Let's just chat
Well, as instructed, I have investigated lulu.com, and it appears that I could indeed, if I so wished, construct a book. I could even arrange for it to be made available for purchase online, and specify exactly the size and quality of paper it should be printed upon, and how it should be bound and decorated. And all, it would seem, at negligible cost to myself. In fact, I might even emerge with a profit, should I be able to persuade anyone ever actually to buy it, I see that one enterprising author there has decided to charge £1,000 per copy of his book, from which I infer that his target audience consists of his immediate family. Alternatively, this could just be evidence of some devilish tax-avoidance or money-laundering scheme, the murky world of publishing may well offer a myriad of opportunities for claiming bogus tax refunds, or for transforming illicit profits from the narcotics trade into legitimate business revenue.
All in all, though, and despite the obvious appeal of being able to say 'I published a book', when challenged as to what I had actually achieved during my year of leisure, I can't honestly say that I feel any great enthusiasm, either for collating some arbitrary selection of previous weblog entries, and passing these off as being worthy of sustained attention, or indeed for producing some new, and longer, sequence of words, designed expressly to be printed, and bound, and read, just for its own sake. If I had wanted to write a book, I would have written a book. As it was, I decided to write a weblog instead.
Weblogs are not books. They are not self-contained or bounded, and they do not follow the classic conventions of literature by having a plot, or characters. They do not attempt to illustrate any great truths, or show by example any deep patterns of human behaviour. They shed no light upon the human condition, and they are not crafted so as to evoke deep emotion in the reader. For all these reasons they do not qualify as art, and although one might argue that there are similarities both in the medium, and in the execution, neither the writer nor the reader should approach a weblog in the same way as they do a novel, or a play.
Neither, in my mind, and despite the depressing volume of evidence to the contrary, are they some sort of public diary. Teenagers (and some adults) may make use of the weblog form to chronicle the minutiae of their day to day lives, and express their ever-changing feelings and opinions, but when it comes down to it, these really are just old-fashioned diaries, and like diaries they catalogue, with neither intent nor analysis, the vicissitudes of their author's existence, and the rainbow variations of their moods. They are often entertaining, and sometimes moving, but they are not weblogs. They are just diaries.
The 'classic' weblog is, of course, the insider view, whether this be the low-down on the inner workings of Microsoft, or the grisly details of life as a paramedic, or revelations about the hidden world of escort agencies. Classic these may be, but again, to me, they are not weblogs. They are just reality TV, without the pictures. Depending on one's interest in the subject matter, they may be informative, or dull. They may occasionally reveal some unexpected, and intriguing facet of an unfamiliar way of life, but for the most part they cater only to voyeurs and inadequates, who derive from them either a crude titillation, or an illusory sense of self-importance.
A true weblog, in my view, is a noble and honest undertaking, and at its heart is a desire to converse. Not to communicate, or to inform, or to entertain, although all of these may be employed as tools in its cause. Conversation, in its proper sense, does not involve merely the mutual exchange of personal histories, or the sharing of views on the topic under discussion. Instead, it is the mechanism whereby we most fully express our identity, and our inner nature, our delight in the company of others, and our respect and appreciation for them. To converse, one must think, and analyse, and react, and always be trying to excite, and to puzzle, and to gratify. In its most perfect form, a good conversation will combine the grace and sensuality of a dance, the sheer aesthetic delight of a fugue, and the intellectual challenge of a chess match.
You can't get that from a book. A book is a monologue, it may be very clever, and very entertaining, but it is just a pale shadow of a conversation. And, of course, it lacks that most vital of elements, interactivity. Books are static, they exist as an inert boulder in the flowing river of events, deaf and unaware. You can point at a book, and make fun of it, and laugh, and it will not notice. You can draw a moustache on it, and spectacles, or even dress it up with a frilly bonnet, and it will not react at all. Now you just try doing that with a weblog. You will get more than you bargained for, but if you are lucky, you will emerge from the experience not only wiser, but also more cheerful.
Conversation is, I think, a subtle combination of interactivity, honesty, and artifice. The interactivity makes it real, and relevant, and personal, instead of being some fixed object to be admired, or ignored, like a statue in a museum, it is right there happening in front of you, and in fact you are part of it, your contribution is actually necessary to make it work at all. The honesty is the whole point of it, the only real purpose to the exercise, what you are trying to get to is that subtle delight of understanding someone, and having them understand you, not just knowing what people have done, or where they've been, or what they thought about it, but actually knowing them, their nature, and their essence, and knowing that in return they are also getting an insight into you too, that in some mystical way a truth is being exchanged, a deeper understanding than simple familiarity.
