Odds

I’ve read a number of stories recently about people texting novels via cell phones, but none are quite as focused (or as entertaining) as Dana Goodyear’s piece “I ♥ Novels” for The New Yorker.

A couple of tiny notes here. As I have said in the past, I sincerely believe language is being reduced to the place where we will be become a) creatures who communicate using minimal vocal expressions–I call it the devolution of language promoted by services like Twitter and cell phones; and b) creatures whose primary means of communication will be visual, reducing the need for the use of abstract symbols codifying abstract thought recorded as words, thanks in large part to services like YouTube and Flickr, and popularized in photo and video blogs. In our brave new world with their infant jabbering and picture books, babies will become kings.

But no matter how we reduce language or the need for it, real humans will always crave storytelling. Whether the tales in question come as 140-character bursts or are bound in 200,000-word tomes, people will seek them out and follow with bated breath until the writer posts “The End.” It’s a part of human nature, and thank God for it. Short form serials are nothing new. Ask Charles Dickens.

I once wrote stories 256-characters at a time and told them to a friend half a world away via AOL messenger. In retrospect, they were some of the better things I’ve written, mainly because, in the moment and with an avid reader awaiting each sentence, I found myself forgetting the mechanics of writing and concentrating instead on telling the story simply and accurately. I have no doubt Japanese Twitter “novelist” Mone’s work is enthralling, provided she follows the same rule of thumb.

I certainly wish her well. When reality assumes the disguise of a grunting, voyeuristic nightmare, the world needs the good storytellers it can get.

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