Tag: lifestyle

2022 in Books

Published by Arthur H. Manners on Saturday, 7 January, 2023

This post is inspired by Kate McKean’s recent newsletter article, which I thought was a great way to visualise, rather than just list, books read last year.

I read 50 books in 2022, which makes me very happy. It’s been a hard year at work and in my personal life, but I’ve still found time for reading. That’s an average of almost a book a week — though I definitely squeezed a final few in there over Christmas to give a satisfying round number.

Genres

58% fiction, 42% non-fiction. I’m not surprised that sci-fi tops the list of fiction, nor by the tie between fantasy, horror and literary fiction. I haven’t done this kind of analysis on previous years, but that pretty much aligns with my gut instinct about my reading tastes. More unusually for me, thriller/crime are >0% — I’m trying to branch out a bit into what is usually a dull genre for me. My guess is that I’m drifting year-on-year from a fiction-dominated appetite to something more balanced.

A closer look at non-fiction

Looking closer at non-fiction, it’s obvious that ‘Craft/Creativity’ was a hot topic for me. These were mostly books about writing or about artists. I’ve enjoyed reading more essays and memoir this year, and my reading list for 2023 is leaning into that. Self-help reading centred around creativity, productivity and introversion/sensitivity.

Book formats

I’m shocked by how few audiobooks I listened to this year. Over the last 10 years I’ve usually had an audiobook on the go most of the time. But this year I’ve been listening to so many podcasts that I haven’t really had time for audiobooks. 24% ebooks sounds about right, though also might be a reduction from previous years. I do tend to mostly read paperbacks, so there’s no surprises here, but there are definitely more hardbacks than I anticipated (lots of these were gifts — if friends/family are reading this, yes please, more hardbacks for my birthday next year).

Minority voices

This analysis is definitely reductive. I haven’t researched people’s identities in detail. In any case, artists shouldn’t have to divulge details of their personal lives to further their careers. I’ve gone with ‘white and/or cis-gender male’ as the easiest questions to answer. A 60/40 split isn’t bad, but it’s not brilliant either. I think it’s better than previous years, but the trend will be clearer if this analysis gets repeated in future years.

Completed vs partial reads

I count books as ‘read’ on my log even if I don’t read them cover to cover. Sometimes books lose momentum or I lose interest, but I still feel that I’ve absorbed the essence of the book. As a rule of thumb, if I get more than halfway, I’ll count it. But it looks like I read 84% of books cover to cover this year. That’s 42 books completed, 8 partial reads.

For reference, here’s the list (see the Book Log for previous years):

The Apollo Murders by Chris Hadfield
Mockingbird by Walter Tevis
Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo
Save the Cat! by Blake Snyder
It Happened in ‘Loontown by Lavie Tidhar (short story)
The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin
H is for Hawk by Helen Macdonald
The Firmament of Time by Loren Eiseley
Siege & Storm by Leigh Bardugo
This Is Water by David Foster Wallace
Man’s Search for Meaning by Victor Frankl
Appropriate by Paisley Rekdal
Why I Write by George Orwell
The King in Yellow by Robert Chambers
The Fisherman by John Langan
The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro
The Reason I Jump by Naoki Higashida
Bullshit Jobs by David Graeber
The Science of Storytelling by Will Storr
Humankind: A Hopeful History by Rutger Bregman
Odyssey by Jack McDevitt
Dark Eden by Chris Beckett
Other Minds by Peter Godfrey-Smith
The Darkest Minds by Alexandra Bracken
Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant
Art Matters by Neil Gaiman and Chris Riddell
1Q84: Book Three by Haruki Murakami
A Short Stay in Hell by Steven L. Peck
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck by Mark Manson
Permission to Screw Up by Kristen Hadeed
Lord of Light by Roger Zelazny
Ruin and Rising by Leigh Bardugo
What It Is by Lynda Barry
The Stormlight Archive: The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson
Acceptance by Jeff VenderMeer
Several Short Sentences About Writing by Verlyn Klinkenborg
Mistborn: Alloy of Law by Brandon Sanderson
Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chiang
Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynn Jones
Refuse to Be Done by Matt Bell
Metazoa by Peter Godfrey-Smith
Creating Short Fiction by Damon Knight
When We Cease to Understand the World by Benjamín Labatut
The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet by Becky Chambers
The Wandering Earth by Cixin Liu
Daily Rituals: Women at Work by Mason Currey
Knots and Crosses by Ian Rankin
Ringworld by Larry Niven
Cauldron by Jack McDevitt
Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Ask for playlists for your birthday