And the artifice? Well that is like the wrapping on a present, or the icing on the cake, it is how we show our respect for people, by making an effort. It is a signifier both of our regard for them, and of the importance we attach to the process itself. Conversation is a special thing, of all the activities we engage in it is perhaps the only one capable of bringing us true peace and fulfillment, when we speak our deepest thoughts into the darkness, and hear reply. And, of course, the artifice itself serves not only to enrich and give depth to the ideas and views we articulate, but also to reveal more subtle aspects of our character, the things that we find amusing, or that we admire, or even how we ourselves would like to be perceived.
And so, having thought about it, I have decided to carry on, just with a weblog.
All in all, though, and despite the obvious appeal of being able to say 'I published a book', when challenged as to what I had actually achieved during my year of leisure, I can't honestly say that I feel any great enthusiasm, either for collating some arbitrary selection of previous weblog entries, and passing these off as being worthy of sustained attention, or indeed for producing some new, and longer, sequence of words, designed expressly to be printed, and bound, and read, just for its own sake. If I had wanted to write a book, I would have written a book. As it was, I decided to write a weblog instead.
Weblogs are not books. They are not self-contained or bounded, and they do not follow the classic conventions of literature by having a plot, or characters. They do not attempt to illustrate any great truths, or show by example any deep patterns of human behaviour. They shed no light upon the human condition, and they are not crafted so as to evoke deep emotion in the reader. For all these reasons they do not qualify as art, and although one might argue that there are similarities both in the medium, and in the execution, neither the writer nor the reader should approach a weblog in the same way as they do a novel, or a play.
Neither, in my mind, and despite the depressing volume of evidence to the contrary, are they some sort of public diary. Teenagers (and some adults) may make use of the weblog form to chronicle the minutiae of their day to day lives, and express their ever-changing feelings and opinions, but when it comes down to it, these really are just old-fashioned diaries, and like diaries they catalogue, with neither intent nor analysis, the vicissitudes of their author's existence, and the rainbow variations of their moods. They are often entertaining, and sometimes moving, but they are not weblogs. They are just diaries.
The 'classic' weblog is, of course, the insider view, whether this be the low-down on the inner workings of Microsoft, or the grisly details of life as a paramedic, or revelations about the hidden world of escort agencies. Classic these may be, but again, to me, they are not weblogs. They are just reality TV, without the pictures. Depending on one's interest in the subject matter, they may be informative, or dull. They may occasionally reveal some unexpected, and intriguing facet of an unfamiliar way of life, but for the most part they cater only to voyeurs and inadequates, who derive from them either a crude titillation, or an illusory sense of self-importance.
A true weblog, in my view, is a noble and honest undertaking, and at its heart is a desire to converse. Not to communicate, or to inform, or to entertain, although all of these may be employed as tools in its cause. Conversation, in its proper sense, does not involve merely the mutual exchange of personal histories, or the sharing of views on the topic under discussion. Instead, it is the mechanism whereby we most fully express our identity, and our inner nature, our delight in the company of others, and our respect and appreciation for them. To converse, one must think, and analyse, and react, and always be trying to excite, and to puzzle, and to gratify. In its most perfect form, a good conversation will combine the grace and sensuality of a dance, the sheer aesthetic delight of a fugue, and the intellectual challenge of a chess match.
You can't get that from a book. A book is a monologue, it may be very clever, and very entertaining, but it is just a pale shadow of a conversation. And, of course, it lacks that most vital of elements, interactivity. Books are static, they exist as an inert boulder in the flowing river of events, deaf and unaware. You can point at a book, and make fun of it, and laugh, and it will not notice. You can draw a moustache on it, and spectacles, or even dress it up with a frilly bonnet, and it will not react at all. Now you just try doing that with a weblog. You will get more than you bargained for, but if you are lucky, you will emerge from the experience not only wiser, but also more cheerful.
Conversation is, I think, a subtle combination of interactivity, honesty, and artifice. The interactivity makes it real, and relevant, and personal, instead of being some fixed object to be admired, or ignored, like a statue in a museum, it is right there happening in front of you, and in fact you are part of it, your contribution is actually necessary to make it work at all. The honesty is the whole point of it, the only real purpose to the exercise, what you are trying to get to is that subtle delight of understanding someone, and having them understand you, not just knowing what people have done, or where they've been, or what they thought about it, but actually knowing them, their nature, and their essence, and knowing that in return they are also getting an insight into you too, that in some mystical way a truth is being exchanged, a deeper understanding than simple familiarity.
And the artifice? Well that is like the wrapping on a present, or the icing on the cake, it is how we show our respect for people, by making an effort. It is a signifier both of our regard for them, and of the importance we attach to the process itself. Conversation is a special thing, of all the activities we engage in it is perhaps the only one capable of bringing us true peace and fulfillment, when we speak our deepest thoughts into the darkness, and hear reply. And, of course, the artifice itself serves not only to enrich and give depth to the ideas and views we articulate, but also to reveal more subtle aspects of our character, the things that we find amusing, or that we admire, or even how we ourselves would like to be perceived.
And so, having thought about it, I have decided to carry on, just with a weblog.