The new serendipity? « Scott Berkun

The new serendipity?

One old argument in the history of tech progress is the tragic loss of a side effect of an old technology, and that it will be lost forever with the new technology. But we can be sentimental about anything, even stupid things, things no one liked before they were on their way out. Thanks to Nick Hornby, we all bemoan the end of mix-tapes on cassettes, something I admit I miss. But does anyone remember rewinding those fuckers? Or when the tape got caught in the tape deck, and you had to pray with a pencil in hand that you can rewind it back inside without breaking it?

The flavor of the internet age version of this retroactive argument involves the limits of web browsing. People who go to malls or bookstores and like it say there’s something magical about how you see unexpected things when you browse in physical stores and that computers, websites and search engines take this wonderful serendipity away. Oh, The Horror.

This recent NYT article, called the digital age is stamping out serendipity, takes the predictable angle that we lose when the old serendipity and sense of chance is taken away from us.

The article offers a wimpy survey of the new kinds of serendipity. He doesn’t mention Hypertext, perhaps the greatest form of chance and change we’ve had in ages. With a single click we move, somewhat blindly, from one website and one point of view to another, and to a new page with dozens of unexpected opinions, images or ideas. There is a kind of gamble in every click. Some kind of surprise lurks on the other side, which explains how easily you can forget what it was you went online to do in the first place. There’s a good argument for the web being too serendipitous.

The sidebars of many blogs are our modern equivalent of shelves, with pictures of books and CDs we like and want to share with people we mostly don’t know.� As I write this within a room surrounded by bookshelves, I know these virtual ones are much smaller and less interesting. The first thing I do in someone’s office or home is look at their books, but I rarely do this online. However for music some folks list what’s currently playing on their i-pod, or the last songs they downloaded, a more random form of endorsement than any static bookshelf, of perhaps mostly unread books, can offer. Twitter can seem near random as non-sequiturs are everywhere, and often tempt with an ambiguous link hidden behind a url-trimmer, and links are often described so poorly they approximate a random jump into hyperspace.

Seredipity is in abundance online. But so is trash. Perhaps these facts are related, I’m not sure.

The more interesting and defensible argument is that the new serendipity is less interesting than the old. This is a matter of taste, as it depends on what kinds of serendipity you like.

Personally, I like physical things. I know my brain and senses are designed to enjoy things in the full three dimensions of a bookstore or outdoor market, whereas computerized serendipity is confined to what can fit inside the 2D of a monitor. There is more for our bodies and minds to enjoy in 3D, end of story. More than anything physical places like urban streets or an interesting shop are filled with real people, and watching, talking to, and flirting with real people while walking around looking at things is, in a passive way, a chance to feel connected to the human race. I can randomly meet a hundred people online or browse a thousand books, but never smell their scent, touch their shoulders or pages, or hold them in my hands, and for books and people I like, that’s much less interesting.

But serendipity, ironically, can be found just about anywhere if you’re looking for it.� You can make an interesting experience boring, or a boring experience interesting, purely through your state of mind and by paying attention.

Damon Darlin, author of the NYT piece, offers this misguided thought:

And there is just too much information. We can have thousands of people sending us suggestions each day � some useful, some not. We have to read them, sort them and act upon them.

Every piece of software can be turned off. Every email deleted. Every mailing list can be abandoned. The choice to feel committed to things people send you is an insane thought, as you might as well religiously read every piece of junk mail that arrives at your door or spend hours talking to telemarketers. If you feel obligated to do anything you didn’t promise, whose responsible? It’s not the technology’s fault, it’s yours.

If you look outside your window, and do it with generous attention, there is ‘too much information’ there too. Every tree has a thousand leaves, every leaf millions of different colored cells, each divided into parts and pools of chemicals and microscopic organisms and natural machines. Open your ears and you’ll hear the calls of animals, or neighbors, looking for food or love. Look to the sky and you’ll see patterns and forms never seen before by your eyes, shifting in endless cycles, never resting, for all time. Look too closely at anything and you can go mad as you realize the infinity of information inside. If anything our brains filter things out – that’s how you survive, or thrive, by knowing what to pay attention to and when.

The real story is most people, most of the time, choose not to see. Choose not to take the road less traveled, whether it’s online or in town. Any lack of serendipity or excitement in life, a complaint people have had in the western world for centuries, falls firmly on our own shoulders and not in the designs of man made things of any age. And of course nothing in this is a binary choice. You can always turn things off, or turn them on, and re-experience the thing you’ve forgotten.� We often overlook the odd, surprising joy of doing something you used to love:� is it how you remember it? Was, like the cassette tape,�it ever as good as you remember to be? Their can be serendipity in returning to things from your own past, and bringing your open mind along for the ride.