Published by Arthur H. Manners on Sunday, 3 July, 2022

This post is about Kevin Kelly, whom I came across lately after reading somebody’s newsletter. Despite my best efforts, I can’t remember whose newsletter it was. My apologies to the ether for not giving due credit.

Kevin Kelly, co-founder of Wired magazine, has curated a lot of cool odds and ends, hosted on a part of his website called The Technium. When he turned 68, he celebrated by publishing a list of 68 pieces of advice.

He then did 99 pieces of advice another year. The latest is a list of 103 pieces of advice.

Kelly talked about these lists recently, especially his latest, on the Freakonomics podcast. Something he said on the podcast leaped out at me. Paraphrasing, he sums his efforts to avoid getting stuck in a rut as:

Don’t sit in the same chair every day. Avoid getting in a rut. For my birthday, I ask my kids for playlists of what music they’ve been listening to lately.

I love this idea. What could be a better birthday gift than lists of the best music, films, books etc. that the people you love have found lately?

I’m 30 now, that age where people start to become more set in their ways. Is this the way to stay fresh?

Music playlists would be especially good for me. I listen to a lot of music, but I’m one of those people who puts on the radio or auto-compiled Spotify lists, and has no idea which artists they’re listening to.

Books are the obvious ask, but I usually ask for specific books that are on my list. That runs the risk missing out on a lot of stuff I’ve never heard of. Maybe it’d be better to ask people for books they love.

Creative Hiatus for Rest

Published by Arthur H. Manners on Sunday, 29 May, 2022

Bill Hayes put out an article at LitHub in January: The Rest Principle: On the Necessity of Recovery, in Fitness and Writing. Taking a course for personal trainers while researching a book on exercise, the critical value of rest in making gains really hit him.

He talks about a gap in his writing career:

In some cases, it’s not just the writing that needs a breather but the writer, too. After completing my book The Anatomist, I wrote virtually nothing for almost three years. I hadn’t given up writing deliberately, and I cannot pinpoint a particular day when my not-writing period started, any more than one can say the moment when one is overtaken by sleep. It’s only after you wake that you realize how long you were out.

My own experience with writing is similar. Some months, I’ll write four blog posts and fragments of three short stories, and a novel chapter, in a weekend. Other times, I’ll go whole months and barely write a thing.

I spend a lot of time researching how to do less, so that I can accomplish more of what really matters to me. Lately it’s led me to Greg McKeown’s Essentialism, Oliver Burkeman’s Four Thousand Weeks, Tom Hodgkinson’s Being Idle, Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, Cal Newport’s model of Slow Productivity, and Mason Currey’s Daily Rituals. (Full credit and appreciation to Austin Kleon, Matt Bell and Ezra Klein for making me aware of these.)

But, like almost everyone, I’m terrible at putting these ideas into practice. What I really want is time to write. Not to become a successful writer (though that sounds great), but to have the time to actually do the act of writing. There’s probably nothing special in that — it’s just flow state. Everyone has something that gives them that timeless sense of being fully engrossed.

But things get in the way. I wrote and edited four short stories I the first three months of this year. But for the last two months I’ve barely touched a writing project. It’s a brittle practice, sensitive to being crowded out by other things that, at the time, seem more pressing.

The ideal would be to have a robust practice, to organise my life so that the stable equilibrium would be a day with inviolable time and energy with which to focus on my writing projects. A disturbance inevitably arises that knocks me from equilibrium, but I relax back to that stable state.

