For our first book club, we read Robin Sloan’s novel, Mr. Penumbra’s 24‑Hour Bookstore. But please stick around even if you haven’t read the book; there’s plenty for everyone to talk about.
“Penumbra,” an adventure about a mysterious San Francisco bookstore and the secrets within, is about the endlessly evolving, disruptive nature of technology, going all the way back to Manutius’ innovations in book-printing and publishing. But amidst all this change, and the amazing tools we now have at our disposal, Robin makes a larger argument about what’s truly important and worth prioritizing: our relationships. In the epilogue, the author wraps it up with this lovely bit:
There is no immortality that is not built on friendship and work done with care. All the secrets in the world worth knowing are hiding in plain sight. It takes forty-one seconds to climb a ladder three stories tall. It's not easy to imagine the year 3012, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try. We have new capabilities now—strange powers we're still getting used to. …
Often, we take those relationships and that work for granted. Let’s highlight some of your favorite examples:
What does friendship and care look like on the internet?
Feel free to discuss the book in full, but consider starting your post with SPOILER if you want to talk plot specifics. Also, we have Robin in the chat at the start. Please feel free to ask him any questions you have about the book or any other aspects of his work, from making music with AI, to paying close attention online, to thinking about web3, to making olive oil.
We are assuming that you, like us, are looking for more flourishing places on the internet. We want this to be one of those places! Please treat others with openness, generosity and respect.
Later this morning, at this cafe where I'm sitting now, I'll meet up with an old friend who's just read the manuscript for my next novel. This is my season for feedback, and it has convinced me: reading someone's work, and *thinking* about it, and *articulating* those thoughts, is one of the deepest expressions of friendship & care there is. Oh—and doing so privately. The "private email response to a public post" is hugely underrated.
I have to duck out now (for that manuscript meetup) but if anyone has any other thoughts or questions for me specifically, feel free to send… yes… a private email 😉
Yes! I think email as a personal communication tool is critically under utilized. Taking the time to think through a complete note, a coherent string of thoughts directed to a particular person or project is an act of deep caring for me. It's like writing a letter to a loved one. In so many online spaces we are encouraged to respond instantly and in micro-format. I would love to see a return to email or a tool like email for personal and careful communication on the internet.
Of course, the way the feeling of private conversation sort of "vibrates against" the desire for a rich common space (*looks up at web page header, sees word "Public"*) is interesting…
True! But we long ago realized how important private spaces are to the mission of building a public "commons." There is some tension, but it seems like a necessary component! –Josh
It is so underrated! I wonder how much email as the default medium for this kind of private response has worked to devalue that. What are spaces that allows for public sharing but incentivizes private response?
Years ago, there was a terrific website called Hitotoki, so thoughtfully designed, that just never got traction. It was built around the idea of posting little "status reports", Twitter-like, though with an emphasis on real places, and its default/only reply mode was a short private response to the author. Too beautiful for this world!
I always think of Wikipedia. Those mods work so hard, for free, on subjects very much being written in real time. And I'd be willing to bet that there's no small amount of friendship being formed on there as well.
What struck me most about the book was its incredible generosity - as someone who (for my sins) worked at Google in that pre-techlash era but also is a huge lover of old bookshops and mysteries - there was something about the tone of Mr Penumbra that I seek in internet spaces in general. Even characters that were - ahem - less charming than others, such as Ms Google, were dealt with kindly. That felt so rare. Especially, the epilogue, the idea of living your life like an open city, has stayed with me very strongly.
Ahhhh I got the prompt wrong. Well, as a highly active Blogger user in 2007-2010 or so - the book reminded me of the discovery, the chaos, the kindness of the very particular blogging circles I was in back then. We were writing for each other, commerce wasn't part of the equation, and many of our real life friends thought we were mad. I probably speak to someone in met in that era of my life most days.
I have to confess that I never got into—never really understood—the "open thread" dynamic. Like, not at all. (He says, in an open thread!) It's just interesting to notice that "peak blog" actually had a lot of variation, and there were certain approaches that clicked more or less for different people.
