Just a quick note to say I’m running out of Issue 18. If you’d like a copy in print, now’s the time to strike!

In Issue 18: The Time of Your Life, we look at time: how to spend it, what to do with it, how to win it back from The Man. We interview August Lamm who is working to set up her own print magazine and offline community in New York, and Dickon Edwards who is a ‘90s indie heart-throb, dandy and diarist who has barely worked a day in his life. Hero. Heather Delaney writes about her American van life, Jon Ransom escapes jury duty, Steve Light finds freedom in curbing his ambitions, and Robert Wringham (that’s me!) vows to escape death or die trying. We review Jenny Odell’s Saving Time, Albertine Saranzin’s Astragal, and Clare Baglin’s On the Clock. The Idler’s Tom Hodgkinson finds a cheap alternative to the pub, Apala Chowdhury goes dancing, and Journal Club looks into research on work-related deaths.

What an issue. 88 very high-quality pages, none of which has been replicated online.

In the old days (Issue 1-13), we used a print-on-demand system and we’d keep our back issues available indefinitely. The model since Issue 14, however, has involved selling all stock. When they’re gone, they’re gone.

This is fine and all and the reasons for it are sound, but whenever we sell out there’s a lot of people asking “why can’t I get X issue?”

So strike now or forever hold your peace! Issue 19 is coming soon.

Reader D writes:

It creeps up on you.

Despite several years of decluttering, reducing soulless consumer purchases, and making progress toward escaping The Trap, the “Beast of Consumerism” must have appeared from nowhere and compelled my purchase of some expensive fishing gear that I have never truly required, nor will likely ever use. In total, I spent more than enough money for a roundtrip flight to a far-off destination. Sigh. To make matters worse, I missed the refund cut-off.

After a brief period of self-loathing over a couple of pints, I acknowledged this is part of the long-term process of deleting the Consumerism program from my biological software. Errors will inevitably occur. Now, I’m off to list the items on eBay to recover some of my funds. Perhaps I needed this wasteful episode to remind me of that which is more important, like my forthcoming birthday trip to Spain.

Unrelated to the above, please know that I regularly ask my neighbourhood bookshops if they carry New Escapologist (they don’t currently), to which I politely frown when they respond “no, sorry”. My guerrilla marketing strategy on behalf of your publication is well underway.

Let me know if you want to buy some unused fishing gear.

Toodles!

New Escapologist is not a marketplace for your junk, Reader D! But seriously, congratulations on your moment of self-discovery. The price of freedom is constant vigilance against this kind of thing.

I’ve just done a rare “weeding” exercise of my book collection here at Escape Towers. I was a bit ruthless and I now how have about 20 books to sell to a local second-hand bookshop. With the brain work done, all that stands between me and a lighter load is the actual schlep to the bookshop. I’ll make a nice walk of it.

Reduce, reduce, and again I say reduce.

Anything else is just a distraction.

I’m hardly the first person to feel anxious about spending my day doing seemingly arbitrary tasks. So much ink has been spilled on workplace angst that it’s become something of a cottage industry, from the countless pop psychologists hawking ways to Win Friends and Influence People to the nearly equal number of critics of such self-help gurus among thinkers and academics on the left.

Ooh! Ooh! That’s me! I’m all of those things!

The through line of these books is clear—between hustle culture, the gig economy, AI-proselytizing fraudsters and the deregulation-obsessed neoliberals eager to bankroll them, there’s a lot of bullshit in the contemporary American workplace. And yet besides the few remaining infographic warriors who think the point of democratic socialism should be to abolish work altogether, there’s an unspoken defeatist consensus about what options workers have: you can fight to organize your labor, or else give in to the system.

I could never in a quadrillion years be described an “infographic warrior” (I’ve never knowingly made an infographic and I choose flight over a fight every day) but I do think the point of democratic socialism would be to abolish work. Or, rather, abolish for wage slavery. It should make basic dignity into an inalienable human right not dependent on full-time work.

The “unspoken defeatist consensus” meanwhile is something I’ve noticed too and I offer a third way. Escape the system.

I’m frustrated by how these left thinkers seem implicitly to dismiss the possibility of fulfilling work altogether—at least until after we’ve gotten rid of capitalism.

Well, it’s not that fulfilling work can’t be found until after capitalism, but that the most fulfilling work available now takes part fully or partially outside of today’s capitalist structures. I’m thinking about voluntary sector work, charity work, care, certain corners of academia, my own survival-level artistic practice. We can create our own niches. Money doesn’t = “capitalism,” remember. Industry can be organised along socialist or cooperative or other recognised lines.