The question is how to build such a life.

That brings me, long-windedly, to rest. Hayes writes:

Don’t work through the pain; it will only hurt. Give yourself sufficient time to refresh.

I suspect a lot of the stops and starts with my writing ultimately stem from chronic burnout, a lack of patience, and not being connected enough with my body to recognise when to stop and recharge.

Our life has been hectic the last few months, to say the least. Supporting my family through some hard times, working at a tech startup (which inevitably leads to working some nights and weekends), buying a house, my partner changing jobs, and ongoing health issues, have all taken a toll.

Whenever I get a spare few hours, a lull in the storm, I dive for the keyboard. For maybe an hour, I manage to convince myself that I can write an entire novel draft in a week, before life crashes over me again. I can do it, if I just arse-to-chair and force it.

But I’m not sure who wants to read something written by a mind that’s letting off the smell of burnt toast. Sleep deprivation can produce similar symptoms to being drunk, and impair attention, arithmetic ability, episodic memory, and working memory. Long-term burnout is even more insidious, lowering your baseline cognitive performance, so that you’re not only underperforming, but your ability to think about how to fix the problem is also shot.

Having read, Hayes’ article, I’m wondering whether it’s better to make the decision to not create anything for a while. There’s advice everywhere from creators about the discipline of grinding out your work, even if you’re not in the space (see Mason Curey’s Daily Rituals for plenty of examples). It’s about forming the habit, it’s about discipline.

But what’s the advantage of discipline if you’re barely present in the moment, existing on fumes?

This isn’t an announcement of abandoning creative pursuits, but it’s important to note this counterargument on what to do when times are tough. I have a note above my monitor that says “Stop. Breathe.” Hayes is arguing for us to listen to that more often:

My rule of thumb in fitness training is two-to-one: for every two days of intense workouts, a day off. However, “in cases of sustained high-level output,” according to my manual, full recovery may take longer. This is what had happened with me creatively. I needed a really, really long rest.

Austin Kleon interviews Oliver Burkeman

Published by Arthur H. Manners on Saturday, 26 March, 2022

This Monday, Austin Kleon is releasing an interview with Oliver Burkeman. Two of my favourite creative voices in one conversation. Some of the best books I read last year were Kleon’s trio of books, and Burkeman’s recent book Four Thousand Weeks.

One to watch.

I also subscribe to Burkeman’s twice-monthly newsletter The Imperfectionist, which I highly recommend for anyone who enjoyed Four Thousand Weeks.

Mid-Year (ish) 2021 Review

Published by Arthur H. Manners on Sunday, 8 August, 2021

Mid-year has been and gone, but I’ve been busy with completing my thesis and defending it. Having finished feels like a good enough milestone for a mid-year (ish) review of 2021.

*Post-PhD decompression: Sunset at St Agnes, Cornwall*.

If I had to describe the year in a single word, that word would be precipice. The edge before big changes. For the first time in a long time, I don’t know what comes next. Thankfully, after being stuck inside for most of 2020, even being able to walk outside is a revelatory experience. So there’s not much of a bar to beat.

The year to August has been full of small changes, and some big ones:

Completing my doctorate. After 4 year of research, I passed the final oral exam separating me from PhD status. Needless to say, this is the big milestone. A major lifegoal achieved.

Ran my first 6k. I’m almost as pleased about this as the PhD. Just under two years ago, I was told I had a fissured meniscus in my knee from an injury around 4 years before. My knee had grown progressively worse, so that I couldn’t squat my own bodyweight or run at all. Even walking was getting hard. Doctors were telling me I would soon get arthritis and surgery might help, but probably not. However, some great physiotherapy and a simple piece of equipment banished it in under three months. Last week I ran 6k, which would have seemed totally unfeasible before. My aim is 10k by the end of the year.

Restarted this blog. I’ve written in blogs on and off for about 16 years (nothing remains of them except backups on old hard drives). My last one dried up about six years ago, when my degree started to take over my life. Now that I’ve graduated, one of the best things about life is writing this blog — mostly for my future self.