Yes, it was not a panacea for everyone, and definitely benefits from hindsight and nostalgia now. Still, it did seem like a medium in which more people could really go long on their weird interests. People still do this, for sure, but it feels like it lives in different places now, like newsletters. –Josh
And YouTube videos! Even now, after so many years, I think the richness and depth of YouTube is a blind spot for "word people" (like me). It's clear that video offers a different grammar for people who would never go long, on any platform, in plain old text. For my part, I feel like I still don't take this seriously enough!
Yes! I mean, in a very real way, Penumbra emerged directly out of that scene, and those feelings. Writing a blog circa 2004 led to posting short stories circa 2009 led to publishing a novel circa 2012, all links in a chain. I'm perfectly happy if Penumbra is nothing of note beyond a record, an impression, of that mini-era of writing & thinking together.
That feeling came through so strongly for me! And the mini-era comment makes me think of how scenes are increasingly compressed and fleeting; that sets of signals or behaviours that cluster together, and have meaning both to those in it and beyond, are speeding up/getting more and more mini. Perhaps that comment in itself is indicative of my age or internet "type" but, for those of us who have read your web3 notes too, how do you make sense of the digital eras we're in?
I don't feel like I have a handle on it anymore! Beyond the High Blogging Era, I think I was early to the appeal of email newsletters, and I can solidly articulate why & how they're still so different from the rest of the internet. At the same time, they feel to me like a retreat; which isn't necessarily a bad thing, just different from the exploratory mood of blogs or (yes) Web3.
I have been tinkering on a simple new internet protocol; I'm unsure if I'll ever release any software implementing it, BUT, AND, even just the experience of thinking about it has been useful & revelatory for me. Simple questions like: what do you *want* from the internet, anyway?
Yes! Commodification, for one thing, has made blogs far less fun. And it feels much harder to build trust than it used to be. Trust is so fundamental to online friendship, and it felt good to see that represented in the book.
Trust is fundamental to EVERYTHING. It's by far the largest non-recognized asset on the balance sheets of all the big tech companies, like Google and Amazon, for example.
I also thought there was a lot of generosity to the characters. That's the perfect word. I also feel like their generosity is dependent on being called out / called in by one another to take account for who they are and what they do, and also freedom to be who they are and grow, both of which are truly beautiful offerings, forms of attainment and respect in friendship.
Drawing on Robin's idea that to love on the internet is to return: on social media specifically, I think slowing down and allowing space for context might be an act of care.
The challenge, of course, is that slowing down doesn't "show up" on the internet. I mean, even in this context, right here, the act of reading and considering is totally invisible; only the act of speaking shows up. (Hello!) One of the great properties of physical space, one that's still totally (?) missing online, is what I think of as the "eloquence" of quiet presence.
Imagine if, in the material world, when you stopped speaking, you disappeared, *poof*…!
The Center for Humane Technology has been using Spatial Chat (https://spatial.chat) for some of their events. I think that preserves some of what you're referring to.
Sometimes I do a thought experiment in my head, imagining a Twitter timeline in which every time a person decided *not* to tweet, it put a little message in the timeline: "@robinsloan has nothing to say at this time," etc. You'd have to scroll and scroll to find the "real" tweets, and I am fascinated by the feeling I get, just imagining it.
It's like how just sitting back and 'listening' is only really revealed when someone comments, "Longtime lurker, first-time commenter". Or how when speaking to a group of people on Zoom with their videos off, you can't get any sense that people are listening.
And isn't it interesting that we consider only speaking valid - if that happened in real life conversation it would feel terrible. Listening is one of the strongest acts of care someone can do, imho.
One hundred percent! Something like Netflix Party might be an exaggeration of this idea. There's little room to enjoy the TV show/movie in silence, I feel the need to constantly react to let the other person know I'm around.
I read the book and enjoyed the writing a lot. My favorite thing about the book is the depth of the community and mutual responsibility that formed so it's fun today's question is about friendship and care.
I want to throw in mini-conferences as a model of friendship and care, because this gets to the actual context we desire. Of course, Zoom can be painful but the right pace and timing, and the right enthralling content, can create that showing up we need and want.
