It’s Valentine’s Day, so obviously my thoughts turn to the physical-fitness industry and the encroachment of technology on human interactions. Oh yeah, and also about solitude. There was a recent New York Times article about fitness—no, not the one about how lonely rats’ brains don’t work as well after exercise as real sociable rats’ brains do. (And boy have I met my share of sociable rats.) That article did make me wonder: Well, I’m single, but I work out in a gym, so am I avoiding the lonely rat trap? But the article I’m actually referring to questioned the continuing relevance of full-service gyms in the less community-minded world we now live in. “Now everybody’s plugged in,” an industry expert is quoted as saying. “In the 70s, they came for community…. It’s killing the health club.”
The article definitely struck a chord. I’ve been a member of three different gyms in my adult life. At the first two, I truly enjoyed the camaraderie of familiar faces. I built actual lasting friendships. However, on the tour of the new gym I signed up for last spring, I was told that the people were nice, but, the gym wasn’t particularly “social.” Nearly a year later, this seems pretty accurate. Fewer nodding hellos. Fewer locker-room conversations. It’s kind of a drag.
Crazily, the day I read the article, I had a gym experience that seemed straight out of a really bad Twilight Zone episode. I’d previously joked with my great friend Jim (who I’d become friends with at gym #1, actually) about a young woman at the current gym. I’d normally be quite pleased to be on the elliptical next to an attractive young blonde. But this particular woman spoke on the phone for the entire duration of her workout, and it drove me insane. Well, on the day of the article, I was once again on an elliptical machine. And once again, this young woman soon got on the machine next to mine.
I first breathed a sigh of relief as I saw she’d brought headphones. My relief turned to anxiety as she placed a BlackBerry down on the apparatus. She wouldn’t be using that BlackBerry to…? No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than the phone conversation began. And continued. And continued. And continued. Grrr, I thought. I may have actually said “Grrr.” And that’s when the Rod Serling moment happened. I did a slow 180° (not easy on an elliptical; I am very, very fit) to lock eyes with anyone, to share that exasperation with another human. A glance that would say, Right there with ya, brother. But as I surveyed the row of treadmills behind me, I was shocked to realize that every single person had earphones in. I was the only one who could hear her endless chatter, the only one who was being annoyed. It was my own private hell.
But Jack, the reasonable among you might ask, why don’t you just bring your earphones to the gym? Simple. I like to read at the gym. It’s my main opportunity to catch up with the newspaper. I really do most of my reading either at the gym, or waiting for the train, or riding on the train.
Which brings me to my second point. (Those who weren’t expecting a second point may want to pause now for a coffee, smoke, or light snack.) I’ve recently made a habit of looking up and down the train car, checking the ratio of printed materials to e-readers. Though there was a post-holiday digital spike, printed matter still dominates by a wide margin. There is rarely more than one or two Kindles, Nooks, or similar device in any particular train car.
Still, there is always one or two, and that number will grow, and someday I’ll have to buy one of these newfangled gadgets. For most technological innovations, I’m what’s called a “late adopter.” (Cellphone, DVD player, Netflix, iPod, Mad Men, first girlfriend, OK, those last two aren’t technologies, but regardless, I was late to the party each time.) But then I become an enthusiastic user and promoter. The reading transition, however, may prove more difficult. I like the look and feel of a book or a magazine. (Not so much newspapers. Newspapers are gross.) I like fraying bookmarks and their immediate indication of how much more I have to read. I love scanning dusty shelves in cool used book stores in faraway towns. I like tearing out magazine articles, folding them twice, and tucking this rectangle in my back pocket when I don’t want to carry a bag. (Thank you, Joe, for this handy trick.)
