connection for convenience
Santini series / Manuel Grazia / 2025
Before I get into stuff, we’ve got another great interview at the bottom of this little newsletter. Vincent Chu is the author of Nice Places (his second book). I loved his first collection of short stories (Like A Champion) and loved the insights he shared about writing when you have a young kid. And by love I mean, “am fully living the experience on a daily basis.” Scroll down for that.
Hey.
Where it feels like I should be writing about the oncoming storm of the holidays, I’m not ready for that yet. Instead, thoughts on, you know, other things:
There’s this new, weirdly gendered characterization of the “physical media guy” that’s floating around. This idea that men of a certain age (cough cough mid-40s cough cough) are reliving their pasts by tossing a ton of money at “physical media” like Blu-Rays, records, books, etc. I am a man of that certain age and a human being who has spent countless hours over the last two weeks agonizing over new speakers for a record player and if I do buy a bunch of Blu-Rays where could I put a shelf to discreetly hide them from guests. And though part of my yet unfulfilled urge to own stuff is a product of me loving stuff, it also feels important as a the dad of a young kid, to do so. Sure, call it rationalization so I can blow hundreds of dollars on records and Blu-Rays, but hear me out: We live in a world where more and more things don’t exist. We don’t do anything but press some buttons and the entire universe of available content is right there waiting. From the perspective of a person who grew up with brick-sized remotes and car-sized boomboxes, this is a convenience. Work had to be done to see things, read things, hear things before and not having to do that work is, relatively, nice. But, the kid is two and a half, and very well could go through life never needing to put a disc in a machine, or a needle on a record, or even a hand on a book. And maybe this sounds great, but to me it sounds like a pathway to a world where we don’t need to experience anything. We don’t need to touch a tree or pet a cat or say hello to another living, breathing human being, because all of that is, to some other, far lesser degree, available at the click of a button. The future is always coming and the future is always screaming about doing less, touching less, interacting less. The kid isn’t old enough to put a record on a player, or to flip through a menu on a DVD, but he’s old enough to understand that when he sees me do it that I’m actively engaging with something that has weight and texture; something that actually exists. And, even to me, it doesn’t seem like much, but it feels like a foothold in the real, a way of giving the kid an early education in the wonder of actual experience. Flipping a record is a first step to ogling the back of a record sleeve and that’s an easy segue to wondering what this band might sound like live. It is, again, not much, but more and more we only have the small things to remind us what being human is.
In more recent spells of unemployment, as I’ve voluntarily lowered myself into the dehumanizing trenches of the modern job search, I’ve thought a lot about how what we do for work adds to the current, society-spanning, human malaise. So many of us now work in professions where the “product” is digital, made of 1s and 0s instead of wood or brick or even plastic. We are investing hours and hours of our days to create something that has no real physical representation outside of the box that it is housed within. We are in fact working to create nothing. And though sure we’ve convinced ourselves that this nothing is actually representative of, well, something, in truth, it isn’t. And in a time when a lot of us work remotely, the entire process of building this “product” can be almost entirely empty of actual interaction. We type words into a screen. We see other people in boxes on that screen. For all intents and purposes we exist in a metaphysical workplace that only hints about being connected to reality. To be frank, it isn’t good. We’ve convinced ourselves (with help from the tech industry) that connection is connection regardless of where it happens. And though I don’t disagree entirely with this, we have traded human connection for convenience, and it feels like in doing so we’ve allowed a slow, somehow acceptable rot, to form at our societal heart. Our jobs don’t create anything, our content comes from nowhere, our connections occur in a place that doesn’t exist—that we live in a time where cruelty is accepted and we fight tooth and nail for just a touch of humanity isn’t just obvious, it’s inevitable.
However you might feel about the holidays and their historical context, getting together with people in a setting that you can touch with your hand is more important than ever. Arguing, laughing, crying, whatever the fuck it is you do when your friends and family gather, do it this year. There doesn’t have to be turkey or mash potatoes. Hell, there doesn’t have to be any family. Just get together with your people, get a board game out, put a record on, and remember what it feels like to actually exist.
Turns out I did talk about the holidays.
what we’re doing
Wellllllll, not a lot currently.
I am, as I’ve said a million times still trying to figure out what this period of creativity looks like. Having a kid is tiring enough, but trying to keep everything else balanced and rolling smoothly along is it’s own daily struggle and put any thought into creative pursuits feels impossible at times. Add in the distractions and dystopian vibes of modern times and it feels like my only option is to just put a few things on hold for a while. Which, honestly, kills me inside, so I try to keep at least one finger on the scale and more often than not, that finger is this newsletter. Which scratches an itch sure, but more so it picks a scab and then everything else I want to do comes pouring out in an overwhelming flow and my only response is to watch it all puddle at the top edge of my sock.
All to say, thanks for reading this newsletter. If you have friends you think might like it, share it with them.