For those workers not already involved in politics, or for young people who are sympathetic to the cause while simultaneously trying to get a foothold in their economic lives, they offer little guidance about how to approach the bulk of the day, from nine to five. Because even if you spend your evenings trying to change the world, what do you tell yourself to make it through your shift?

writing off the average American worker as either a naïve dupe or an embattled burnout is reductive, an easy intellectual out. It skirts the messier question: Even if the contemporary economy is inherently exploitative, does the left have anything constructive to say about finding meaningful work within it anyway?

I wrote that book. It’s called The Good Life for Wage Slaves. I feel so unseen.

I do wonder why New Escapologist and my spin-off books are so untalked about when (in my opinion and by Martin Dolan’s identification of what’s “missing” on the Bullshit Left) they offer a great deal. I wish I could shout a bit louder sometimes to get noticed, but I don’t want to do the social media time. And it’s not like my sales numbers are in the toilet. People do buy my books.

Anyway, Dolan rates Elizabeth Anderson as a writer who has squared the circle of modern work:

Anderson’s notion of the progressive work ethic might just be more compellingly “countercultural” than yet another broadside against the absurdity of having a job under capitalism. Her ideas channel the structural frustration of the bullshit-jobs left while holding on to the notion that work can be more than a scam or a chore. It grants permission to groan about bad, unfulfilling work without conceding that all work is always bad.

Sounds good. But Anderson also confesses to being Work Ethic-added herself:

I do not only work to live, but live to work. I confess that these dispositions impel me to a poor work/life balance. But they have also rewarded me with meaningful, interesting work, immense autonomy, and honored achievements as well as financial security. Yet I aim to criticize the work ethic for what it has become: an ideological rationalization for the stigmatization and deprivation of the poor, the precarity of the working classes, and the dominion of capital interests over all other interests of humanity.

This absolutely does not make her a hypocrite and it does not compromise what she’s saying. That even she isn’t free is evidence of the Work Ethic’s pervasiveness, its searching tentacles seeking out every uncolonised space. But it does mean she works inside The Trap. She’s a hologram talking to other holograms.

While I don’t want to double down on anything too hard or be closed minded, Escapology really is a workable third way.

Just leave the holodeck. Walk away. I love my “work” just as Anderson does, but it’s only an outcropping — one of several visible fruiting bodies — from a well-designed life.

If I find myself writing for one of my books at 2am, it’s not because I’m an ambitious go-getter or because my identity depends on hard work or because I’m trying to get ahead of other people. It’s just because the muse has struck at a strange hour and, thanks to not having to be up in the morning if I don’t want to be, I can act insanely if I want to. Most of the time, I don’t want to. I just go to bed. Or read a book. Or talk to my wife. Or write to a friend.

*

Escapology. I swear, it’s what’s for dinner. If you don’t have a copy of Escape Everything! you can pre-order the strictly-limited tenth anniversary edition here and buy The Good Life for Wage Slaves here.

Last month, I moved into my new home in the woods. There’s no internet and no phone service here. It’s so productive.

It doesn’t have to be productive, Derek, but go on…

At first I thought I couldn’t move in without internet. But now I prefer it this way.

My thoughts feel more independent. I explore my own ideas deeper before looking for other perspectives.

Now you’re talking.

Derek spends 23 hours a day offline. Think about that for a moment.

It would certainly be an interesting experiment. As ever, I restate my opinion that the Internet is not the problem so long as you escape the shitter side of it, but to escape digital reality to such an extent, I think, would be to choose a radically different sense of consciousness. It would be as worth doing as, say, magic mushrooms, right?

Listen to me. “Radically different.” As if the Internet was always with us.

*

We’re running out of copies of New Escapologist Issue 18. It’s a great piece of offline technology, so get your copy here while stocks last. When it’s gone, it’s gone!

I spent my breaks in the city park across from my office, eating lunch on the wrought-iron benches dedicated to old machine politicians, people-watching. Pedestrians would trickle down the crunchy gravel path in front of me — young migrant families pushing strollers, old drunks on e-bikes, state workers talking loudly into their AirPods. It had only been a few months since I’d started, and yet I already felt alienated from the work I was, supposedly, doing. Here I was, out in the community my office served, surrounded by people whose lives would go on with or without me.

Did you spot the real hero of the story? Correct! It’s the drunk on the e-bike. He doesn’t bother with alienating work to get by!

