mental derangements, Mesmerism, and Divinatory graphology, which is the practice of seeking knowledge of the future (divinatory) through handwriting analysis (graphology). Ummmm… OK. I should come out as a skeptic of this kind of stuff: not of the paranormal per se, because I do believe in the spiritual, but of the general wisdom of messing around with all the “dark matter” out there. I’m happy to debate and learn more about it, but don’t invite me to your seance because I’m too busy Deweying.
On second thought, summoning the spirit of Melvil Dewey for a Q&A on this blog would be quite the scoop.
The Dew3:
Cosmic Karma: Understanding Your Contract With the Universe
By Marguerite Manning
Dewey: 133.5
Random Sentence: “In this Pluto house, intellectual freedom is power.”
So You Want To Be Psychic?
By Billy Roberts
Dewey: 133.8
Random Sentence: “Allow the space surrounding you to become slowly flooded with vibrant light, coloured with pink.”
You Can Read A Face Like A Book: How Reading Faces Helps You Succeed in Business and Relationships
By Naomi Tickle
Dewey: 138
Random Sentence: “Individuals with large ear lobes are naturally inclined to support others in their personal growth.”
Can we discuss 125 for a second? “Formerly Infinity”? That 1) should be a high school garage band or Tumblr immediately, and 2) is, when you think about it for a second, an insane mind-melt. Something used to be infinite but now is not?
I was also intrigued by teleology, which is the study of evidences of design in nature. In fact, all of these topics are terrifically vast fields of knowledge through which we can frolic and smell the books. (Though if you start poking around the subconscious, get ready to find some crazy stuff.) If you’re looking for some light beach reading, now you know where to start.
The Dew3:
Life is a Miracle: An Essay on Modern Superstition
By Wendell Berry
Dewey: 121
Random Sentence: “If local adaptation is important, as I believe it unquestionably is, then we must undertake, in both science and art, the effort of familiarity.”
Love: Plato, the Bible, and Freud
By Douglas Morgan
Dewey: 128
Random Sentence: “Love is, among many other things, a fact.”
The Philosopher and the Wolf: Lessons From the Wild on Love, Death, and Happiness
By Mark Rowlands
Dewey: 128
Random Sentence: “The truth is, I suppose, that I’ve always been a natural misanthrope.”
I was heartened by the exceedingly successful Kickstarter campaign to resurrect Reading Rainbow, which will help bring a new version of the early-literacy television program back to solvency and into classrooms to foster a love of reading in today’s children.
But this article from Caitlin Dewey at the Washington Post gave me pause:
“Crowdfunding is theoretically supposed to bolster charities, start-ups, independent artists, small-business owners and other projects that actually need the financial support of the masses to succeed. It’s not supposed to be co-opted by companies with profit motives and private investors of their own … which, despite Burton’s charisma, is exactly what the Rainbow reboot is.
But if you’re donating to Reading Rainbow because of the grandiose charity rhetoric Burton’s employing on Kickstarter, you might want to look elsewhere — maybe the nonprofit Children’s Literacy Initiative or the Washington, D.C.-based First Book, both of which get high grades from Charity Navigator. They might not have LeVar [Burton]’s nostalgia appeal, but there’s no doubt who those charities serve.”
Rainbow was cancelled in 2009 and had been existing as an app since then, so though its name already has a pedigree I think it still deserved a chance to ask its fans for money like any other cause, charitable or otherwise.
In this light, let’s also consider the impending arrival of Girl Meets World, the sort-of sequel to that ’90s TGIF mainstay (and personal TV favorite) Boy Meets World. The title character is the daughter of Cory and Topanga, adorkable teen sweethearts and stars of BMW. When word of the show’s development hit the internet in late 2012, I’ll admit I got excited. Boy Meets World was a seminal show in my adolescence. I saw in Cory and Topanga’s relationship a healthy model for friendship and romance: Cory was silly and Topanga was rational, but both were strong, self-sufficient people who loved the other despite their foibles and occasional conflicts. And the people around them were just as well-rounded: Shawn broody yet loyal, Feeny upright yet playful, Eric clownish yet sincere.