That’s a lot of space for a single little button, so you know it’s important.
what other people are doing
Kitchen Table Reading & Year’s End Party
7PM, December 4th, York Street Collective
I love the Kitchen Table concept (authors and chefs, talkin’) and always amazed at the work done by Paolo Bicchieri, Kevin Dublin, and Lucie Pereria. Eat, drink, talk about important subjects of the day through the lens of food.
in the middle
You Dreamed of Empires / Álvaro Enrigue (trans. Natasha Wimmer)
I am not a big reader of what I think of as “historical fiction” but in reading Álvaro Enrigue’s You Dream of Empires, I’m realizing that “historical fiction” is an identifier of a certain type of book. What Enrigue writes is wilder, steeped in the contemporary but using the ideas of long ago eras to speak to the time we currently live. Also, it’s surprisingly funny. I’m savoring this one. Pulling apart every sentence so I don’t miss a thing.
at the end
The Will of the Many / James Islington
A 620 page fantasy novel that only got going in the last 100 pages. But when it was going, it was running at full speed. The second book is 720 pages and I wonder, “Do I even read the first 600 pages?”
we like songs
Weirdly enough in the gloomiest part of the season, I’ve picked my most upbeat songs.
###
The Talking Heads meets Zamrock. It’s wild.
Here Comes the Sun / Oliver Klaus
Just what you need for a gloomy, family-filled holiday weekend.
Great band. Great album. Absolutely exceptional song. Burning digital grooves in this.
Song for Alicia / Haley Heynderickx & Max Garcia Conover
I will take all the Haley Heynderickx-related records I can get my hands on. Garcia Conover has an early Dylan vibe and Heynderick’s folksy, yet modern, sound plays beautifully with it.
Another step on my tour of “easy listening” from decades gone. Makes me want to grow my hair out and air-dry it.
###
All of the songs we, um, also like here.
Predators: Badlands, d. Dan Trachtenberg
The cinematic, theatrical landscape is (aside from a few high points) pretty sad these days. Sequels, prequels, requels, live-action remakes of existing animation, live action remakes of existing video games—the list goes on, and rarely does the list include anything new. Regardless, even in a sea of IP rehash, there are occasional gems, and the recent two-film slate of Predator releases has been a prime example. These aren’t lore-fueled, fan-fiction, these are interesting, if not popcorn-y, takes on the proto-concepts of these films. Basically, a super killer comes to a planet seeking new prey, and that prey in turn, has to fight back. It’s simple in idea, but it still takes a deft enough hand to make it interesting, and Dan Trachtenberg is that deft hand. Badlands is a solid buddy action flick between a dejected Predator and an optimistic robot with a bunch of big, brutal set pieces. It doesn’t make me think IP is a pathway for high art, but it does confirm that if you make a good movie, it doesn’t matter what the source material is. Recommended.
also watched
Ari Aster does anxiety like no one else. Pair this with a Covid-era, political Western and you’ve got a strange, intoxicating, horrifying brew.
House of Dynamite, d. Kathryn Bigelow
All the stars in the world can’t make this film interesting.
If I could watch only ‘80s British crime films, I would. This is Stamp, Hurt, and young Tim Roth as crooks trying to get over on each other while on a road trip. Wonderful, wonderful flick.
TALKING ABOUT VINCENT CHU
If you’re staycationing in the Bay Area, where are you hanging out?
Bay Farm Island, Golden Gate Park, Japantown
What inspired you to write Nice Places?
My genuine love of travel inspired me to write Nice Places. Travel has meant so much to me, like many, yet is an activity full of contradiction and absurdity. I wanted to write a story that pokes fun at modern travel while being a love letter to it. Specifically, I was inspired by the annoying social posts I’d see from friends about their recent travels that made me wonder -- What is going on here? What is it about travel that makes us act, introspect, and present in these weird ways?
What are the three travel-related books you can recommend?
The Beach, Less, The Sun Also Rises
Where do you write?
My favorite place to write is in bed, but I’ve learned over the years to write on the go, including on my phone. Something about the small screen encourages you to be economical with words.
Do you have writing rituals? What are they?
I try my best to not be ritualistic about writing. This is my trick to help me be more productive and less overwhelmed -- to try to treat writing like an unprecious yard project that I should just work on when I have the time and energy.
How do you find inspiration to write when you just don’t want to do it?
I’ll watch something to get me in the right mood, whether it’s because of the feeling or something about the story. While writing Nice Places, I recall rewatching scenes from Lost in Translation, for example.
How do you maintain writing focus?
I try not to force it if I can. Luckily, ideating, writing sentences, and editing are all such different muscles that when I can’t focus on one, I’ll try switching to another.
What was the last book you read? What led you to it?
One of the last books I read and loved was Sky Daddy by Kate Folk. I’ve always been a big fan of hers, and was first led to her prose via her Tweets years ago.
What are you reading now? Why did you decide to pick it up?
I’m reading The Tenant by Roland Topor. I love the movie and when I learned it was based on a 1960s French novel, I wanted to read it.
What did you read while writing Nice Places?
I read Sayaka Murata during the five years I spent writing Nice Places, including Convenience Store Woman, Earthlings, and Life Ceremony.
What’s next?
My wife and I had our son a few years ago and since then I’ve been in a transitional phase with writing, trying to figure out what writing looks like as a parent. While not writing daily now, I am thinking a lot about the next novel -- which I think still counts as writing.
Hope you all have a little time to yourself these next few days to rest or relax or stuff your face with food.
I’ll take a little from each column.
N