Bad News for Novelists?

In his new book The Shallows, Nick Carr argues that "in the choices we have made, consciously or not, about how we use our computers, we have rejected the intellectual tradition of solitary, single-minded concentration, the ethic that the book bestowed on us." Carr believes that our increasing reliance on digital technology is eroding our capacity for contemplative thought. He elaborates on this alarming idea in an interview over at The Atlantic

What sets the Internet apart from radio and television—earlier mass media—is that the Net doesn't just process sound and video. It processes text. I think it's fair to say that the written word is extremely important to our intellectual lives and our culture. Until recently text was distributed through the printed page, which encouraged immersion in a single narrative or argument. With the Net, text becomes something that can be broadcast electronically the way sound and pictures can be. So you begin to see the same habits of thought: distracted, hurried, and (I would argue) superficial. What we're seeing is a revolution in textual media. 

Since immersion in a single narrative is pretty much the textbook definition of reading a novel, this doesn't augur well for people in my line of work.

Lost Fawn

Here's a bittersweet story that highlights some of the unusual (and occasionally melancholy) responsibilities of the Maine Warden Service. Travis Barrett from Inland Tracks has the details:

Essentially, a group of contractors were working near Bangor last Friday when they found a deer fawn that didn’t want to leave the danger-zone of a highway. Not far from the fawn, the workers found the fawn’s mother — which had been killed in an apparent collision with a car. The men contacted Warden Jim Fahey, brought the fawn with them (inside their truck!) to IF&W headquarters in Bangor, and Warden Eric Rudolph collected the fawn and drove it to a rehabilitation center in Mount Desert Island.

Here's hoping the fawn can be released into the wild again, ideally in a place with fewer roads.

Maine Lingo: Dressing

Another in my occasional series of Down East colloquialisms:

DRESSING: Manure spread as fertilizer on agricultural fields. As in, "Those people who just  moved in next door called to complain about the smell of my dressing, and I said, "Then why the hell did you buy a house beside an organic farm? What did you think we spread out there—Miracle-Gro?"

Rockport Reading

My friends at the Rockport Public Library hosted me for a reception, reading, and book signing this afternoon. It's was a low-key affair. Just a small group of local book lovers who wanted to celebrate the publication of my first novel with me. I suppose I could have hoped for a bigger crowd or more book sales, but I felt nothing but gratitude for the experience of sharing The Poacher's Son with such an interested audience in such a warm and familiar setting. I'm not one for quoting proverbs, but it really is better to want what you have than to have what you want.