Happy New Year, everyone! So ... I have something on my mind tonight.
Earlier this week Catherynne Valente, author of The Orphan’s Tales series and, more recently, The Past Is Red and Comfort Me With Apples, wrote a post on her personal site, Garbagetown: “Stop Talking to Each Other and Start Buying Things: Three Decades of Survival in the Desert of Social Media,” a cri de coeur about internet culture. Tracing the development of life online from the very beginning, she catalogs the ways that the online world has been monetized and hyper-capitalized, and how it’s destroyed the very thing that makes online space valuable: the people, the connections that people make with each other and the friendships we form, friendships that are as real and tangible and powerful as the ones we make in person. It’s well worth the time it takes to read it. Although it’s occasioned by the demise of Twitter, you will recognize sites that, in their time, were as near and dear to you as they were to me, and truths that are immutable no matter the decade.
It made me remember why I was drawn to Daily Kos in the first place: the community. It’s no secret that I was a serial lurker for many years, always thinking about joining and commenting but being too intimidated to do it, always finding that the clever bit I could have added to the conversation had already been said by someone else, and invariably said better. Until the day when one person asked a question that it seemed no one else could answer, and I found my way inside. I found myself, not a stranger, but a welcomed friend.
Valente’s essay it also made me realize why I have been reading my Community Spotlight shifts with a bit of a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Because our community is slowly turning fragmented and meaner. Long-time friends and colleagues snipe at each other, the caustic comment is more common than the outstretched hand, and the warmth that made this place a refuge for nerds and intellectuals of all interests has ebbed.
I don’t know why and I don’t want to dissect the reasons. They’re multitudinous and complicated, and I really don’t care about them; the effects are what concern me. Because yesterday Angmar, a kinder and gentler person you could not find, found himself hidden and dinged by mods. Angmar, who also drew fire last week for a story about two older women arrested for trapping, spaying/neutering, rehoming or, failing all else, re-releasing stray cats. His comment section filled up with variations on “well, actually they were breaking the law” and “cats murder birds!”, the latter sentiment being utterly beside the point and the former being...well, dick-headed. This is how we hurt each other, either out of superior knowledge, or real life frustations that spill over, or simply because we can get away with it. We are losing humility and care for each other.
One of the very best Kossacks who has graced us with her wisdom is Wee Mama, whose profile contains a phrase to live by: “Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary?” There are times recently when her wisdom has been in mighty short supply, and that is just fucking depressing.
...the only thing of any value the site ever offered was the community, its content, its connection, its possibilities, its knowledge. And that can’t be sold with the office space and the codebase. These sites exist because of what we do there.
[Seriously, the Valente is long, but read it. And weep.]
I really don’t want to go all Howard Beale on y’all (if you don’t get the reference, your favorite search engine will help you). After all, Readers and Book Lovers is still an oasis of shelter in an increasingly rancorous world. But dammit folks, we have to be kinder. Truer. We have to say what it necessary. And this feels necessary right now.
Next week we’ll start reading Tamsyn Muir’s Gideon the Ninth. If it’s your first time, persevere — it’s worth it. If it’s your second time, you’ll be more delighted and a lot less confused. I think the best way to read is the way Muir intends us to: dive in, get wet, get confused, and soon enough we’ll get oriented. You can expect cool magic, snark, a big honking dollop of horror, and a mystery. Yes, it’s a murder mystery. Wrapped in an enigma. Folded into a bigger enigma. Tucked inside a cosmic mystery.
It’ll be fun.
And thank you for being here. The world is cold and harsh, and warm, light and comfortable places are hard to come by. I don’t think we appreciate each other enough, and for that, and for my part of that, I’m sorry.