The Afternoon, and What It Asks of Us.
In which we consider reading as a kind of hospitality, and the page as a room.
Some books are doors and some books are windows. A door you walk through once; a window you return to. I have been thinking lately about which kind of thing a website is — whether, in the way most of them are made, they can be either, or whether they are something else again, something closer to a hallway one passes through on the way somewhere more interesting.
The honest answer is that most of them are hallways, and know it. But a few are rooms, and know that too. This is an essay for the people who would like to make rooms.
Beauty is the harvest of what the attention loves. If we want beauty, we must love what we attend to; if we want truth, we must attend to what we love.
Simone Weil, paraphrased
What a room is for
A room, unlike a hallway, is not for getting anywhere. It is for sitting, for reading, for the conversation that does not have a destination. The best pages on the web are rooms — the ones where someone has clearly swept the floor, set the chair at the right distance from the window, and left a book on the table in case you arrived early.
A hallway-page, by contrast, is designed to be left. Every pixel in it is trying to hand you off to the next pixel. Its headings are captions; its captions are calls-to-action; its articles are introductions to its newsletters; its newsletters advertise its articles. It is not a building, quite; it is the interior of a logistics problem.
Three small mercies
This is not an essay about how the web went wrong. It is an essay about three small things a page can do, today, to be a little more like a room. I will list them and then spend the rest of our afternoon on each:
- Set the measure correctly, and leave it alone.
- Let type do its work, and resist the urge to help.
- Make the quiet parts — the margin, the folio, the rule — mean something.
For later
Compare Bringhurst on the page as "the living room of the printed word" — a phrase I have never improved on, only found occasions for.
We will take them in order, and we will not be in any hurry.