Oddly, here’s an aside from Cory Doctorow this week on e-bikes:

E-bikes are insanely great technology. Cheap, rugged and reliable, they’re basically bicycles that abolish hills. Once you’ve gotten accustomed to an e-bike – maybe you’ve invested in a folding helmet and a raincoat – you’ll never go back. The advantages of an e-bike commute over a car commute are legion, but my favourite little pleasure is the ability to easily make a stop at a nice coffee shop halfway between home and work, rather than being stuck buying shitty chain coffee near the office.

I’ve never been on an e-bike because my city is small and I walk everywhere and I have no need for speed, but the idea of other people riding them instead of driving cars on the streets I pay for is appealing. It sounds like it could be a nicer life for them too.

Vision of the future: e-bikes with stops for coffee (for workers) or booze (for heroes). I’m starting to feel optimistic about the future again.

*

Change your future with New Escapologist. Issue 18 is available in our shop.

Thanks to Reader C in New Zealand for sending me this remarkable essay at an equally remarkable website (which we’ll come to in a moment) about handcarts.

The essay is about rediscovering the handcart: a push-chair like platform designed for carting things around in an urban environment. It goes on the footpath, not the road and has many sensible things going for it:

Unlike a van or a car, my handcart doesn’t need gasoline, electricity, or batteries, making it entirely independent from energy infrastructures. Neither do I need to pay taxes and insurance. The handcart is a very democratic vehicle. It allows anyone to carry a load wherever they want, while older, less affordable cars and vans are no longer allowed to enter city centers due to the installation of Low Emission Zones.

It is also, of course, slow, which is subversive.

When people ask us why we don’t use it as a bike trailer, we can also answer differently: why the rush? Deciding to travel with the slowest vehicle possible is subversive because it questions values we take for granted in the modern world, such as speed and utility.

To many people, walking a handcart seems like a waste of time, but our experience is exactly the opposite. Every trip is an adventure, and we always look forward to using it again. It’s a pleasure to drive the vehicle, more like steering a boat than driving a land vehicle. It’s easy to chat with other pedestrians, who tend to be very curious about our vehicle. Consequently, the trip takes even longer.

The article gets more and eccentric — and therefore more and more reasonable — as we go along. It ends up talking about the handcart as a place to sleep, a place to work (as a digital nomad), and finally as a way for you to sail along on roller skates.

We could increase the speed of the handcart by using a larger sail, and combining it with roller blades, inline skates, or a skateboard. In that case, the cart would pull the driver in good winds.

This brilliant article, which surely deserves some sort of award, comes from a website called Low-Tech Magazine. “You’ve probably already come across Low-tech Magazine,” says Reader C in her email to me. Whenever someone starts an email that way, it will inevitably be completely new to me!

The website looks into forgotten and analogue technologies and asks if they can still be useful. It rejects the assumption that high-tech is always better. Magnificently, the website’s server is run on solar juice. You can see the panels on the guy’s balcony if you like.

And those images? They’re “dithered,” apparently, which is more energy efficient. I’d say they’re very stylish and interesting to look at as well. They remind me of reading, specifically the Financial Times on paper, which is far lovelier and easy-on-the-eye than conventional Web photography. Every little corner of this website has been considered carefully and robustly engineered. What a find!

*

Don’t forget about New Escapologist though. Issue 18 is available in our shop.

He laments an art gallery pass, which twists the arm of potential art lovers not by pointing out the inherent beauty of paintings but by the hours it’ll statistically add to the end of your life thanks to art’s scientifically-quantified destressing power.

I wonder what advocates of this logic imagine people will do with the extra longevity? Art won’t appeal anymore if it has no inherent value.

I have seen countless other examples of all the things that are good in life being promoted not for their own sake but for the material benefits they bring. This instrumentalisation has become normalised so insidiously that we don’t even notice that it is odd, let alone wrong. Nor do we seem to be aware of quite how pervasive it is. Yet its effects are profound, leading us to lose sight again and again of what is truly of value in life.

I’ve noticed it too. “Listen to birdsong to reduce your stress levels.” How about just “listen to birdsong”? Why wouldn’t you want to listen to birdsong?

Intrinsic human goods include all the things that make life worth living without need of any further justification. To ask of them: “What’s the point?” would be to miss the point. They are the point.

*

There’s a day left on our Kickstarter to get Escape Everything! back into print. Thanks to the 60 people who have pledged so far.

It’s based on a very good academic paper called Car Harm (2024).

*

The Kickstarter has made target (thank you), but will remain open for 10 more days. The new book will probably be an exclusive for bookshops and not available on the site, so this might be your one chance to snaffle it up. Go! Go!