If I can motivate just a few people to track down the July 8 issue of The Atlantic and read The End of Reading Is Here, I'll consider today a success.
On my re-read of this astonishing feat of long form journalism, I was so overcome emotionally I knew what the subject of my next reflection would be. What essay - no matter its length - has ever had a similar effect on you, i.e., you felt a duty to spread the word, using whatever means was available to you?
My initial attempt spreading the word came about a week ago, not long after first reading the piece. I scoured my e-mail contact list, looking for anyone with whom I'd ever discussed a book - any book, anytime. I don't recall the last time I sent an e-mail to more than a few people at once, let alone one with a lengthy attachment. The responses I've received to that e-mail have been uniformly affirming. However, numerous attempts to attach this remarkable essay here have been a bust; such is my technological ineptitude. Consequently, you're on your own. I sincerely hope my entreaty works. Disturbing as it can sometimes be, I'm sure you'll find tracking down this extraordinary article worth the effort.
And Rose Horowitch is a name I've committed to memory. According to her essay she "...was born shortly after the dot-com bubble burst and entered first grade around the time the iPhone was released." I plan to read anything I can find written by this young woman almost half a century younger than me. Though it's improbable our paths will ever cross other than via the cherished written word, she is a soulmate. Kudos, Rose.
Ines
ReplyDeletePat, thank you for sharing this essay. It was very impactful for me and I shared with my reading friends and family. I plan on re-reading soon.
ReplyDeleteAnonymous; You're welcome; glad you found it impactful. I'm especially pleased you took the initiative to continue spreading the word. How can doing so be anything but positive?
DeleteThank you for sharing the Atlantic piece. It highlights a most troubling reality.
ReplyDeleteRegina; You're welcome. It is indeed troubling, although I try to not dwell on it. What good would that do?
DeletePat, I feel like I heard rumblings of this certain article someplace, but I didn't give much consideration to reading it until I saw this post. Before I read it, upon reading your and our peer's descriptions, I knew this would be cranial catnip for my mind, and cranial catnip it was...
ReplyDeleteFirst off, holy fuck! I immediately was awestruck by the way my Gen-Z contemporary Rose wrote. And I really, very much loved the analogy of the Library of Alexandria. It may have been destroyed in a great war, but really it was neglect. No one cared to rebuild or reliven it after previous destructions, and it went the way of the dinosaurs. But we have one advantage over the ancient Egyptians: the internet. With as vast a sea of choices to read, we'd use it to our advantage, right? I dunno. The veritable thinkers of times past held writing and reading in high esteem, but in an age where a physical library of Alexandria has transcended beyond an ordinary library branch, that inner library is in neglect, much like Alexandria was. If you don't exercise and retain your muscular triceps, then the strength you once had will atrophy, like how the literacy of the vast majority of my Gen-Z comrades has, six-seven and all. "Don't use it, you'll lose it."
But just remember, I am not the spokesperson for my generation. I'm no Flo from Progressive. Like you, I'm my own person, and I won't be pigeonholed or lumped in with the other kids. These problems, of a postliterate (borderline illiterate — not many people can pronounce things anymore) society, exist and will wax and wane, just as other problems do, just as the ocean's tide roars and recedes. We can dwell in our mental hell and anguish about what curse has befallen the kids of today; we can bemoan and cry over new technologies and ways like the Luddites we are. We can do that, but by doing that, angst will take over our brain and our library will be destroyed. In the chaos and upheaval and loss and gain, what we can do is worry, but as you said, what good would it do?
We have our own lives, our own interests. I'm perturbed by this reverse Flynn effect happening, but it's not my study; it's not about my life. The power we all have, within the mind, is to further build and renovate new wings and new sections of our inner Library of Alexandria. No, the humidity of brainrot and mice of influencers won't get past these impenetrable walls. Everything will be protected safe and sound, and grown.
Defy the naysayers by growing vertically, even as we grow old and gray, growing like a sunflower, we're still maturing in thought and aging like a fine wine. Ultimately, it's decent to be aware of these problems but we cannot do anything about the bigger picture except our own within. Worrying shrinks, but self-nourishment makes us think. We're like aloe vera, self-sufficient. Literally what Emerson wanted us to be. To enjoy and do as we want for our own mental growth. To bloom as gracefully as a "Rose." No one can ruin our rutebagas. No one can quash our squash. We must cultivate our garden. We must supply and feed our inner Library of Alexandria. Hope is not lost, the flame in the dark cave will never dim.
P.S. Also very impressed that Rose mentioned James Baldwin, as I just finished reading Go Tell It on the Mountain. Hopefully everyone has a John Grimes moment when they reflect on the importance of reading, and there will be an Elisha every step of the way.
P.P.S. I found it concerning that a kid, the "Ivy Leaguer," who goes to Harvard (I couldn't get in if I tried lmao) relied on ChatGPT for clarity on Burgess' A Clockwork Orange. I haven't read it yet, but the part I find most absurd is that he needed help with understanding English from 1962! Not 1606 in Shakespearean times; 1962!!! From what it sounds like, it feels like we're living in a time like The Machine Stops by E.M. Forster, a short story I want to read very soon for the first time. A story about relying and worshipping a machine that gives all humans their needs. Paul Simon prophesied it too — "And the people bowed and prayed, to the neon god they made." I'll stop yapping. This Atlantic article was enriching, and I'm soon gonna deal with the consequences of my intellectual Rose/Rosé hangover; it wouldn't be good to drive, and I know that the water I drink will tide me over.
ReplyDeleteDaniel; You are now the holder of two bell curve records. 1.) Longest comment I've received in fifteen + years of blogging (and that was before your P.P.S); 2.) Comment posted "latest" in day/earliest in following day (3:41 - 3:59 a.m.) Those dubious achievements aside, I sincerely enjoyed reading your comment, and especially appreciate you taking the time to seek out this important article by one of your peers. Your central metaphor (i.e., keeping our own internal Library of Alexandria/garden fresh and growing) is pertinent and moving. In addition, the many supporting metaphors you use, your nod to James Baldwin (a personal hero of mine), and your pushback against some of the minor pessimism in Rose's essay made this novella of yours worth reading. I hope some of the others who read my blog make it as far in the comments as yours, especially anyone who aspires to write. I suspect your facility with words will inspire such a reader. Keep writing, my young friend.
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