John Freeman: Shrinking the World

Written by Elizabeth Welsh

At the beginning of this event, John Freeman, related a story of how, Oscar Wilde, when enquiring about the sales of his recent book, sent a telegraph with a singular symbol “?” Wilde’s publisher replied to this telegram with an equally expressive communication “!” This apt exemplar of the poignancy and effect of the time worn phrase ‘less is more’ is what Freeman advocated and I slurped up greedily at the packed out Sunday afternoon event John Freeman: Shrinking the World.

We live in a “climate of interruption” according to Freeman, a world which overwhelms us and shatters our attention span. As a book reviewer, Freeman recognised his own impending dependence on email and the resulting deficiency of time for him to read and review books. This planted the kernel of thought, the nagging suspicion that he too had begun to possess an “electronic fidget”. He admits that this novel was not part of any master plan; “indeed”, he cheekily quipped, “no one goes to University to write the great American email book”. No, indeed.

When he decided to write Shrinking the World Freeman resorted to the sanctuary of the New York Public Library, and discovered what he called “a wonderful period of silence”. What seems to be a recurring theme with Freeman is the focus on the twin ingredients of time and silence. These are the essentials for that almost forgotten practise of thinking. In an age when manifestos seem to have become arcane and widely unpopular, Freeman proposed a “Manifesto for the Slow Communication Movement”. Already I was an instant convert. Always quick to crack a joke Freeman presented an apt anecdote of his ninety year old grandfather who continues to walk at an unreasonably fast pace despite the lack of urgency in his life. “Speed matters” Freeman propounded, almost like a mantra and the audience hummed in beautiful union with this new-age aphorism. Freeman advocates the leisurely stroll, something I am guilty of forgoing. The other golden ingredient Freeman drew from his experience in the library was solitude. I revelled in his discussion of the necessity of solitude in creating a work of art. Have we forgotten this, he asked the audience, and we responded like automatons bobbing our heads reverently.

In the first half of the discussion Freeman focused on the ‘tyranny of email’ and invoked historical exemplars of technological advances and how communication has been affected by these. Fascinating though this was, I was waiting for the development of the argument. So our method of communication has changed, what does this tell us? What struck me was Freeman’s comparison with the industrial revolution. As we all know, the construction of the eight to five work day was a response to the industrial revolution. Why, then, Freeman queried rather eloquently, have we neglected to respond to the information revolution? One of the key symptoms of the information overload we experience with the burgeoning methods of technological communication is that the barrier between work and home has been shattered. Who would agree to an eighty hour work week, constantly on call? Freeman asked provocatively. The audience was clearly inwardly berating themselves, myself included. When did we become so transparently connected to a machine without realizing it?

Taking hold of this realisation of our dependence on technology is merely one part of Freeman’s influential book. The ‘cure’ or ‘answer’ is surprisingly achievable, at least for me. I anticipate many Blackberry owners out there shedding a tear, unable to part with their technological toy. I sat smug in my seat knowing that the journey would be much easier for an individual unashamedly detached from technology. In elucidating the cure Freeman drew an analogy between this and a novel, always a sure fire way to steal my attention. Novels construct a form around a dramatic theme. Accordingly, Freeman claims, there has to be a shape to our information rich world. We need a sieve to create a sense of centeredness, so that we do not have to stretch our “empathic bandwidth” further than we can cope to take in all the information we are bombarded with. At this point that I almost felt like I was entering some sort of meditative blissful??? state.

In further considering the ‘sieve’, Freeman discussed an activity that resonates with with my experience as a graduate teaching assistant. He proposed that we need to engage in close acts of attention, words that set my soul singing. He discussed the mediums of painting, and, to my delight, poetry. As a poetry tutor I am consistently disappointed in the lack of desire among students to read the poetry. You can imagine my glee when John launched into this discussion.

Freeman’s personal experience revolves around his enviable occupation as book reviewer turned editor of Granta ( which I read religiously). Freeman asserts that book reviews have slowly disappeared from newspapers and magazines and that this is a symptom of life becoming too fast. When Freeman related the request of an editor to cull an interview with Phillip Roth to four hundred words, the audience cringed visibly. Freeman is a powerful advocate of the book reviewer, insisting that we should have access to critical and academic thought in our daily newspapers and magazines. As Freeman acknowledged, books have a hard enough time remaining visible as it is.

As the hour concluded, Freeman responded to the question ‘what next?’  with the admonition to engage in “an email revolution! Burn all the Blackberries!” My own response would be to imitate the Chicago Sun Times and run a sizeable banner across the front of all of New Zealand’s newspapers and magazines reading “More Book Reviews!” One can only hope.