Like Reading Rainbow, the BMW brand—much-loved yet dated—has received new life thanks to the groundswell support of its fans. Though this new show will be its own story with a new protagonist and surrounding cast, but with Cory and Topanga back in the mix, and the original BMW producer at the helm, it might as well be considered a continuation of the story. But for whom?
It’s common, I know, for entertainment meant for kids to have something their parents can enjoy too. Whether it’s Sesame Street or the latest Pixar movie, the best filmmakers and producers find a way to appeal to many age groups. And perhaps that is why Girl Meets World is being made: to give Millennials with young kids something they already have an attachment to that they will (theoretically) be able to enjoy watching with their kids. But the Disney Channel audience of Girl Meets World either hasn’t seen the original series or hasn’t even heard of it. They will have as much emotional investment in the characters as they would for any new show they encounter. So why do we need Girl Meets World?
It’s not as if kids today lack any source of entertainment whatsoever; what BMW was to me and my Millennial ilk, they have today (I’m guessing here) in the variety of television shows, movies, apps, and YA novels being made specifically for them right now. Don’t they deserve to have their own Boy Meets World, a show or thing they discovered in their youth and will feel special kinship toward into adulthood? Boy Meets World was my generation’s thing; shouldn’t they have their own that didn’t descend from their parents’ cultural experience and sensibility?
Perhaps I’m just being possessive. Who am I to cling to a TV show that many, many others cherish as much as I do. I suppose this gets at another question relating to pop culture and our interaction with it: Do we own the culture we embrace or are we mere stewards of it? In our produce/reuse/recycle media culture, do we lose the right to claim something as our own? I don’t think so. Once a work of art is created and sent out into the world, it is the artist’s no longer. It becomes a public entity of which we can all buy shares and claim partial if ardent ownership, but we can never own it outright. My Green Bay Packers stock is tangible evidence of my intangible ownership and love of the team, but it’s not real stock. There will always be more Packers fans, and Boy Meets World fans, and Reading Rainbow students, no matter the form those things take.
So here’s to hoping that everybody wins: that Girl Meets World and the new iteration of Reading Rainbow will enchant young viewers and delight older ones, and that we’ll finally find out what happened to Mr. Turner.
Time to get college-dorm-at-2am up in here. I mean, just look at the subtopics in this 10-spot: change, space, time (though unfortunately nothing on the space-time continuum), energy… Each of these concepts are their own unfathomable galaxies within the blown-mind universe. Sometimes it seems these kinds of heady topics can only be discussed after a few pints at the pub. Does anyone outside of academia actually sit down and read books about this stuff? For a non-STEM person like me, books like The Infinite Book below are great because they are meant to make the dense quandaries of high-level science more accessible for English majors like me. But perhaps I need to challenge myself.
Or I’ll just read another novel.
The Dew3:
The Phenomenon of Man
By Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
Dewey: 113
Random Sentence: “The paradox of man resolves itself by passing beyond measure.”
The Infinite Book: A Short Guide to the Boundless, Timeless and Endless
By John D. Barrow
Dewey: 111.6
Random Sentence: “Pythagoras believed infinity was the destroyer in the Universe, the malevolent annihilator of worlds.”
Grammars of Creation
By George Steiner
Dewey: 116
Random Sentence: “It can be cancelled and reduced to trackless silence.”
107 Education, research, and related topics of philosophy
108 Kinds of persons in philosophy
109 Historical treatment of philosophy
Ahhhhhh… Sam Cooke. Melodically justifying ignorance since 1960. But those of us who don’t know much about philosophy are in luck: Dewey’s got us covered. Having conquered the first 100 Dewey points, we now enter the mind-melting glass case of cognition dedicated to Philosophy and Psychology. This first 10-spot focuses on philosophy, its theories and important historical figures. If you’re like me, you’re now having flashbacks to that Philosophy 101 course you took freshman year that was very stimulating but also made your brain hurt after every session and where you learned how to extend two pages’ worth of substantive arguments into 10 pages of grade-A high-falutin’ BS. (Or was that just me?)
