Moving the World

February 16, 2026 — Pat Bertram

A friend and I recently discussed the Walk for Peace and what we thought would happen now that it’s finished and the monks back home. She thinks it will have a lasting effect and will make a big difference to the world.

Me? Not so much. People tend to get caught up in the spirit of the moment, especially big moments, and they hold on to that feeling of peace or commitment or awe or whatever for a while, but then life happens. And keeps happening. And the feeling that they thought would last forever dissipates and eventually gets put away, only to be remembered long afterward as a curiosity. For sure, some people’s lives were changed. Some people will follow through with the daily affirmation that was handed out during the walk: “Today will be my peaceful day.” Some will practice mindfulness as the monks urged, doing only one thing at a time. Some will even set their phones down for a while and just live in the offline moment.

Those things are important. After all, that was the monks’ message and their hope — that people would find inner peace. But will it change the world in the long run? Interestingly, the monks didn’t set out to change the world. They merely set out mindfully on a walking meditation with no announcement, no big production, no online presence. Just twenty monks walking. (Nineteen human and one canine.) That was it. They thought a few people would pause for a moment to watch and perhaps be moved to find their own inner peace, but they had no expectations beyond placing one foot in front of the other.

And yet people found them. Because of the interest, monks who stayed behind set up a map, websites, social sites, made and uploaded videos. The news of the walk spread, and hundreds of thousands of people stopped their lives to stand by the road and watch the monks walk by. Millions all around the world participated vicariously through videos and live streaming. During those months, there was a vast outpouring of kindness, compassion, harmony, love, and hope. All that energy would have to go somewhere since energy can’t be destroyed, so maybe there was enough power generated to move the world.

I keep thinking about a certain episode in The Wheel of Time books. The weather in their world has gone out of whack due to the Dark One’s effort to destroy the world and even humanity. But a couple of the girl heroes (“witches” some call them) have managed to find the ancient, long-lost bowl the sea faring people once used to control the weather, and these heroes as well as the sea people — Windfinders — get together to change the weather back to the way it’s supposed to be, pouring into the bowl huge amounts of the power only they can wield.

Afterward, they collapsed from exhaustion, but there was no immediate discernible difference in the weather. One of the heroes asks belligerently, “All of that, for what? Did we do anything or not?”

‘The Windfinder struggled to her feet. “Do you think Weaving the Winds is like throwing the helm over on a darter?” she demanded contemptuously. “I just moved the rudder on a skimmer with a beam as broad as the world! He will take time to turn, time to know he is supposed to turn. That he must turn. But when he does, not the Father of Storms himself will be able to stand in his way.”’

Is it possible my friend is right and the walk for peace will have this sort of effect? Is it possible peace will ripple through the world, changing things in ways we can’t even imagine? Maybe in ways we can’t discern but are still subtly effective? Despite my rather cynical view of people, I would like to think the walk for peace will make a difference.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

 

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Seeing and Being Seen

February 15, 2026 — Pat Bertram

When I watched the videos of people watching the monks walk for peace, I noticed how many had tears in their eyes. I imagine the in-person experience was overwhelming because just watching videos of those terracotta-robed men walking barefoot or wrapped up against the snow and wind was powerful in itself. But I think it was more than that. I think the watchers felt seen.

I bet many bystanders were surprised by that “seeing,” because after all, they stood, sometimes for hours, simply waiting to see the monks go by, but as the monks passed, the walkers looked at their watchers and the watchers were seen. It worked both ways. The monks themselves admitted they felt witnessed, not simply watched as if they were a parade, and it touched them. Hence, the tears from both the walkers and the watchers.

In the movie Shall We Dance, Beverly Clark (Susan Sarandon) says: “We need a witness to our lives. There’s a billion people on the planet . . . I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things . . . all of it, all of the time, every day. You’re saying ‘Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness.’”

Admittedly, this walk wasn’t a marriage (and a lot of marriages don’t work like Beverly Clark’s anyway). I didn’t mention the quote for the marriage part but for the witnessing part. (Though, in a way, that brief connection between walker and watcher could be construed as a marriage in the sense of a combination of two or more elements, but still, not important to this discussion.)

I think so many of us are hungry to be seen, not simply as a body standing by the side of the road, but as a person, an individual, perhaps as someone who wants to participate in something greater than ourselves. And those wise Buddhist eyes saw. And those bright Buddhist smiles drew everyone into the heart of their mission.

