Culturalism

The Importance of Physical Books

After watching The Prudentialist’s take on memory and dystopias, I was struck by a certain realization: physical books really are essential. This feels difficult to accept when one is on the production side, as it is painful to work with the machinations of formatting and page design. For example, my most recent production involved a battle over how to keep chapter headings in place, and earlier offerings had problems related to subheadings flying across pages to leave white seas of blank in their wake. At times you want to simply bin the whole thing and capitulate to ebook hegemony.

Yet maybe that’s all part of the plan. While digital promotion offers the benefits of speed and relative affordability, the medium also denies readers certain unquestionable privileges. When we hold a book in our hands, it embodies a legacy inheritance of the author’s mind. The text remains continuously accessible as long as ownership does not lapse, and serves to safeguard that period of history and production. No one can say “that didn’t happen,” or at least not without facing the challenge of bound paper imprinted by dates, or, perhaps more importantly, the writer’s transmission at that time. Language style might give further clues to the temporal skeptics, along with any strong allegories from history.

In contrast, a digital file is easier to hide under the ghosting of propaganda.  It can be corrupted, lost based on a device’s failure, or drowned by internet search results. More distinctly, one might argue that an ebook is not really a book at all, particularly in the case of Amazon. While paperback books receive an ISBN and are traceable in the global database of written texts, ebooks that lack a paper cousin have no such advantage. Thus you are free to delete the digital title from Bezos-Chan’s website and it will properly disappear. A paperback on the other hand can be removed, but the profile remains in place because of its ISBN listing. Sure, Amazon could elect to withdraw a book from its website, but as long as the paper version exists there will be a record on the internet.

This is precisely what our elitist overlords do not want. Like the Green Lady from The Silver Chair, they insist any prior world and history is a dream, and in fact never existed. We are supposed to believe that America was founded on the principle of diversity, genders do not matter, and the make-believe “fascist establishment” is actually oppressing liberal partisans desiring progress. These can only be made true if individuals lose all contact with their past and come to think that the start of history was 2008. So far they have been remarkably successful, largely due to social media and the broader digital onslaught in our lives.

While they are only one aspect of the struggle, physical books provide an important measure to toss in the face of leftist propagandists. Build a collection for yourself, and consider it an inheritance to be passed on at some point. Value oral histories and traditions as well, for these are even more difficult to eradicate when they continue to be practiced. Keep a journal, and consider printing out photographs instead of storing them “in the cloud,” where someday things could just vanish. You don’t need to be a revolutionary, but simply avoid succumbing to this bland technical erasure.   

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Dear Anonymous Commenter

Go spilt your venom
to all who see
ravaged silence
or bended knees

That once prayed
by mantis ring
where savior souls
aloft did sing

A beauty muttered
voices exchange
but endless bitter
thine odor rains.

To target one
vile twice
whose hearts did naught
but anguish splice.

What lone is bare
past reply sheer
solemn joy
or smoking tear?

Far regale
the mists so strife,
still time on time
why waste your life?  

Culturalism · Relations and Dating · Self-Improvement

The Importance of Keeping a Journal

“Those fateful days, robust hours, frightful minutes, all lost to the shimmering gray wall of forever.”

Not sure where that quotation came from, so we’ll just say Martin Goldberg. At any rate, it touches upon one of the most direct arguments I can make for the maintenance of a daily – if not at least every other day—written journal. This remains one of the most crucial habits you can adopt in life, and, perhaps unsurprisingly, the practice is relatively uncommon.

As human beings, our capacity for long-term memory is relatively limited. Most of us cannot remember in detail a single day twenty years ago, or even one two weeks passed. It could be something to do with the monotony of everyday life, yet the realization is no less disconcerting under that lens. It is probably not a stretch to say that 97 percent of your life is a frantic blur, and that is somehow acceptable. I try to even but I simply cannot.

Think of the memories, the specifics, whether good or bad, all dashed to pieces in short order, their legacies gone before a second breath. The magnitude is an overwhelming spell of terror. What’s more, those absent slices of time make up your life.

On this very hill we must consider the value of a journal. By jotting down specific notes of what went on and who was involved, the individual crafts an enduring story which can outsmart the mind and leave imprints to be rediscovered in later days. There is no more – or certainly less—of the scrambling wonder, the attempt to recall a name or face, especially as you gaze down the churning tide of advanced age. Instead of being a stumbled and haggard crone reaching for the vanished past, you can feel the touch of scrolls, the scent of faded ink, the love of days gone by but never perished. You have the ability to return, and to revisit.

Now of course at some point you may pass on into that place beyond the stars, where few souls have gone and reported back. Yet with a journal you live on. The heart of the child, young or grown to fill difficult shoes, will look at and enter the mind of his father, feel the echoes of the time, the memory he was too small to experience. Daughters will find the wisdom of their mother, what things she loved, the joy that spoke, rich tears all cried. The legacy will be one living, from time towards a horizon eternal.

All fault of a pen touched gently to the paper.