Solitude: A Singular Life in a Crowded World by Michael Harris
The Book in Three Sentences
In the era of smartphones and pocket-sized screens, we post and comment to feel less alone and reassure ourselves that we are quantifiable. A culture of self-tracking has emerged and turned formerly solitary moments into an online commentary. While algorithmically defined notions of your own taste might feel personal, you need to be exposed to challenging new ideas and content to grow.
Memories and Others
Removing ourselves from the presence of others and we feel “indirect or substitutive engagement.” For example, step away from a party and you may think more clearly about the charming person you just met. Or, say goodbye to your mother and you may spend the next five minutes feeling grateful for her attention. (pp37–38)
Memories are not static—they evolve as we evolve. The Talmudic maxim claims, “we don’t see things as the are; we see things as we are.” We can similarly say, “we don’t remember people or events as they were; we remember them as we are.” (p204)
In Praise of Reading
Proust once defined reading as “that fruitful miracle of a communication in the midst of solitude.” (p155)
The constant reader, says Keith Oatley (University of Toronto), learns to hold opinions and ideas that are not their own. We become primed not just to discover new thoughts but to live them, absorb them, care about them. (p157)
Physical, digital, and mental maps
Maps happen at a scale—1:100,000, 1:5000, etc—but what does a map at 1:1 look like? The answer is inside your pocket: it’s a mobile phone with google maps. (p112)
When a mapping system becomes so ubiquitous that we turn to it at the slightest hesitation, it becomes more than an aid. It becomes the enemy of solitude. It insists you will never be lost and you will never slip away. (pp112–113)
When a fumbling tourist unfolds a paper map, they are actually using a symbiosis of two perspectives: allocentric, or “outside the self”—a birds eye view; and egocentric, the view of walking down the street itself. You look up, look down, and look up again and adjust as necessary. The result is a richer understanding of place that evolves from fusing the two perspectives. (p119)
Your mind is constantly retouching its personal map—it maintains a living morphing atlas only you can read. “If you go out in the world with your senses open, you’re going to encode a mental map that’s made with whatever types of information your brain likes to attend to.” (p117)
On the other hand, when using an application like google maps people are able to press a kind of “easy button” to get them there (Amy Lobben, University of Oregon). The entire time they have their head down following a set of instructions. (p119)
Algorithms vs Personal Growth
Algorithmically defined notions of your own taste—amazon suggestions, netflix related content, similar instagram photos—feel personal, but they actually stunt your own growth. Think about this, how can you love something you haven’t experienced yet? You need to be exposed to new, unrelated things to grow. (p107)
In our age of screens, the desire to chart things extends well beyond maps. We comment, we log, and we post in order to tell our nervous selves: I am known, I am quantifiable, I am right here (not lost, never alone). An entire culture of self-tracking has emerged. From fancy coffee to the latest gym routine, we turn formerly solitary moments into an online commentary. (pp126–127)
Be weary of “Platforms”
Paying for the labour of uploading the massive amount of content to Youtube as a platform would make it impossibly expensive. But getting users to perform the labour for free turns a platform into a platinum mine. The users themselves now create the value. (pp25–26)