By the time the walkers reached Washington, so much of that “witnessing” aspect of the walk had disappeared. (At least on video. I have no idea what those thousands upon thousands of bystanders experienced.) The crowds were too huge, for one thing, and for another, members of congress showed up, with cops helping them bulldoze their way through the crowd, wanting merely to be seen seeing the monks. (To me, that was the most bizarre part of the whole walk, even more bizarre than the people who followed the monks through several states, heckling them and exhorting them to convert.)

I have a hunch this need to be seen is why the social aspect of the internet is so immense. Or maybe not — too many people hide behind user names and seem more interested in creating havoc than in merely being witnessed, but who knows. It could be why I write this blog, but again, who knows.

What I do know is that for one hundred and twenty days, people saw and were seen, and lives were changed.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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Comeuppance

February 13, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I’ve had a bit of comeuppance. Or maybe a come-down-ance? Been humbled, anyway.

I’d read that screenwriters are told to repeat the plot of a story at least four times during the course of a movie because viewers no longer have the ability to follow a plot all the way through. Not only are they distracted by their phones, but all that scrolling and seeing small snippets of videos, comments, and headlines has made them unable to focus. That lack of focus is also why few people read books — they can’t comprehend what they are reading, can’t keep the story in their head long enough to make sense of it.

This made me feel proud of myself that even at my age I could focus on a story, often being able to read an entire book at a sitting and keep the whole thing in my head. I’m even getting to the point where I can keep the entire four million words of the Wheel of Time books in my head, which is important because of all the foreshadowing. (You can’t tell when something that was foreshadowed happens if you can’t remember the foreshadowing.)

Anyway, lately I’ve spent a lot of time online, following the Buddhist Monks’ Walk for Peace, listening to black conservative commentators (I was interested in seeing what they thought about being told they were too stupid to figure out how to get an ID), following the backlash of the halftime show and its alternative (what I learned is that if you didn’t like either, you’re probably just plain old), and various other things.

And you know what happened? I can no longer focus on reading. I can’t keep even a chapter in my head, let alone an entire book. Can’t sit still without wanting to go check to see what’s going on elsewhere.

I never planned this experiment, never planned to test the theory that online activities shorten one’s attention span, but I sure got a quick result. Luckily, I figured out what the problem is and know an easy solution — spend less time online. But what about people who have lived their entire life practicing what I did for just a few weeks? Can they ever learn to concentrate? Though I suppose what it comes down to is if they even want to. And I doubt they do.

The world has seldom been a comfortable place for me since I’ve never fit into any socio-cultural setting. We didn’t have a television when I was a kid and we weren’t allowed to listen to popular radio stations — my father wanted us to grow up to be different and, well, he got his wish. Hence, growing up I seldom understood the cultural references of my classmates, and since I don’t have television now, I don’t understand today’s cultural references. My preferred music is silence. My preferred activity is reading books. My preferred companions are those who know how to think. So even though I’ve usually been able to find a niche for myself, I never felt as if the world was mine.

And now I know for a fact that the world isn’t mine. I might still have a decade left or possibly even two, but I’m on my way out. The world belongs to younger people. And in their world, maybe being able to focus or keep stories in their heads isn’t an issue.

As for me, I’ve learned that even a bit of misplaced pride can end up being humbling.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

 

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Strange Thoughts

February 10, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I just had a strange thought. There is a great assumption of hate here in this country, but is there really that much hate? If people didn’t keep telling us folks here in the USA to get rid of our hate, would there be any hate amongst us? Would we even think about hate or hating if they didn’t keep pushing that narrative? They tell us that love is stronger than hate, but isn’t even that trite comment making an assumption of hate? (Otherwise, why would anyone think the comparison needs to be made? Saying “Love is strong” would be fine by itself.) Even I, who have no hate in my heart at all (that I know of, anyway), find myself nodding along when people talk about the prevalence of hate. And yet, it seems as if the only people talking about hate are those who have a platform and are determined to have their say, as if they are the arbiter of morality. As if those who are sitting in their gated mansions know the pulse of the rest of us.

