Does the internet take summer hours? I would argue it does. I’ve been sitting here for the better part of an hour trying to come up with something to write about. I blame the internet for this (What? You thought I’d take responsibility?). Anyway, I know people think these link posts are cop outs and, well, they’re kind of right. But at the same time, these are really worthy reads.
- On the subject of wasting time and the internet’s role in it, I’d been sort of vaguely aware of Benjamin Kunkel’s essay “Lingering,” which appears in the most recent issue of n1br, the n+1 Book Review. He makes a compelling argument that the internet is sucking the life out of the more serious pursuits, like reading poetry and history. Kunkel’s a great writer, but it seems to me that he’s being willfully ignorant about certain recent developments in how people use the internet and what kind of writing appears there. For a very smart, very well-written rebuttal to portions of this argument, do read Emily Gould’s response “Why I Write for Free.”
- One would imagine that Mr. Kunkel would find a fellow traveller in Ray Bradbury. In a New York Times piece about how Bradbury is trying to help out the strapped Ventura County Library, Bradbury reveals his feelings about the web: “They wanted to put a book of mine on Yahoo! You know what I told them? ‘To hell with you. To hell with you and to hell with the Internet.’”
- In less contentious news, New York Magazine is running a series on summer flings, and it includes a few Vroman’s favorites. Kate Christensen (who will be at Vroman’s a week from tonight!) writes about love at summer camp, while Julie Klam tells the story of the time she accompanied a sailor to Coney Island.
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
I will read both Kunkel’s and Gould’s articles, as I’ve been thinking and pondering my own use of time, including whether the internet helps, or stifles my own creativity.
I do know that a much younger friend told me that he has forsaken his usual morning web surfing before work, which was killing his writing time. By adopting a new routine of putting pen to paper, he has rediscovered the muse and isn’t missing the web as much as he thought he would–he’s also composed several longer pieces that he tells me will form the basis of a new book idea, something that had been stifling him up until his recent “breakthrough.”
Technology is the 2,000 pound elephant in the room that no one wants to acknowledge, and if someone dares to, it always draws cries of protest, and labels like neo-Luddite.
Jim,
Thanks for the comment. I feel kind of split on this. My internet usage has definitely drawn time from other areas of my life (I’m yet to discover how to make the day longer, and not completely sure I’d like to, either), but I’m pretty certain that it’s largely replaced television as a diversion. I got rid of my cable, and now have no TV. Ergo, I’m online a whole lot more.
And then there’s the aspect of the Kunkel’s article that I disagree with: that the internet is inherently frivolous or ethereal. Certainly the speed of the information is greater, which leads to a lot of knee-jerk, ill-considered reaction, but I think that replacing TV with the internet has made me a much more active, more engaged person, and I think, a more intelligent one. Could I have replaced TV with Proust? Sure, but, come on.
As far as how it’s effected my writing and my creative life, that’s a bit harder to answer. It’s an obvious distraction, especially the more entertaining aspects of it (people always talk about Facebook and Twitter and ESPN.com and whatnot, but I never find myself saying “I could write my novel, but I’d rather read The Atlantic online”), but when I’m online I am writing. This seems key to me: when you “waste time online,” you write (largely, unless you’re watching porn). In the end, I think this blog, as well as my personal blog and my other efforts online, are very likely to be my “life’s work,” creatively speaking. And I think I’m okay with that. They entertain people. They’re occasionally insightful, and they give me a forum for contemplation (something Kunkel seems to want to do entirely alone. Maybe he and I are just wired differently). Maybe some day, people will be looking back at the best blogs and at sites like The Awl or The Rumpus and saying “This was real art.” Or maybe not. Maybe the blog will seem horribly archaic and stiff. Or maybe Benjamin Kunkel will end up being remembered not for the novels he writes, but rather for his work at n+1 or even maybe essays like “Lingering.” I guess I just think that what we’re all doing here has some meaning. Maybe, in the end, more meaning than the novel I force myself to work on.
I used to have much more time to fiddle faddle around on the Internet. I don’t anymore. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.