At the supermarket last week, I spontaneously grabbed a magazine — an enactment of nostalgia.
Flipping through the physical pages, I realised that magazines had exited my life long ago. I buy physical books but not magazines.
It is not that I am not reading short pieces of fiction or non-fiction. In fact, most of my reading is short, be it in an anthology of short stories or unusual perspectives in creative non-fiction. The way I found these, however, had changed.
It could be that I am listening to a podcast and a link in the show notes takes me to a newsletter with weekly links to articles. Algorithms have simplified life with personalised recommendations, anticipating (often pre-empting) thought. A more relevant social media feed is taking the random out of the content popping up online.
It is convenient that I get lighting and wall-cladding recommendations because I looked at furniture for decorating my holiday home. I have even saved some colour suggestions for the next paint job. I now know that you can install corner profile lights to create ambient lighting without dropping the height of an already low ceiling to create coves (phew!). I know of HDMR panels, transparent concrete, cheaper alternatives to stone, and that a dishwasher should be placed up high next to the crockery shelf. Interior design seems so natural that I have started questioning my career choice.
Music streaming apps magically play songs I am in the mood for. They play an old favourite or something completely new, setting me off on a serendipitous musical adventure. Alternatively, when I am in a soppy mood, the algorithm would offer a collection of low-key songs “intelligently” curated for me.
Placid Internet 2.0 pushes algorithm-driven content with neither startle nor wonder, not far from anything that I have been looking at. Come to think of it, the algorithm has so stumbled over itself that it is showing me the same rather than similar content.
I get used-car recommendations daily because I left my phone with a reel playing on repeat while I answered the door; the one my new driver son sent me as motivation. Photography tips fill my feed because I dwelt on a photography reel three seconds longer than I normally would. Then there is that random search. Something you looked up for a friend and you are sent off on a different thread ad nauseam.
Browsing through trusty magazines, I came across the newfound popularity for designer socks with sandals; Margaret Cavendish, probably the first science fiction writer, poet and natural philosopher, who I meet for the first time despite my engagement with literature for over two decades; and contemporary storytellers who track the devil that dwells in electricity or the scarecrow that runs across the field when everyone is asleep.
Reading through an assortment not dictated by my previous ‘viewing’ or ‘search’ history was exhilarating. This is why it worries me when I hear of an impending print media apocalypse.
I spoke to my class (yet again) about how beneficial it would be to take a break from social media to actually browse through a magazine or anything curated, to cultivate taste. Exploring ’God’s plenty’, layering character with nuance. I told them how I bought a magazine last week; how I cooked zucchini rolls and beetroot tzatziki from a recipe in it rather than the saved reels that I never go back to; and how I almost wore socks with my sandals to college, not so much to keep with the trend than to soothe my cracked heels. My students laughed but I hope they take my exhortation seriously.
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