Ran a beta-reading club for a book. It’s a truly lucky thing to know people whom you trust to take the time to read a book you’ve written, and give some tough love in their feedback. Scary but rewarding. It’s totally different to a beta-reading group composed of strangers, because people who know you can infer more subtle things about what you’re trying to do.

Developed a journaling habit. I spoke about this in an earlier post. I’m still finessing a system that works for me, but I’ve made good progress so far. I can’t overstate the value of having a habit that gets thoughts out of my head and into some physical format. I would have said it was a hobbyist’s thing before I tried it; now, I couldn’t go without it.

Consistent meditation and yoga/stretching. I injured my back twice during lockdown, and even months later my muscles were like taut wires. I always thought, in an absent sort of way, that yoga was something that felt nice and technically counted as moving, but didn’t do much for your body. Obviously, I was hopelessly wrong. Twenty minutes of stretching or yoga every morning has totally changed my relationship with exercise — and it’s a similar story with meditation and mental flexibility/strength. Turns out the solution to almost everything is sitting quietly, breathing, stretching and recording thoughts.

Freeing Yourself From Should-Dos

Published by Arthur H. Manners on Sunday, 18 July, 2021

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
– Mary Oliver

‘I want to do X, but I really should do Y.’ That might be the most stupid and unhelpful thought to ever flit through a person’s mind. We collect shoulds like parasites. I should read that book everyone says is worthy. I should start jogging even though I hate it. I should eat more salad so I live longer.

All of the above are examples of self denial, masquerading as attempts at self improvement. As Brianna Wiest says in 101 Essays That Will Change the Way You Think:

Recognize that anxiety stems from shame. It is the idea that who you are or what you are doing is “not right,” therefore eliciting a rush of energy designed to help you “fix” or change it. You’re suffering because there’s nothing you can fix to make that urgent, panicked feeling go away. It’s a mismanaged perception of who and how you are.

Rejecting a Culture of Self Denial

Learning, exercising and eating well are all vital to health. But there are many ways to do these things – and, crucially, a way of doing them that you would enjoy, that would nourish you.

Some people advise finishing all the half-read books on your shelf, to declutter your mind and demonstrate grit. The assumption being that you will inevitably grow if you force yourself to absorb material that doesn’t engage you.

A simpler and better solution is to remove those books from your life. Give them to somebody you suspect will actually enjoy them, or give them to charity. Now there are no books staring at you accusingly when you walk by.

Some of the books on my Books Log are half finished and then ejected; other books never make it to the log because I put them down almost immediately. Rejecting material that does nothing for you is not the same as rejecting material that challenges you.

Minimise the Necessity to Expend Willpower

If you hate salad, never eat it again. Blend some kale into a fruit smoothie and be done with it. If you need to get a nutrient into your body (art included), find a way that demands the least willpower, while minimising collateral damage.

We use these paths of least resistance with fussy children, but not with ourselves. We think we can will ourselves into becoming a person who craves a bag of lettuce for lunch every day. Because only the weak like to eat fries and cake; the strong eat War and Peace.

Here’s a little secret: you don’t actually want to become that joyless lettuce freak, which is why you haven’t become them already. What you actually want is to be you. So allow yourself.

Turning ‘Should-Dos’ into ‘Want-Tos’

Identify things in your life that snag on your mind like thorns. Anything you’ve been putting off or causes low-level chronic stress.
Realise that each of these things are desires or goals, twisted into a cudgel to beat yourself. Brainstorm an activity that you will enjoy that technically satisfies the goal. If it’s fundamentally unenjoyable, like going to the dentist, pair it with a reward.
Try your solution. If it’s not fun enough to make you anticipate the next time, rethink and try again. Keep going until you’ve had fun and look forward to doing it again.
(One day) Realise that enjoying yourself and being engaged and excited are not mutually exclusive from self improvement. You will not grow by contorting yourself into shapes that were never meant for you.