But then, today, it’s not just celebrities — athletes, singers, actors, newscasters — with a platform, but anyone who has a phone and some sort of social media account. And the videos that get shown everywhere are people screaming out their anger and hatred. Paradoxically, the screamers don’t think it’s hatred they are spewing; they think it’s . . . I don’t know; some sort of relevancy, perhaps.

The rest of us are going about our lives . . . not hating. Not even thinking about hate. Just living. Being. Enjoying what the day brings — for me, a couple of days ago, it was lunch and grocery shopping with one friend, an easy walk with another, and lots of sunshine. Yesterday it was watering my lawn, enjoying the last warm day before the cold strikes again. And today, well, today has just started. But it will be a peaceful day for me whatever I decide to do.

I’m aware this isn’t any great insight, just a stray thought.

Another stray thought (though this isn’t as “stray” as the first since it obviously came from somewhere, which is the monks walking for peace). There are millions of people all over the world (93 countries, including the USA) watching videos of the walk. The videos show the monks walking, but they also show the people who are witnessing the walk. People of all ages and colors and abilities coming together to participate in a once-in-a-lifetime transformative experience. The vast majority of the hundreds of thousands of people who pause their lives to watch the monks pass or gather to hear them talk, are quiet, respectful, loving and kind. Will people from all those countries see Americans any differently after this? Will they see we are not the hateful folk we are portrayed to be? Or will we all still be affected by the “hate/not hate” rhetoric that so often passes as truth?

Strange thoughts, indeed.

(I hope I’m not breaking any copyright laws by posting the following photo of all the places where people who are following the walk for peace live, but I find it fascinating and wanted to share it.)

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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Choosing Peace

February 8, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Dean Koontz often used a dog as a major character in his books, whether as a naturally superior intelligence, an enhanced intelligence, an alien from another planet, or even as an angel. Those books were not among my favorites because I couldn’t really relate to those dog characters. Although I seldom admit it, because in today’s world not being a dog afficionado is almost a sacrilege, I don’t connect to animals the way other people do. Of course, I don’t connect to many humans, either, but that’s beside the point.

As I’ve been watching dozens and dozens of video clips of the monks on their walk for peace, accompanied by their dog Aloka, I can’t help but think of Koontz. Although his dog characters are always golden retrievers and Aloka is an Indian Pariah dog, a street dog from India, I see a strong correlation between Koontz’s almost-an-angel dogs and Aloka.

In his own way, it seems, Aloka is bringing peace to the multitudes that pause in the strife of their daily lives to watch the monks and their dog pass by. The dog seems as happy and as calm and as peaceful as his companions, just going about his day walking, being mindful of his surroundings. What’s interesting to me, and what is so Koontz-y is that Aloka chose the monks. He started following them in 2022 during a 100+ day peace walk in India. Many other dogs also followed, but Aloka stayed, a quiet companion to the walkers, as if he knew what they were about and wanted to be a part of it.

When the monks decided to make their next walk here in the United States, they brought Aloka with them. And together, they fulfill their mission. No big pronouncements. No noise. Just walk. Be present. Be at peace. Aloka seems to have an additional job or two, showing absolute loyalty, and even though he is recovering from a January surgery, he seems to still take his job as protectant seriously, staying focused and watching over the monks from a support vehicle.

Apparently, some people follow Aloka more than the monks, but that, too, seems part of this incredible journey.

I came late to the walk for peace because I don’t really like videos, and besides, the first videos I saw were of various preachers trying to convert the monks, which seemed . . . inappropriate. But now I’m as mesmerized as everyone else.

Until I gave up consistent blogging, I used to participate in a blog-for-peace project every November 4th. Although I didn’t believe world peace was possible (because whatever the world leaders say, they really don’t want it), I thought it was important to stress that peace starts with us. The monks’ walk (and Aloka’s) reminds me so much of what the peace bloggers wanted — just to show that peace is possible.

And apparently, peace is possible. It is all in our minds, especially when we live in the present moment. Like Aloka, we just have to choose it. My wish for us is the same one the monks have left for us: “May we all find our way back to the present moment.”

