On Getting Bored with the Internet

Something has been gnawing at me the last couple weeks.

For years, I’ve followed Tim Challies’ website. I really enjoy his “A La Carte” posts, in which he shares articles from around the internet that he’s read and appreciated. Usually when I check out his “A La Carte” posts, I find at least a couple articles that interest me as well. Lately, however, I haven’t been able to find any. I’ve increasingly felt like I’ve read them all before, even though they’re labeled ‘new.’

The internet, in general, doesn’t seem to be holding my attention like it used to (except Facebook, which drives me crazy). I’ve seen it all before, read it all before, been affected by it all before, applied it all before. Something seems to be missing, for me, in all the words people are writing out into the world.

A longing to read older writers has also been weighing on my mind. And, as I write this sentence, I realize that I have been. I started listening to The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas on audiobook about three weeks ago. The book is over 46 hours long, and I’ve listened to about 15 hours. According to my Libby app, I have 32: 17: 34 to go. Dumas’s language is rich and beautiful, and the book is layered with stories. It can be hard to keep track of all the places and characters, but this only serves to ensure my continued concentration.

We’re also listening to The Lord of the Rings as a family. We have discs for the recording, so I’m not sure how many hours in we are, but the fellowship just entered the woods of Lothlorien (we are in book two). The more I listen, the more I believe that J.R.R. Tolkien was a genius. He created a world with it’s own lore, culture, and language. How incredible. Tolkien conveys so much about his characters through their dialogue. Their words are few, but meaningful. As someone who likes to write stories, I’m in awe at this skill in particular. How does he do it? Someday, maybe, I’ll figure it out.

I’m beginning to wonder if part of the reason everything seems the same to me on the internet these days is because of our culture’s use of language. In both The Lord of the Rings and The Count of Monte Cristo, the authors use perhaps more words than they need to. Tolkien especially takes the time to describe, in great detail, every new place the fellowship visits. I love this about Tolkien, although I know some people find it frustrating. Maybe it would have been better, or more modern, if he had simply written, “They visited an ancient underground city,” instead of making the reader feel like he or she is actually in Moria. Dumas fills his main story with other stories and sometimes even stories within those other stories. This would be an easy problem to remedy. Instead of taking two entire chapters to explain how Luigi Vampa became a brigand terrorizing the countryside of Rome, Dumas could have simply mentioned, “Luigi Vampa was a bad guy.” Why tell the full story if it’s not necessary to the main plot of the book? Why describe so many places in such vivid expression?

A few years ago, I wrote an article for a popular website. They liked my article and wanted to publish it, but with a few changes. The editor removed every single simile I had used, and I had used those similes to help the reader understand how I was feeling. They were extra words, to be sure, and words some editors might deem unnecessary, but they added something to the article. I eventually stopped reading articles on this website because, despite the fact that they were on different topics and written by different people, they all sounded like the same. It seemed to me like their editors had done all they could to eliminate each author’s unique voice.

I think it’s possible that this is what’s been gnawing at me. Tim Challies posts articles on a variety of topics by a variety of authors, but they all use such a similar voice that I don’t believe they have anything new to offer me. (I still read and enjoy the articles Tim Challies himself writes.) Likewise, the few writers I still follow do have unique writing styles and voices. Some of my favorties are Anne Kennedy, Samuel James, and Carl Trueman; Kennedy writes about whatever she’s thinking and reading about, James writes about culture and technology, and Trueman writes about history and theology. All three of these writers have helpful insights and a good command of the way they use language. They don’t sound alike at all in their tone, nor do they write about what everyone else is writing about. Their articles help me see the world more clearly, even though they’re just writing about what interests them.

And this goes back to my questions above. Why tell a full story within a greater story even though it isn’t necessary? Because it adds a sense of wonder to the story and helps fill out the world in which the story takes place, even if that world is our own. We can’t know everything about everywhere all at once. I think I can give the same answer for Tolkien. Why describe people and places in such vivid detail? To add to the wonder of the story and to help fill out the world in which the story takes place–in this case, a world of Tolkien’s own creation.

In our current culture, we’re so focused on what is immediately useful and relevant. Good stories, like those written by Tolkien and Dumas, are not immediately useful or relevant. They’re more than entertainment or an escape from reality. Good stories take time to steep inside of our hearts and minds. They help us grow and they teach us transcendent truths about the world God made, but this doesn’t happen overnight. I hope that in our modern time, we can reclaim this love of long stories and grand places, tugging at our consciences to live fully where we are and not to simply scratch the surface of the world around us.

Photo: Laura Ohlman on Unsplash