Posted Tuesday, September 22nd, 2009 at 10:51 am

in Innovation, philosophy | 13 Comments » |

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Scott Berkun - September 22, 2009 at 2:43 pm #

I was referring to the Robert Frost poem, not Peck’s book ( likely own a copy but haven’t read it). Although apparently I’m one of many who knows the poem by the wrong name. The Frost poem is the Road not Taken, however it seems it’s better known as the road less traveled, since it’s the closing line of the poem.

The road not taken by Robert Frost

Catarino - September 22, 2009 at 4:13 pm #

“Personally, I like physical things. I know my brain and senses are designed to enjoy things in the full three dimensions of a bookstore or outdoor market, (…) There is more for our bodies and minds to enjoy in 3D, end of story.”

Agree. In fact, I have this idea that Amazon or Sony should make an e-reader that could be somewhere in between a real book and their gadgets.

Imagine a device that would resemble an ordinary book, where 50-100 pages are made of electronic “ePaper” with “old” paper feel texture plus the advantages of gadgets like the Kindle: virtual bookshop, subscriptions, etc. U buy every book u want from the eStore and the content is updated on this device. Even �and I specialy like this detail �, the cover. :)

Here you have the old book reading/feeling experience with the advantages of today’s kindle-like features. Not an eBook but a feelBook :)

Might sound dreamy but I think it’s quite feasible. We have the technology already. we just have to attach the strings and sell it with a price tag near its (theoretical) contenders.

Would love to talk with Bezos about this but I’m not that well connected. There is a 66,6 degrees of separation between us, sadly. :)

Gadget making people are so focused in features that they forget about the “experience” of using something.

Neil C. Obremski - September 22, 2009 at 10:12 pm #

Pages of a book remind me of rewinding all those cassettes, or the old VHS tapes I’m in the process of digitizing. There’s a local coffee shop I love to sit in and read my news, books, and blogs on the Kindle and the lazy part of me shudders at the thought of holding open a large tome and lugging it around. On the flip-side, its built-in web browser and “free” internet connection allow for that near-infinite serendipity you attribute with the web.

I don’t have any point, I suppose, except that changing which objects you interact with is just that: a change of objects. I’m holding onto a plastic device, but just like the paper one, it transports my mind somewhere else. It has its own attractive properties and some day when we move on to another way of absorbing and sharing information, I’ll probably miss it too.

Scott Berkun - September 22, 2009 at 10:40 pm #

Neil: good points.

The funny thing is I love paper books. While I resisted at first, this love, now, doesn’t create any objections to the Kindle. It has its advantages. I resisted for awhile, but the more I thought about it the more I concluded what you did. I do think it’s the future, certainly for many people.

For me I’m sure travel is the gateway experience. I travel often and lug books all the time. To have one device to read from makes great sense.

But I do like the feel, the smell, and the touch of printed pages. I figure I always will, but who knows.

Phil Simon - September 23, 2009 at 1:13 am #

Good piece, Scott. While I do agree with Darlin’s point about the abundance of information, you’re right about being able to walk away from any site at any time. I’d argue that the Internet is just a different communication mechanism. There have always been “less than useful” radio stations, books, newspapers, magazines, etc.

Maybe this guy feels that he has to act upon everything but I sure don’t. In fact, I often ignore links sent to me from people without filters–and I’m sure that the same is done to me.

Simon Fairbairn - September 23, 2009 at 5:20 am #

Dude. Awesome.

Technological advances are just tools (not good or bad but thinking makes it so) and anything we love can be saved – check out vinyl record sales:

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/music_blog/2009/06/vinyl-sales-to-hit-another-high-point-in-2009.html

Regarding the information bit – more information than can be digested in a lifetime has always been available to many people for free. Technology has just made it more convenient.

But if you can manage to walk past a public library without getting all sweaty cause you haven’t read all the books, then surely you can learn to do the digital equivalent?

You nailed the difference with this: “You can make an interesting experience boring, or a boring experience interesting, purely through your state of mind and by paying attention.”

Boom! Either complain about all the things you can’t control, or change the things you can. Negative or positive.

Like it a lot. Nice one.

Oliver Ruehl - September 24, 2009 at 5:25 am #

Nice one Scott.

Serendipity. What a cool word.
I’ll use it on my homepage from now on. BAM! (Warning: Horrid site. I’m an artist.)

I just wanted to say that I never had to rewind my tapes very often. I recorded my favorite songs always 5 times in a sequence. Worked.

@Catarino: “Gadget making people are so focused in features that they forget about the �experience� of using something.”
That’s a really good comment.
I’m starting to use my old analog camera again. It just feels good and has a lets say limited set of buttons & features ;-)

Greetings to all,
Oliver

Elemental » Interesting links for September 17th through September 23rd - September 23, 2009 at 5:03 pm

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