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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Balance

February 7, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I got caught in a time warp where I watched videos of the Buddhists walking for peace. I call it a time warp because I thought I was online for just a few minutes, but when I finally looked away, hours had passed, and I had tears in my eyes. The scenes were that mesmerizing and that touching — not just the serene marchers in their distinctive clothing treading on matching flower petals, but the hundreds of thousands of people silently watching them pass by or joining their walk for a while. Oh, there were those who didn’t appreciate what they were seeing and wanted to divert the walkers from their “satanic” path, but from the vast majority, there emanated a feeling of awe, perhaps reverence. A sense of history being made. Even from those who went to see the walkers simply out of curiosity, there was still a great deal of respect for the monks.

It was such a huge disconnect for me because what I’d been seeing online was something completely different. Chaos, screaming, hatred. Crowds that were anything but respectful. In that hostile environment, peace seemed a thousand miles away. Um no. Not seemed. It was literally a thousand miles away since the Buddhists were walking a thousand miles to the south of the chaos.

As I was thinking about these two events, all of a sudden, I didn’t see them as disconnected but as two parts of a balanced whole. This amused me — not the events, of course, but my idea of a balanced whole. Apparently, I’ve spent too much time in the dual cosmology of the Wheel of Time world, where opposing forces work against each other and with each other to create a balance in the world. Light and dark, male and female, good and evil, yin and yang. (It’s no wonder that when these books were made into a television series, the creators of the show changed Jordan’s world to erase the duality, which, considering today’s flexible morality, they ostensibly thought a weakness of the story rather than its very foundation.)

It also showed me something else. In the books, it seems as if “walking in the light” is the default setting; one must expressly go against the light to choose the darkness. Going by the numbers of people I’ve been seeing in the southern videos, it seems as if the default setting in this country is peace, or at least a desire for peace. Lawfulness. A need to get along without major confrontation. Maybe even a need to share something spectacular with one another. (Come to think of it, I’ve always thought peacefulness was our default setting. For example, while some people fudge on traffic laws, most people do follow close enough to the law that traffic flows smoothly without chaos, and the vast majority of drivers arrive at their destination safely. And though it’s long forgotten, the citizens of this country had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the world confrontations the leaders of the first half of the twentieth century got us into.)

Lately, I’ve had to fight a sense of sadness that borders on doom, as if we’re balancing on the brink of . . . something. It’s possible this is a result of my Seasonal Affective Disorder or even my sinus issues (allergies always make me depressed, but not as depressed as allergy medications), but seeing those beautiful monks? Well, to be honest, that made me sad, too, but in a different way, as if the peace they engendered is what life should always be but isn’t.

Still, for today, it was nice to participate in their walk — and its meaning — if only vicariously.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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When Online Friends Disappear

February 2, 2026 — Pat Bertram

For almost twenty years now, I’ve been a quiet presence on the internet. Nothing I’ve posted has ever gone viral, though a few posts have accumulated thousands of views over the years. Most of those, I think, were posts about grief that apparently resonated with people, but for whatever reason, people have found me. Many of the people I met through this blog, as well as through various networking sites, became online friends. Some even became offline friends.

Once I stopped blogging about grief, stopped blogging every day about anything, and stopped participating in places like Facebook (Facebook banned all links to this blog, so I had no real reason to participate since all I had to say, I said here), I didn’t “see” those friends as often, but I did catch a glimpse of them online now and again, so I knew they were well.

Facebook has recently lifted their 7-year ban of this blog, so I have no real reason to continue my boycott, except that the ban pretty much put the kibosh on book sales since most of my buyers came from there, and that’s hard to forgive. I did log in to check on a friend, one who I admired and with whom I had a wonderful visit on my cross-country trip, but he was gone from the site. No record of his ever having been there. It turns out, it wasn’t his choice. Facebook just arbitrarily deleted his account. No reason. No recourse.

I’ve seen a lot of really horrible things posted online over the years, but this author, who I’ve followed almost from the beginning, has never posted anything the least bit controversial. He’d mention books, the ones he wrote and the ones he read. He’d share a joke. He’d write about his research. Oh, any number of interesting, totally benign subjects, and then . . . nothing.

He was understandably angry and mentioned his troubles a couple of times in a blog post, but then he even stopped posting anything on his blog. I emailed him, and when I got no answer, I checked obituaries. (But he wasn’t there, either. Whew!)

Obviously, we weren’t close or otherwise we would have kept in contact more frequently after our visit, but to tell the truth, I lost contact with a lot of people. I settled down, eventually began to live more offline than on, stopped writing. Most of my online friends were people I met through various author groups, some groups of which are now defunct (that’s why so many of us reluctantly migrated to Facebook). When I lost interest in writing novels, I also lost interest in talking about writing, so there went most of my online activity.