Anyway, I really am fascinated by philosophy, even if I’m not cut out to study it hardcore. (I’m also noticing that it’s a super annoying word to type, at least for hunt-and-pecker like me. For the last time, hands, it’s not philospohy!) A lot of the books in my library were dedicated to making philosophy accessible to laypeople, which is good because it’s often not. Still, it is everywhere, even when it’s not evident. Just ask the Philosoraptor.
The Dew3:
Plato and A Platypus Walk Into A Bar: Understanding Philosophy Through Jokes
By Thomas Cathcart
Dewey: 102 CAT
Random Sentence: “Curiously, Camus looked a lot like Humphrey Bogart.”
The Simpsons and Philosophy: The D’oh! of Homer
Edited by William Irwin et al.
Dewey: 100 SIM
Random Sentence: “Can Nietzche’s rejection of traditional morality justify Bart’s bad behavior?”
Astonish Yourself! 101 Experiments in the Philosophy of Everyday Life
By Roger Pol-Droit
Dewey: 100 DRO
Random Sentence: “Do not step out of that shower jet’s narrow circle.”
We made it to the end of our first 100 of Dewey! #WeDeweyedIt! And if it wasn’t totally evident by now that the Dewey Decimal Classification is about books, allow it to remind you one more time with this 10-spot dedicated to the things of books themselves: manuscripts, incunabula, and the kind of rare books only super-booksellers dare deal with. My closest encounter with this material happened in a Preservation & Conservation class in library school, wherein we learned about the history of paper, bookbinding, and conservation techniques, and also got to make a few books from scratch (one of which I won in a lottery at the end of the course – still a life highlight). To cap the course we had to write a research paper on any topic course-related; I chose to write a brief history of incunabula (early books) and titled the paper Dream of the 1490s: Gutenberg and the Birth of the Printed Book, a title fans of Portlandia and books will be able to appreciate.
With the exception of the lacuna of despair that was the 040s, this section (in my library at least) has had the slimmest of pickings. The highlight would probably be the legendary Book of Kells (about which a delightful movie was made). Anyone else find something cool in the 090s?
The Dew2:
The Book of Kells
By Bernard Meehan
Dewey: 096.1 MEE
Random Sentence: “According to Pliny, the chief characteristic of the panther was that its sweet breath attracted and stunned other animals.”
Literary Hoaxes: An Eye-Opening History of Famous Frauds
By Melissa Katsoulis
Dewey: 098.3 KAT
Random Sentence: “Abraham Lincoln is famous for many things, but being a great and passionate lover is not one of them.”
085 Collections in Italian, Romanian & related languages
086 Collections in Spanish & Portuguese
087 Collections in Slavic languages
088 Collections in Scandinavian languages
089 Collections in other languages
In case you don’t remember (or have tried to forget) (a) payphones, (b) the “comedian” Carrot Top, or (3) the AT&T “Collect” commercials featuring Carrot Top and payphones, let me enlighten you. (Warning: this video might give you unwanted flashbacks to Carrot Top and the early 2000s.) For some tragicomedic reason that’s the first thing I thought of when coming upon this section of Dewey, dedicated to “collections” in all their vague, aggregated glory. But true to their nature, this collection of collections brings together a diverse array of topics into one accessible place. Most of these books I’d still consider bathroom reading rather than weighty nightstand material, though I guess that will depend on how things are going in the bathroom.
The Dew3:
My Bad: The Apology Anthology Edited By Paul Slanksy Dewey: 081 MY Random Sentence: “I did take some lives and I’m very sorry for that.” -David Berkowitz
‘Found’: The Best Lost, Tossed, and Forgotten Items From Around the World By Davy Rothbart Dewey: 081 FOU Random Sentence: “DID YOU JUST SEE THE BACKSTREET BOYS?”
Best-Loved Chinese Proverbs By Theodora Lau Dewey: 089.951 LAU Random Sentence: “Don’t try to scoop the moon from the bottom of the sea.”
