The quote was unattributed in this new book, by design, as the slim black volume fancied itself a puzzle box. The quote took up most of a spread. Some words were rendered in roman, others in italics. Font size varied excitingly. “What was known,” the quote went, “spun round like a record, the awareness of the average mind dropped like a stylus on its surface, producing the pleasing sound of familiarity. Hits, for all. The chart charts the movements of the songs, but also our movements toward them. Fifty million can’t be wrong. What was not grasped as well any longer—the forgotten, the recondite, the complex—was directed centrifugally off the platter, past the edge of recognition, into the far-flung, where it could be apprehended only by self-styled connoisseur or collector. There it obtained a magic power that consisted mainly in being known best for once being better known.” He snapped the book shut and realized that he could not remember who had written that paragraph, though he once spoke the author’s name nearly as often as his own.
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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