Robin, I just learned that you’re involved in making music with AI. Alan Kay’s project at Xerox PARC creating a system that transcribed music improvisations played at a keyboard was one of the first things to get me excited about computers. And a friend of mine later developed the program, Instant Music, for the Amiga. It was the first contrained semi-automatic music program. Later, I programmed some code in Forth that controlled a Serge Modular synthesizer to interact with the user, via genetic algorithms, to produce “music” the user liked. Please say more about what you’re doing. P.S.: I loved your book. Great fun!
Jeff, that's cool to hear! I handle the AI part of this project with the composer Jesse Solomon Clark: https://ooo.ghostbows.ooo/ I have used different kinds of generative music systems in the past, and even designed one with Jesse. What makes this different is its resolution; it makes music sample-by-sample, rather than note-by-note, which means it can be super expressive and surprising. It often sounds like you're tuning into a ghost radio.
Sample-by-sample... Reminds me of an idea I had. In a way analogous to the graphic images that are actually made up of many smaller graphic images with the appropriate colors, one could take any piece of music, and replace every note with a note of the same frequency taken from some other piece. Not sure how that would sound, but might be interesting.
Robin has exited the chat, but he's left a lot of great stuff in here to think about and respond to. Let's open it up to other questions/comments about the book. Stay tuned for a very long, wide-ranging conversation Q+A with Robin in the New_ Public newsletter this Sunday.
I think that care causes friction, and on an internet that seeks a "frictionless" experience, it can sometimes feel antithetical. Friction "slows things down" as others have mentioned here as an important part of that, but there's also a sense of synchronicity that still feels not achieved--spaces where you feel truly present with others. Despite everything we experienced during COVID on Zoom and other real-time platforms, that sense of presence was missing.
Indeed. When we asked people to visually represent their online experiences during the pandemic, it was really difficult. Memory formation online seems to be quite different. https://miro.com/app/board/o9J_lNDYdd0=/
my Twitter alt (and network of my friends’s alts) is one of my favorite places to ambiently keep up with people and enjoy social media sans the performative aspects
Also, as care goes, the most gorgeous thing I've read lately -- and it's so good *every* trans person I have ever met over the age of 16 is reading it or has read it (bc who doesn't love the success of reading a 61-page book??) -- is Malatino's _Trans Care_, free here: https://manifold.umn.edu/projects/trans-care
Thanks, Josh! It's so delicious -- hope you enjoy. There's a great undercurrent about public and private spaces in the book I just wrote something on. Happy to share with anyone if they're thinking about these things too.
In the book, there was to me a tension between 1) our human fascination and desire to attain individual immortality and 2) maintaining traditions versus cultivating sustainable friendships and celebrating incredible collaborations through eternity. Which is better, or more valuable to society? Admiration for a great sports TEAM or a GOAT athlete? But, really, could the athlete have accomplished much by themselves? Unfortunately, it seems to me that our society doesn’t do enough to highlight supportive networks, collaborations, friendships online or IRL.
Yes, I think there's something in human nature where we want to hear stories about other specific individuals doing something. But obviously some cultures, around the world and throughout history, are more individualist while others are more collectivist. I think you're on to something, but it's a huge question! –Josh
Key here is “hear” not read. This ability, not the skill to write supports the oral tradition which is far more impactful than we have understood largely because writers still dominate organizations and professions like journalism for that matter. The web provides support to those who can and do more than write, but as disruptive as it was to publishing, old habits die hard and our educational system still churns out communicators with limited broadcasting skills. My indigenous friends refer to academics as “book people.” The Indigenous channels on YouTube have really begun to grow - wide and deep - as they acquire sills and bring their stories and teachings to us!
Unfortunately I haven't read Mr. Penumbra’s 24‑Hour Bookstore, though based on this description I'll check it out!
To answer the question, I've been thinking a lot recently about crowdfunding campaigns and their evolution in recent years into spaces for mutual aid in times of crisis, and the networks that are built out of providing direct financial assistance to those in need. While crowdfunding platforms themselves have questionable ethics as for-profit entities, and the societal need to help those in distress in lieu of government intervention is problematic at best, it has been heartening to see strangers take care for one another over and over again.