If I hadn’t met him in person, I would begin to think this disappeared friend was a figment of the internet, perhaps an avatar of some artificial intelligence, but I know for a fact he existed and that his intelligence was anything but artificial.

I may never know what happened to him, though I hope he is doing well.

Other people I have lost track of occasionally check in here with me, just to say they’re still around, which I appreciate. But then, I suppose that’s the way of the ever-turning wheel of the internet. It spins us together and then whirls us apart.

Though come to think of it, that “apart” part might just be life. Or aging. Many of the friends I’ve made since moving into my house I seldom see. Even a friend who lives a mere two blocks away!

So, for all of you I’ve lost track of, know I am thinking of you and hoping you are well and at peace.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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My First Contact with Computers

January 31, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Write about your first computer.
View all responses

My first computer wasn’t really a computer. It was a Smith Corona Wordsmith 250 electric typewriter with a few computer-like features, such as a 50,000-word dictionary, a small memory where you could type what you wanted before it printed on the page, and being able to change to italics or bold with a shortcut.

By the time I got my first taste of a real computer, a 10-year-old hand-me-down IBM Thinkpad, I had some inkling of what was possible. Still, I was a bit nervous having to learn an entirely new way of writing, especially since I’d heard horror stories of the early days about how hard it was to boot up a computer and getting it all set up. Then I remembered that a vast majority of people who were adept at computer usage were children, or at least children compared to me, and that gave me courage to forge ahead. But there was no problem. I turned on the computer and immediately started typing. (I cheated, though. When I found out I was going to be getting a computer, I got some general usage books from the library and read them.) By that time, so much of the fiddling with setting up a computer was gone and the computer did most of the work, and I took to it immediately. Never had a problem figuring things out. Once I knew the basics of Word, the rest seemed intuitive. I’d also read that there was almost nothing done on a computer that couldn’t be undone, so I was fearless in trying whatever came to mind.

That computer didn’t last long, just long enough to scan my typed manuscripts, edit them, format them according to publishing standards, and start sending them out.

As the Thinkpad started having problems, I asked around to see if any relative had a computer they wanted to get rid of, and one said that he’d see what he could do.

A couple weeks later, UPS delivered a package. I opened that box and completely lost my breath, stunned by what I saw — a brand-new Dell Inspiron. No one had ever given me such a fabulous (and expensive!) gift. The date of receipt is one of those dates I will never forget, it was that important to me.

I wish I could say that Dell computer jumpstarted my career as a published author and made me an instant success, but that wouldn’t be true. What it did start me on was a lifelong relationship with computers and the internet. And with friends all over the world. (I was lucky enough to meet many of them on my various travels, which truly was a thrill!)

One of the first things I did once I was set up with the internet at home was to start this blog. And here I am, eighteen and a half years later. All because of that Inspiron.

And yes, I thanked him — many times, actually, probably to the point of embarrassing him.

I still have that computer, though it is defunct. The battery is worn out, and even if I could get a new battery, I doubt there’s enough power in the machine to run today’s programs. What I have now is another Inspiron, one I gifted to myself, and though it’s developed a couple of idiosyncrasies during its seven years of life, it still does everything I need it to. (The major problem is that doesn’t like being put to sleep — it needs to be rebooted when it’s awakened — and hibernation isn’t a power option, so I have to shut it down every time or just walk away and let it do what it wants.)

And oh, in case you’re wondering, the photo is of the computer I was gifted way back when.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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A Sort of Apology

January 25, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I feel as if I should apologize for all these Wheel of Time posts, and yet, here I still am.

In an effort to find an alternative to posting here, I looked for book discussions, thinking it would be fun to talk about the story, characters, and implications of the various events with other students of the work, but the discussions fell into a few distinct categories:

Discussions during the long years while fans waited for a new book to be published, most centering on where they thought the story was going, and which are now defunct because the series of books is finished and the ending, or at least an ending, is known.

Discussions centered on who loved what character, and how foolish were those who didn’t like said character. That sort of non-discussion gets old, especially if you hold a minority opinion and don’t want to be lambasted.