Then, this morning in the train car, something else occurred to me. That fellow was reading the Daily News. And that person held a text-heavy magazine. This woman gripped a worn paperback. And then I looked at Kindle Boy. I had no idea what he was reading. And this made me sad. Because I really, really like that weird mix of readers. The bestseller buyers. The textbooks. The puzzle-solvers. The newspaper folders. The matte finish on “literary” works. Etc., etc. I love them all. A cover that catches your eye can spark a conversation or a word of encouragement. I remember struggling through the Icelandic epic Independent People by Halldór Laxness some years back (a gift from an old friend). As I exited a train in Brooklyn, a man told me, “That’s a really good book.” “It’s a bit tough,” I replied, “but… it is really good.” And at that moment I realized that it was good, that I would finish it. Also I’m not above making a snap judgment about someone based on their reading material. That’s kind of fun. And maybe, just maybe, one of these book encounters would lead to romance. Hey, it could happen.
Sure, the e-readers probably spark a lot of conversations right now, but that will die down as they become more common. And finally, ubiquitous. Then everyone will seem like they’re reading the same book, and reading that same book forever.
Does that seem ridiculously depressing to you? Or is it…
just me.
Dear Jack, it is never just you. Y’hear?
“Join a book club, you crank!” Oh wait, I wrote this.
Hey Jack,
I love reading your insights. This reminds me of an article I read for my first year politics module, as I recall it was called ‘Bowling Alone’ and was about the death of social capital in America. The example of bowling was used to highlight a wider phenomenon of less social interaction between members of a community that previously had known each other through community activities such as religious groups, bowling leagues and, as you point out, gyms. At the time the author was pointing out that TV meant that people were becoming more isolated and this has only gotten worse with the abundance of new, isolating technology.
I think you’re right that this is sad, it diminishes the quality of human existence by diminishing the quality of our daily interractions and it can even, as suggested in the ‘Bowling Alone’ article, reduce the effectiveness of democracy. It makes perfect sense that in a world where people don’t know their neighbours and don’t interact with members of their community they will feel less connected to them and be less inclined to consider their welfare when making voting decisions. Even if they do wish to look out for the welfare of their fellow citizens it seems they will be less likely to know what constitutes that welfare.
This problem is certainly not unique to the US, I have mentioned it here only because that is obviously your reference and also happens to be the reference of the paper, but much has been said in recent years about this same problem in Britain, with TV programmes highlighting the fact that there are streets where people who have lived there for decades don’t know who their nieghbours are. It is all very sad and I can only hope that other forms of interraction will arise to take the place of the ones we are losing. One obvious one is the one that has allowed you and I to have meaningful conversations over a number of years without ever having met!
All the best,
Kath
This is fantastic, Jack. Totally insightful, as always. Just the other day I was saying how I’m not ready to give up the look and feel of books:)
I agree. I always loved checking out what everyone else on the train was reading. Love my books, not ready to hand them in for an e-reader anytime soon.
Counterpoint: Last night my son watched the Grammys with a whole bunch of his friends, electronically. They had a big multiuser iChat session where they provided their own real-time commentary. They’re not averse to meeting in person, but there are limits when it’s 10:00 on a school night and you are 13. So I think human communication will endure.
Perhaps you could start an elliptical book club?
You’re so right, Kath, and to your point as well, Frank: The modern electronic world has undoubtedly fostered exciting communication opportunities. I found a great fellow-dB’s-fan friend in Wales, Frank finds partners for rogaining competitions, etc. etc. And the concept of logging on, commenting on others’ comings and goings, can lessen the isolation (though the occasional “oh look how happy they are, i wish that was me” can work in the other direction).
Hadn’t heard of Bowling Alone but it looks like the essay was published in ’95, and expanded into a book in 2000. An update incorporating social networking would be interesting. All I know from a quick Google search is that he’s now rocking an Amish-style mustacheless beard.
I personally can never get over the scent of a library book. And the sound. That crinkly, well-loved sound. Unfortunately, I do not desecrate such books by bringing them to the gymnasium, where sweat may fall upon them. I bring OK! magazine, which should be drenched in sweat, and other substances.
Good words, Jack, good words.