Later this morning, at this cafe where I'm sitting now, I'll meet up with an old friend who's just read the manuscript for my next novel. This is my season for feedback, and it has convinced me: reading someone's work, and *thinking* about it, and *articulating* those thoughts, is one of the deepest expressions of friendship & care there is. Oh—and doing so privately. The "private email response to a public post" is hugely underrated.
Love the idea of a "season for feedback" –Josh
I have to duck out now (for that manuscript meetup) but if anyone has any other thoughts or questions for me specifically, feel free to send… yes… a private email 😉
I'm at robin@robinsloan.com. Thanks for this, Josh & New_ Public!
Thanks so much Robin! –Josh
Yes! I think email as a personal communication tool is critically under utilized. Taking the time to think through a complete note, a coherent string of thoughts directed to a particular person or project is an act of deep caring for me. It's like writing a letter to a loved one. In so many online spaces we are encouraged to respond instantly and in micro-format. I would love to see a return to email or a tool like email for personal and careful communication on the internet.
Of course, the way the feeling of private conversation sort of "vibrates against" the desire for a rich common space (*looks up at web page header, sees word "Public"*) is interesting…
True! But we long ago realized how important private spaces are to the mission of building a public "commons." There is some tension, but it seems like a necessary component! –Josh
"Pools of light" - one of Christopher Alexander's patterns.
Recent writing on A Pattern Language: https://newpublic.substack.com/p/-from-street-cafes-to-sacred-sites?s=w
It is so underrated! I wonder how much email as the default medium for this kind of private response has worked to devalue that. What are spaces that allows for public sharing but incentivizes private response?
Years ago, there was a terrific website called Hitotoki, so thoughtfully designed, that just never got traction. It was built around the idea of posting little "status reports", Twitter-like, though with an emphasis on real places, and its default/only reply mode was a short private response to the author. Too beautiful for this world!
Logging this one for research later. –Josh
I think it's this one: http://web.archive.org/web/20220212060349/https://hitotoki.org/
I just YES out loud reading this. What a lovely morning you're going to have.
I always think of Wikipedia. Those mods work so hard, for free, on subjects very much being written in real time. And I'd be willing to bet that there's no small amount of friendship being formed on there as well.
What struck me most about the book was its incredible generosity - as someone who (for my sins) worked at Google in that pre-techlash era but also is a huge lover of old bookshops and mysteries - there was something about the tone of Mr Penumbra that I seek in internet spaces in general. Even characters that were - ahem - less charming than others, such as Ms Google, were dealt with kindly. That felt so rare. Especially, the epilogue, the idea of living your life like an open city, has stayed with me very strongly.
Ahhhh I got the prompt wrong. Well, as a highly active Blogger user in 2007-2010 or so - the book reminded me of the discovery, the chaos, the kindness of the very particular blogging circles I was in back then. We were writing for each other, commerce wasn't part of the equation, and many of our real life friends thought we were mad. I probably speak to someone in met in that era of my life most days.
No wrong answers! All welcome. Miss "peak blog" very much too. Certain communities, like Ta-Nehisi Coates' were so fun to engage with.
I have to confess that I never got into—never really understood—the "open thread" dynamic. Like, not at all. (He says, in an open thread!) It's just interesting to notice that "peak blog" actually had a lot of variation, and there were certain approaches that clicked more or less for different people.
Yes, it was not a panacea for everyone, and definitely benefits from hindsight and nostalgia now. Still, it did seem like a medium in which more people could really go long on their weird interests. People still do this, for sure, but it feels like it lives in different places now, like newsletters. –Josh
And YouTube videos! Even now, after so many years, I think the richness and depth of YouTube is a blind spot for "word people" (like me). It's clear that video offers a different grammar for people who would never go long, on any platform, in plain old text. For my part, I feel like I still don't take this seriously enough!
Yes! I mean, in a very real way, Penumbra emerged directly out of that scene, and those feelings. Writing a blog circa 2004 led to posting short stories circa 2009 led to publishing a novel circa 2012, all links in a chain. I'm perfectly happy if Penumbra is nothing of note beyond a record, an impression, of that mini-era of writing & thinking together.
That feeling came through so strongly for me! And the mini-era comment makes me think of how scenes are increasingly compressed and fleeting; that sets of signals or behaviours that cluster together, and have meaning both to those in it and beyond, are speeding up/getting more and more mini. Perhaps that comment in itself is indicative of my age or internet "type" but, for those of us who have read your web3 notes too, how do you make sense of the digital eras we're in?
