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A review by patriciau36
Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan
5.0
1 Vote
“Tell me,” Penumbra said, “about a book you love.”
The answer unemployed marketer Clay Jannon gives to this simple question starts a journey of discovery, mystery, and adventure that leads from a dusty, unremarkable San Francisco bookstore to the whitewashed walls of Google to a hidden library beneath New York City.
Clay is at first amused, then intrigued by the strict instructions given him by bookstore owner Mr. Penumbra, paramount of which is do not read any of the books located in the soaring stacks of the store. His curiosity piqued by the odd customers who show up at all hours of the night looking for a new book, and, compounded by the boredom of working the night shift in a 24-hour bookstore, Clay eventually turns to his computer to pass the time. His first inelegant attempt at charting the use of the books turns into an algorithm that predicts use, ultimately helping him solve a part of a larger mystery hidden in the encoded books.
Throw in a romantic love interest in the form of a spunky, eccentric girl genius who works for Google, concern for the suddenly missing Mr. Penumbra, and a wealthy, eccentric best friend, and Clay finds himself winging his way to NYC, where he traces Penumbra to an underground library full of readers devoted to cracking a code devised by a 15th century printer, believed by the First Reader and his followers to be “the key to everything.” What Clay and his friends discover, however, is not immortality, but something much more precious.
On the surface, this is a typical adventure story – the unlikely hero, the smart-than-everyone quirky girl, the eccentric best friend, the quest for knowledge. Underneath, however, there is so much more. In one regard, this is a cautionary tale addressing the current rush to “googlize” everything. What will happen to the way we gather and retain knowledge when everything is in Google? Will we forget how to think in favor of being told?
And on an even deeper level, why do we read? Does the very act of reading set us each on a personal journey? Is our reading connected to something bigger? The First Reader tells his followers: “It is the text that matters, brothers and sisters. Remember this. Everything we need is already here in the text. As long as we have that, and as long as we have our minds, we don’t need anything else.”
An interesting perspective in the print vs. digital debate of 2013. Does the container matter as long as we have the text? Can we separate the physical act of holding a book from the act of reading the text? Do we read print and digital text differently? There is some emerging research that suggests physiological differences in how we retain information read in digital format versus traditional print. How will those differences affect the way we learn and the way we record information?
Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore is, in itself, perhaps an allegory for the shift in how we obtain text. The internet has become our 24-hour bookstore; is there still a place for physical repositories of text?
This is a multi-layered book that begs to be re-read, and I expect that I will find even more to think about the second time through. It’s been awhile since I’ve read a book that resonated quite like this one, and I will be thinking about it for a long time.
“Tell me,” Penumbra said, “about a book you love.”
The answer unemployed marketer Clay Jannon gives to this simple question starts a journey of discovery, mystery, and adventure that leads from a dusty, unremarkable San Francisco bookstore to the whitewashed walls of Google to a hidden library beneath New York City.
Clay is at first amused, then intrigued by the strict instructions given him by bookstore owner Mr. Penumbra, paramount of which is do not read any of the books located in the soaring stacks of the store. His curiosity piqued by the odd customers who show up at all hours of the night looking for a new book, and, compounded by the boredom of working the night shift in a 24-hour bookstore, Clay eventually turns to his computer to pass the time. His first inelegant attempt at charting the use of the books turns into an algorithm that predicts use, ultimately helping him solve a part of a larger mystery hidden in the encoded books.
Throw in a romantic love interest in the form of a spunky, eccentric girl genius who works for Google, concern for the suddenly missing Mr. Penumbra, and a wealthy, eccentric best friend, and Clay finds himself winging his way to NYC, where he traces Penumbra to an underground library full of readers devoted to cracking a code devised by a 15th century printer, believed by the First Reader and his followers to be “the key to everything.” What Clay and his friends discover, however, is not immortality, but something much more precious.
On the surface, this is a typical adventure story – the unlikely hero, the smart-than-everyone quirky girl, the eccentric best friend, the quest for knowledge. Underneath, however, there is so much more. In one regard, this is a cautionary tale addressing the current rush to “googlize” everything. What will happen to the way we gather and retain knowledge when everything is in Google? Will we forget how to think in favor of being told?
And on an even deeper level, why do we read? Does the very act of reading set us each on a personal journey? Is our reading connected to something bigger? The First Reader tells his followers: “It is the text that matters, brothers and sisters. Remember this. Everything we need is already here in the text. As long as we have that, and as long as we have our minds, we don’t need anything else.”
An interesting perspective in the print vs. digital debate of 2013. Does the container matter as long as we have the text? Can we separate the physical act of holding a book from the act of reading the text? Do we read print and digital text differently? There is some emerging research that suggests physiological differences in how we retain information read in digital format versus traditional print. How will those differences affect the way we learn and the way we record information?
Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore is, in itself, perhaps an allegory for the shift in how we obtain text. The internet has become our 24-hour bookstore; is there still a place for physical repositories of text?
This is a multi-layered book that begs to be re-read, and I expect that I will find even more to think about the second time through. It’s been awhile since I’ve read a book that resonated quite like this one, and I will be thinking about it for a long time.