Check It Out -- On Time

a roundup of resources around a single idea

Here are a few things that might be helpful, all about time and how we feel it, live in it, escape it, and ultimately fail to understand it.

17. Mechanism of clock in tower, clock says "E. Howard & Co., Boston." - Cooper Union for the Advancement of Science & Art, Third & Fourth Avenues, Astor Place, Seventh Street, New York County, NY

A Book

As I reread Natalie Hodges’s fantastic memoir Uncommon Measure in preparation for our recent conversation, I was struck again by how much it contains. My brief commentary on it barely touches on that last — but central — bit of the subtitle: “the Science of Time.” Natalie is a brilliant conversationalist, and I look forward to sharing our full talk soon, but for the moment, here’s this from the Natalie’s description of a magical performance she shared with Mateo, a pianist:

we didn’t need to know what would come next because it didn’t matter, whatever happened would be right; that we were free, creating time; indeed, that we didn’t exist in time, but, rather, time lived in us.

I wonder what that means, exactly: for time to live in us. It’s a feeling I have whenever I am playing well — not just getting the notes but really playing just the way I want, or something even when I am simply listening to music — one I cannot shake. It’s a strange feeling, beautiful but also eerie: not only that you can step into time’s flow, but that you are the flow itself.

An Idea

Stop thinking time is measurable. But maybe even if it isn’t, it still could be? See here for more.

[Pendulum or oscillating clock mechanisms, showing escapement mechanism, curved metal strips to check swing of pendulum, and clock with pendulum and weights]

A Conversation

I recently got to speak to Madeleine Thien, author of The Book of Records, and it was such a joy. Maddie has a softness and an intention in her every word, and it made our conversation feel lifted outside of time, ethereal yet grounded in the truth of what we were sharing. Here’s a snippet from my review, and you can read the edited version at the link below:

Thien blurs the lines between history and story to build a Möbius strip of a novel that defies pat summaries. In its opening lines, The Book of Records introduces Lina and points to a specific time and place: "Half a century ago, during the rainy season, when I was seven years old, my father and I reached the Sea." It soon becomes clear, however, that this place--and the time Lina and her father spend there--cannot be easily defined. When Lina's father insists that "the buildings of the Sea are made of time," Lina tries to understand: "I was seven years old. I knew that he was pulling my leg and also that he was being truthful."

A Recommendation

I’ve got a work trip coming up in a few weeks, and instead of flying directly from home to destination, I’m taking advantage of a strategically-placed holiday and a few days of leave to take my time — and see some of my favorite people — along the way. I’ll drive the first leg, stopping in for lunch with one friend and staying several nights with a few others. Then, I’ll park my car and take a train to DC, where one of my oldest and dearest friends lives. After a few days with her, I’ll train¹ again to Philadelphia, where ALA’s Annual Conference will be held at the end of the month. I am so excited about taking the train², something I fell in love with when I studied abroad, and I’m looking forward to a stretch of time that feels expansive, generous, and full of opportunities to connect.

1. I hope my trains are all on time.

2. If you are curious, here’s a bit more about time and trains.