I don't feel like I have a handle on it anymore! Beyond the High Blogging Era, I think I was early to the appeal of email newsletters, and I can solidly articulate why & how they're still so different from the rest of the internet. At the same time, they feel to me like a retreat; which isn't necessarily a bad thing, just different from the exploratory mood of blogs or (yes) Web3.
I have been tinkering on a simple new internet protocol; I'm unsure if I'll ever release any software implementing it, BUT, AND, even just the experience of thinking about it has been useful & revelatory for me. Simple questions like: what do you *want* from the internet, anyway?
I feel like we forget to ask ourselves that sometimes.
Yes! Commodification, for one thing, has made blogs far less fun. And it feels much harder to build trust than it used to be. Trust is so fundamental to online friendship, and it felt good to see that represented in the book.
Trust is fundamental to EVERYTHING. It's by far the largest non-recognized asset on the balance sheets of all the big tech companies, like Google and Amazon, for example.
I also thought there was a lot of generosity to the characters. That's the perfect word. I also feel like their generosity is dependent on being called out / called in by one another to take account for who they are and what they do, and also freedom to be who they are and grow, both of which are truly beautiful offerings, forms of attainment and respect in friendship.
well said! Who did you connect with the most? –Josh
Funny enough: Penumbra. Ha! You?
Probably Clay, or maybe the woman running the textiles museum... I liked her vibe lol. –Josh
Her shade to Neel was *fantastic.* It make me remember this gorgeous space -- https://www.e-architect.com/new-york/moma-american-folk-art-museum -- which was also wildly vertical a la Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore.
Drawing on Robin's idea that to love on the internet is to return: on social media specifically, I think slowing down and allowing space for context might be an act of care.
The challenge, of course, is that slowing down doesn't "show up" on the internet. I mean, even in this context, right here, the act of reading and considering is totally invisible; only the act of speaking shows up. (Hello!) One of the great properties of physical space, one that's still totally (?) missing online, is what I think of as the "eloquence" of quiet presence.
Imagine if, in the material world, when you stopped speaking, you disappeared, *poof*…!
Brings to mind some spaces like quiet Twitch streams for studying, and just being in a space together online. –Josh
The Center for Humane Technology has been using Spatial Chat (https://spatial.chat) for some of their events. I think that preserves some of what you're referring to.
Sometimes I do a thought experiment in my head, imagining a Twitter timeline in which every time a person decided *not* to tweet, it put a little message in the timeline: "@robinsloan has nothing to say at this time," etc. You'd have to scroll and scroll to find the "real" tweets, and I am fascinated by the feeling I get, just imagining it.
Considering tweeting again just to see how this plays out!
very interested! –Josh
It's like how just sitting back and 'listening' is only really revealed when someone comments, "Longtime lurker, first-time commenter". Or how when speaking to a group of people on Zoom with their videos off, you can't get any sense that people are listening.
And isn't it interesting that we consider only speaking valid - if that happened in real life conversation it would feel terrible. Listening is one of the strongest acts of care someone can do, imho.
Indeed there are like a dozen of things like this, including https://skittish.com/
One hundred percent! Something like Netflix Party might be an exaggeration of this idea. There's little room to enjoy the TV show/movie in silence, I feel the need to constantly react to let the other person know I'm around.
Just googled Netflix Party and now I need to live on the moon.
I read the book and enjoyed the writing a lot. My favorite thing about the book is the depth of the community and mutual responsibility that formed so it's fun today's question is about friendship and care.
I want to throw in mini-conferences as a model of friendship and care, because this gets to the actual context we desire. Of course, Zoom can be painful but the right pace and timing, and the right enthralling content, can create that showing up we need and want.
Robin, I just learned that you’re involved in making music with AI. Alan Kay’s project at Xerox PARC creating a system that transcribed music improvisations played at a keyboard was one of the first things to get me excited about computers. And a friend of mine later developed the program, Instant Music, for the Amiga. It was the first contrained semi-automatic music program. Later, I programmed some code in Forth that controlled a Serge Modular synthesizer to interact with the user, via genetic algorithms, to produce “music” the user liked. Please say more about what you’re doing. P.S.: I loved your book. Great fun!
