Gone Fishing
Why things are quieter around here.
As assiduous readers will know, I’m currently writing a popular history of technology with the intention of crushing the pervasive-yet-seldom-discussed idea of technological determinism like a Mark V tank rolling over an army of pingpong balls. (It will be published globally by Crown, an imprint of Penguin Random House, sometime in 2028, provided the world is still intact and books are still published in 2028.)
It is not an unambitious book. I’ve had to thoroughly explore the voluminous literature on the relationship between people and technology and the even more voluminous history of technology.
It’s a lot of work, is what I’m saying.
I note this not to elicit expressions of pity, or not only for that, but to explain why this space has gone quiet for some time. And is likely to stay quiet for a good while more.
I’ve maxed out my mental bandwidth. I need to focus.
A month or so ago, I turned off paid subscriptions. I love my paid subscribers. I now have a small library of books about technology, paid for by your generosity. Bless you. But reciprocity is the foundation of civilization, so until I can offer you writing in exchange for your generosity, I’ll keep paid subscriptions turned off. Note that if you took out a year’s subscription, turning off paid subscriptions turns off the clock, so you’ll still get a proper year’s subscription.
Also, if, for any reason, you want or need to cancel your subscription, please do. Some people are so damned nice they don’t want to do something a writer may interpret as condemnation, so they keep paying. You’re lovely. It’s people like you — along with reciprocity — who are the foundation of civilization. But cancel. I won’t take it personally.
In the meantime, I’ll still write small stuff occasionally. And I’ll post odds and ends on Notes, which is Substack’s equivalent of Twitter. (I’ll also continue to have nothing to do with X, which I’ve discovered is a remarkably effective way to lighten my mood and raise my IQ. I wish everyone would give it a try.)
Auf wiedersehen and à bientôt.
I'm pleased to read whatever you choose to write. Best wishes with your book!
Mr. Gardner, do what you've been doing: Write when you have something to say that fits a substack and doesn't need a book. Or when you're so pissed off that your family worries for your wellbeing...and the family glassware. For that, I'd judge that you've shown remarkably stable self-control. With remarkably little of the profanity that is now de rigueur in "modern" journalism.
To quote the much-missed Douglas Adams, "Thanks for all the fish." Maybe give your subscribers an opportunity to have an autographed copy of the first print run?