Discussions about the end of the book, and how wonderful the ending was, or if not how wonderful the ending was, how wonderful the substitute writer was for writing it (ignoring the fact that he got paid, and even more importantly, that the project catapulted him into fantasy superstardom).

None of those discussions fit with anything I wanted to discuss, and anyway, most were many years old. Any newer discussions revolved around the now cancelled television series, and how terrible/wonderful the show was. (Terrible because it turned the story into something completely different from the books, wonderful because . . .  well, because it was the Wheel of Time.)

I tried starting my own discussion, but only got the usual fan-type comments such as “I liked character A, I hated character B.”

I considered resurrecting one of my dormant blogs and doing a chapter-by-chapter discussion, but that didn’t appeal to me. I like the puzzle the books present, and I like that in some ways it is (was?) a cultural phenomenon, with many more millions of words written about the books than were actually in the books (the first book was published right around the time the internet, discussion boards, and social sites were just beginning, and the story happened to be geared to the age group that first embraced the online world). To be honest, I didn’t want to spend that much effort on what is really just a way for me to pass mental time. (Physical time, too, but I like having something to occupy my mind, more than the issues of the day or . . . whatever.) Besides, however much I determine that upon this rereading, for sure, I will read every word, I never do. I find myself skimming or even skipping the characters I find annoying and the parts that include too much torture, both mental and physical.

I make sure, however, that I never skim or skip some of the most lyrical of Jordan’s writing. At one point, a character got lost in thoughts of the past, remembering that “They danced beneath the great crystal dome at the court of Shaemal, when all the world envied Coremanda’s splendor and might.” That’s pretty much all we ever find out about the lost nation of Coremanda, but that one sentence is haunting, conjuring in just a few words a long-forgotten time.

And then there’s a song that the same character remembers from long ago, a song that seems to be a theme of the books (NB: the Aes Sedai are the women power wielders):

Give me your trust, said the Aes Sedai.
On my shoulders I support the sky.
Trust me to know and to do what is best,
And I will take care of the rest.
But trust is the color of a dark seed growing.
Trust is the color of a heart’s blood flowing.
Trust is the color of a soul’s last breath.
Trust is the color of death.

Anyway, that lyricism is beside the point . . . actually, no — it’s not beside the point, it is the point of my rereading the books. It’s just not the point of this blog post and my feeling I should apologize for dumping my thoughts on the books here.

So, if you want an apology, you got it, but it’s not truly an apology because a sincere apology connotes a promise of not repeating the offense, and perhaps unfortunately for you, I will continue posting my thoughts until I’ve finished this reread or until I’ve given up blogging again.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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Uninventing

January 18, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
If you could un-invent something, what would it be?
View all responses

I spent a lot of time thinking about this question because it seems as if there should be things in our lives that need uninventing, but I can’t think of any. There are a lot of things that have far reaching ramifications that I don’t like, such as generative artificial intelligence, but since it’s a direct result of computers and the internet, if it was un-invented, it would simply be reinvented.

There are things I don’t like, of course, but I try to stay away from them. It’s easy enough to do, most of the time. Keep the computer off, put the phone on airplane mode (as I do at night since no one is depending on me, and even if there were, there is nothing I could do about it that late anyway), don’t read books published after 2022 unless I’m familiar with the author.

Even though in some form, artificial intelligence has been around since the 1960s, models for the public like ChatGPT weren’t released until late 2022, and it seems as if the writing world has gobbled up the technology. People like that they can write a book in a day! Yay! Well, yay for them, not for me. I read to connect with the author’s view of the world, to find perhaps more depth to my own world. Connecting with artificial intelligence would not be the same thing at all. I’m sure, with time, generative AI will master even the complexity of human thought and emotions, developing novels that have layers to them, but I’m not interested.

Actually, I’m not interested in most authors who were first published in the past ten or fifteen years. There seems to be an underlying nastiness to so many of them, with unreliable characters lying in their own POV about what they did and about other characters, so the reader doesn’t know and can’t guess how appalling the unreliable character is until the end when you find out they were the bad guy all along. Eek. I don’t know if this is the sort of story new writers prefer or if it’s what editors are looking for, but either way, I don’t like being left with a feeling of squalor, as if there’s a thin film of filth on my soul.

But I am getting away from the point of what I would uninvent — nothing. On the other hand, if I could get rid of some policies, that I would gladly do.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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