076 Newspapers in Iberian Peninsula & adjacent islands
077 Newspapers in eastern Europe; in Russia
078 Newspapers in Scandinavia
079 Newspapers in other geographic areas
Extra! Extra! Get your papes heeya, Jack Kelly. We continue along the general theme of writing, books, and cultural institutions with The Newspaper in all its storied, soon-to-be-antiquated glory. While I was disappointed not to find a comprehensive history of that classic 1992 Disney musical/bad-accent-party Newsies, I found a lot of books on journalism or by journalists, along with (diving back into meta-ness) a lot on writing and publishing and the challenges therein, which actually seem to be good resources for aspiring authors. Once again, the books in my library were limited almost exclusively to two digits (070 and 071); apparently Scandinavian newspapers don’t fit within the the collection purview of a Midwestern public library.
As a writer myself, I struggle with how much writing about writing I should read. On the one hand it’s helpful to learn how other seemingly successful writers struggle through the quotidian difficulties of the writing life. On the other hand, it’s easy to get bogged down in reading about writing and not actually get your own writing done. It’s the same thing with the modern trends of “lifehacking” and productivity: so many new apps and web tools make promises of increased productivity and streamlined life, but when I focus so much on the tools themselves I get fixated on the tool instead of the product it’s supposed to help create.
Or maybe I’m overthinking it.
The Dew3:
What Kind of Loser Indie Publishers? And How Can I Be One, Too? By Pamela Fagan Dewey: 070.593 HUT Random Sentence: “Did you just throw up a little in your mouth?”
Beg, Borrow, Steal: A Writer’s Life By Michael Greenberg Dewey: 070.92 GRE Random Sentence: “Purged of empathy, I joined in the protective cynicism of the courthouse employees.”
Red Blood & Black Ink: Journalism in the Old West By David Dary Dewey: 071 DAR Random Sentence: “That’s just the way with juries – they think it no more wrong to shoot an editor than a Jack-rabbit.”
At the shore on a Monday seagulls with orange beaks, fighting against the wind, whip up and down the line, a boustrophedon parade— the waves shoving their way to shore. Jimmy Eat World’s “Futures” beckons them to me, scoring the ever-forward push of all creation.
It is all connected. It is all connected now.
Whatever reigns over this moment, I am a witness.
Up in the distance a plane careens toward the horizon, itself pushing against the wind to find its place in the future. It cuts past the clouds like the waves that topple rocks flanking the coast.
Men and women who smoke cigarettes walk to the shore, their exhaust billowing and dissipating into the rushing wind; planes in the air, smoke in the air.
There will always be exhaust, until there will not be. Until then: the horizon, the remedy, the birds.
066 Organizations in Iberian Peninsula & adjacent islands
067 Organizations in eastern Europe; in Russia
068 Organizations in other geographic areas
069 Museum science
It’s becoming evident that the first 100 of Dewey is tailored for folks who already love the library and its humanities brethren. Like the “first fruits” of library science, the best stuff (at least according to people like me who geek out about books, libraries, museums, and other districts of Nerddom) comes first, before every other discipline, as an intellectual offering to St. Dewey.
Museums aren’t the only subject of the 060s, but they are the most interesting since books about Iberian organizations apparently don’t circ well. (There were a lot of books on the so-called Robert’s Rules, a reference authority for parliamentary and meeting procedures, but forgive me for not raving about the riveting world of legislative order.)
Does your library have any other interesting books in the 060s? I’ve already admitted by bias toward museums and the like, but is there anything here for non-history geeks? If not, take heart that once we get out of the 100s we won’t find hardcore history until Dewey’s end. Until then:
The Dew3:
The Stranger and the Statesman: James Smithson, John Quincy Adams, and the Making of America’s Greatest Museum, The Smithsonian
By Nina Burleigh
Dewey: 069.09753 BUR
Random Sentence: “Perhaps Adams’s preference for looking at the skies was motivated by his hopelessness at what he witnessed on the earth.”
Cabinets of Curiosities
By Peter Mauriès
Dewey: 069 MAU
Random Sentence: “From the monsters of folklore and mythology to the freaks of real life was no very long step.”
The Secret Museum
By Molly Oldfield
Dewey: 069.5 OLD
Random Sentence: “It might seem a bit of a weird thing for him to have done, that is, if you’ve read his novels but don’t know much about butterfly mating.”