Jeff, that's cool to hear! I handle the AI part of this project with the composer Jesse Solomon Clark: https://ooo.ghostbows.ooo/ I have used different kinds of generative music systems in the past, and even designed one with Jesse. What makes this different is its resolution; it makes music sample-by-sample, rather than note-by-note, which means it can be super expressive and surprising. It often sounds like you're tuning into a ghost radio.
Sample-by-sample... Reminds me of an idea I had. In a way analogous to the graphic images that are actually made up of many smaller graphic images with the appropriate colors, one could take any piece of music, and replace every note with a note of the same frequency taken from some other piece. Not sure how that would sound, but might be interesting.
We've written about the process here: https://ooo.ghostbows.ooo/liner-notes/magnet-train/
Enjoyed that! Nice!
Robin has exited the chat, but he's left a lot of great stuff in here to think about and respond to. Let's open it up to other questions/comments about the book. Stay tuned for a very long, wide-ranging conversation Q+A with Robin in the New_ Public newsletter this Sunday.
I think that care causes friction, and on an internet that seeks a "frictionless" experience, it can sometimes feel antithetical. Friction "slows things down" as others have mentioned here as an important part of that, but there's also a sense of synchronicity that still feels not achieved--spaces where you feel truly present with others. Despite everything we experienced during COVID on Zoom and other real-time platforms, that sense of presence was missing.
Indeed. When we asked people to visually represent their online experiences during the pandemic, it was really difficult. Memory formation online seems to be quite different. https://miro.com/app/board/o9J_lNDYdd0=/
my Twitter alt (and network of my friends’s alts) is one of my favorite places to ambiently keep up with people and enjoy social media sans the performative aspects
a lil reflection I wrote on this a couple years ago: https://jasmine.substack.com/p/-all-the-worlds-a-stage
Also, as care goes, the most gorgeous thing I've read lately -- and it's so good *every* trans person I have ever met over the age of 16 is reading it or has read it (bc who doesn't love the success of reading a 61-page book??) -- is Malatino's _Trans Care_, free here: https://manifold.umn.edu/projects/trans-care
Jack I think you mixed up this link with the one you posted below, but I'd love to see the one you were thinking of
Thanks, Josh! It's so delicious -- hope you enjoy. There's a great undercurrent about public and private spaces in the book I just wrote something on. Happy to share with anyone if they're thinking about these things too.
In the book, there was to me a tension between 1) our human fascination and desire to attain individual immortality and 2) maintaining traditions versus cultivating sustainable friendships and celebrating incredible collaborations through eternity. Which is better, or more valuable to society? Admiration for a great sports TEAM or a GOAT athlete? But, really, could the athlete have accomplished much by themselves? Unfortunately, it seems to me that our society doesn’t do enough to highlight supportive networks, collaborations, friendships online or IRL.
Yes, I think there's something in human nature where we want to hear stories about other specific individuals doing something. But obviously some cultures, around the world and throughout history, are more individualist while others are more collectivist. I think you're on to something, but it's a huge question! –Josh
Key here is “hear” not read. This ability, not the skill to write supports the oral tradition which is far more impactful than we have understood largely because writers still dominate organizations and professions like journalism for that matter. The web provides support to those who can and do more than write, but as disruptive as it was to publishing, old habits die hard and our educational system still churns out communicators with limited broadcasting skills. My indigenous friends refer to academics as “book people.” The Indigenous channels on YouTube have really begun to grow - wide and deep - as they acquire sills and bring their stories and teachings to us!
Unfortunately I haven't read Mr. Penumbra’s 24‑Hour Bookstore, though based on this description I'll check it out!
To answer the question, I've been thinking a lot recently about crowdfunding campaigns and their evolution in recent years into spaces for mutual aid in times of crisis, and the networks that are built out of providing direct financial assistance to those in need. While crowdfunding platforms themselves have questionable ethics as for-profit entities, and the societal need to help those in distress in lieu of government intervention is problematic at best, it has been heartening to see strangers take care for one another over and over again.