This week I put together a reading list for my digital aura series. I recall starting to write around Thanksgiving — but when I looked back at my reading, I’d started reading for it months earlier. (No wonder it’s felt like such a big endeavor!)
I’ve been thinking about taste for a while now, but last spring I decided to dig deeper into it, feeling the pressure of AI on the creative industries: what builds taste? how do aesthetics reflect ideologies? why didn’t I think genAI was art even though it looked like it — what made something art? what was the point of making something yourself if an LLM or diffusion model could generate text and graphics effortlessly?
I didn’t know quite what I would end up writing about when I set out on this experiment with more focused reading a year and a half ago. After a few rounds of library borrows, I realized I wasn’t that interested in some of the paths I first explored, and noticed the direction of my library borrows shifting. (This is the beauty of the library: open exploration without financial restraint.) First I was working through how aesthetics and taste work online and what defines art-making — and then it felt natural to turn my attention to aura and the digital signifiers of authenticity. I hadn’t been thinking about digital aura when I started reading about aesthetics — but every book suggested another to read and every answer generated a new question*.
Now that this line of thinking feels like it’s wrapping up, I’m not sure what question I want to take on next. I’ve enjoyed this process so much that I know I want to keep going… just not towards what. Looking back at what I read as I chased the question of digital aura has been a reminder that I don’t need to know yet — that I can simply follow my curiosity; starting with some reading that draws me will open up new questions I wouldn’t think to ask now. (I’ve collected a number of books about places and non-places, but I’m not sure what my question is there yet.) There are multiple stages in the question answering process; the first phase of reading can be exploratory, with focused attention toward specific problems and gaps coming later.
I recently read an article by Carlo Iacono challenging the narrative that people’s attention spans have been permanently ruined for long-form reading, instead proposing that people who struggle with long-form reading are suffering from a bad reading environment:
“What strikes me most is the difference between people who’ve learned to construct what I call ‘containers for attention’ – bounded spaces and practices where different modes of engagement become possible – and those who haven’t. The distinction isn’t about intelligence or discipline. It’s about environmental architecture.”
I think this is a bit of a yes-and situation: that people’s habit of focused attention has been eroded and needs to be rebuilt, and a bad reading environment* is what is getting in the way of that. (Setting up a reading chair by the window has been a boon for reading physical books for me.)
I also wonder if some of the friction people are noticing in long-form reading comes from choosing the “wrong” books to start rebuilding their focus. Optimization culture makes us want to read “the best” book on any subject (or the longest novel if Goodreads is any indication), even if we might not be ready for it yet. We know better than to expect ourselves to be able to run a marathon without training, but it’s easy to forget that our minds are embodied too: our thinking both softens with disuse and can be honed with practice.
Part of this project for me has been practicing how to read towards a question, and part of that is learning how to read more effectively. I knew from the repeated references that Walter Benjamin was going to be a key text, but let myself work up to him. (I’ve started re-reading the essay recently and my attention has been drawn to different parts than my first read — what a gift this essay has been, and continues to be.) Sometimes it’s worthwhile to hurl yourself into a challenging book (this is what How to Read a Book advocates, and worked out OK for me on The Pleasure of the Text)… but sometimes the brute force approach makes learning much harder than it needs to be. Choosing a good route is critical to reaching the summit of a mountain; coming at a difficult text or a big question from an angle might make the climb much easier (and more enjoyable).
The way I often read non-fiction — snatches of twenty pages here, twenty pages there, putting a book down for two months (or two years) at a time — is not conducive to *finishing* books, but I do find it conducive to thinking. Rich texts can take a while to sink in, so I’ll jump to another book while I let the first one marinate. (Hence why I’m still chipping away at Simulacra and Simulation 😂) Robert Poynton writes, “Slow hunches don’t develop if you work relentlessly on a problem.”
I read part of The Extinction of Experience last summer, then checked it out from the library again when the parts I had skipped on first read seemed pertinent. Earlier this year, I was working on a blog post and realized, “Saving Time might have something to say about this!” which I’ve read half of over the past couple years in two distinct chunks. (Saving Time would probably have something to say about this 🤔) This might sound utilitarian, that I’m reading things as I “need” them, but I think of it more as reading things when I’m ready for them.
It’s possible to fall into work mentality even for a self-assigned project, but given that this labor is a form of leisure, I want to grant myself an unhurried approach and preserve an attitude of play. I want books to be an invitation I offer myself, not an assignment. In The Plenitude of Distraction, Marina Van Zuylen suggests letting “good” distractions take you somewhere interesting:
“The key to this positive distraction lies precisely in the delay, a delay that energizes and creates the free circulation of ideas and affects.”
Ah, yes, I skimmed back through my underlines in Saving Time and Jenny Odell comes through for me again! She talks abut “self-directed wandering” as leisure — this is the intellectual equivalent — and imagines “a kind of leisure that pushes against rather than bolsters the current order… something vitally related to political imagination.” This is exactly what blogging is for me: a way to perceive the world more clearly, cut through false mythos, and build a better dream.
I have to say something about the Knicks, who just blew out the Sixers in a sweep, 4 games to zero. They've never played this well. They are more than a deep team of great athletes, they are highly intelligent people and they're all really working together. Right now, it feels like a sure thing that they'll breeze through the next round and face off OKC or San Antonio in the finals, and that will be something. But I know that's not the right way to look at it. The next series is going to be with a team that feels the title is theirs as much as the Knicks do. I've been with the Knicks through the worst of times that never seemed to end. And now for something