“There
is nothing like looking, if you want to find something (or so Thorin
said to the young dwarves). You certainly usually find something, if
you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.”
– The
Hobbit
In this Internet Age it’s easy to rely on search engines and
lists of recommended product/content generated by computer-driven
algorithms. Unfortunately this limits our exposure to potentially
interesting or inspiring material. Perhaps we could occasionally
venture beyond our cozy, narrowly curated experiences and return to
that pre-internet habit of browsing, wandering through landscapes
likely to cater to our interests in search of something new. You
never know what you’ll find.
Browsing informed my earliest exploration in the realm of fantasy
and science-fiction literature. The summer before my senior year in
high school I immersed myself in novels and short stories thanks to
the independent bookstore in my hometown (Books on the Common,
about which I’ve reminisced before) and a keen bookseller who always made
sure he stocked all the titles in any series engaging my interest. In
the cozy corner near the single bookshelf unit devoted to such
fantastical fare I could browse paperbacks, marvel at cover
illustrations, and take my time perusing beguiling back-cover copy
before deciding which book to purchase for my week’s reading. In
the days before the internet enabled access to a worldwide network of
fans, online bookstores, reviews, and author bibliographies I browsed
that small sci-fi/fantasy section and exposed myself to the wonderful
writings of Niven, Eddings, Moorcock, and others I’d never have
found otherwise.
In college, as a Creative Writing major, I was paging through a
dictionary seeking the meaning of some unknown word...a practice I
don’t hear encouraged as much as in my time, certainly one replaced
with the expediency of surfing over to
Merriam-Webster.com and
looking up words in the search field. As I was paging through “M”
I noticed an interesting guide word. Remember guide words, those
words in the upper corners of the dictionary pages that indicated the
range of alphabetical listings on each page to aid reference?
“Memnon.” I’d never noticed the name before despite a great
interest in myths, science fiction, fantasy, and other fantastical
literature. “Memnon: 1. an ethiopian king killed by Achilles in the
Trojan War and made immortal by Zeus. 2. a gigantic statue of an
Egyptian king at Thebes, said to have emitted a musical sound at
sunrise.” That definition – encountered by sheer chance browsing
through the dictionary – fired my imagination and spurred me to
investigate more about the singing statue, inspired me to wonder
about an archaeologist who might have found the artifact and what he
might have learned from it. My initial explorations formed the basis
of a historical short story for my creative writing fiction class and
later, in an altered form, my first professional short story sale,
“Memnon Revived.” The experience started my long immersion in
both ancient and Victorian Egypt.
I spent many hours in my college’s modern yet labyrinthine
library browsing the stacks, following leads in the card catalog (and
later computerized catalog), and immersing myself in books on
interesting topics I never would have discovered without the fertile
environment for a wandering mind. Sure, I’d hunt down a particular
book that seemed interesting, but after examination would wander to
the left and right on the shelf to see if any other tome offered
information or a new perspective on my chosen topic. That browsing
experience often revealed new resources, an opportunity not easily
replicated by computers or the internet.
Although I don’t always have the patience to wander flea
markets, thrft shops, tag sales, and used book stores, I’m always
delighted when browsing those environments pays off (
a topic I’ve briefly explored before). My past forays into these fields unearthed
such interesting treasures like an old copy of
Tactics II, Red
Storm Rising, and even the old TSR
Sirocco, each worthy of
examination for new gaming ideas. A recent trip to the regional used
bookstore revealed a first-edition copy of Frank Chadwick’s
A
House Divided, an operational-level Civil War game published by
Game Designers’ Workshop. I’d never heard of the game before,
though I know Frank Chadwick’s name from GDW, wargaming, and, of
course,
Space 1889. The box held no mention of it winning the
prestigious Charles S. Roberts Award for best pre-twentieth century
game. To me it just looked like an interesting, fairly simple Civil
War game by a noted designer (the back-of-the-box complexity scale rated it as “introductory,”
right up my alley). Living where I do in central Virginia and having
a natural interest in history, I’ve slowly started delving into
Civil War history in both books and games.
A House Divided
will offer a chance to explore the war on a full scale (though
someday I’d like to acquire
Columbia Games’ Bobby Lee for
an operational-level game focused on Virginia). Had I not browsed the
used bookstore’s board game section, I wouldn’t have discovered
the game and found this engaging opportunity to further explore the
Civil War.
Certainly we can browse the internet, though it’s often a more
curated experience given our interests and those of the people we
follow through blogs and social media. We read websites that engage
us, follow links to blogs those bloggers like, perhaps learning
something new through these shared interest groups. Google+ enables
users to create a curated experience following people who share
similar tastes or joining Communities of people sharing common
interests. Ordering materials from an online venue often brings up a
page of recommendations often based on what others who purchased an
item also ordered. Yes, these help us broaden our horizon and
consider new aspects of our interests to explore; but they’re still
limited in scope.
We need to move beyond our comfort zones, exploring new terrain
relevant to our interests but abundant with new ideas beyond our
established experience. Wander the stacks of your local library to
see if any titles or covers jump out and tempt you. Read a book on
the fringes of your usual subjects. Go to a convention or game store
and find a new game to try. Browsing stimulates our inquisitive
nature and invites us to venture beyond our existing interests and
knowledge.
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