But Sloan's latest project involved a much older medium: wood pulp. "Getting into fiction was definitely an attempt to make something more durable," he tells me, arriving to our interview in a wrinkled lavender polo. "Right now there is no reason to believe that anything published on the internet will be around in 10 years."
In the novel Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore—with glow in the dark cover!—Sloan's protagonist loses his startup gig and takes a job at a musty San Francisco bookstore. In this zone bereft of iPhones, pop culture, and current events, he discovers a secret society full of cryptic figures and must help crack a puzzle with the help of techie friends and a flirtatious Googler. Bay Area readers will relish the combination of crusty North Beach haunts, Silicon Valley upstarts, and relics of Renaissance publishing as Penumbra challenges their notions of old versus new—and fantasy versus reality. At its heart lies the idea that even the most complex technology is comprised of language, and also that language is perhaps our most durable technology of all.
[Listen to an excerpt from the audio book recording of Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore courtesy of Macmillan Audio. Download the full audio book here.]
I caught up with Sloan in San Francisco's SoMa neighborhood to dish on his D&D failures, life after Twitter, and his current obssession with the early days of movable type.
Mother Jones: You describe yourself as a media inventor. What's that?
Robin Sloan: I think that you get to a certain point on the web when you realize that you can do more than just type into a box or a CMS or write another blog post. You realize the whole screen is essentially elastic. You can write a blog post that comes alive. Or you can make a webpage where the images move around. I made a book review this summer that you literally had to program as you went.
MJ: Do you feel like you've always been an inventor type?
"It turns out Dungeons & Dragons is much better on paper than it is in reality."
RS: If I look into my past, I was definitely into inventors. I was into stories of Edison and Tesla and da Vinci and all these guys making stuff in their garage. Who realized at the time what an important day it was when my dad brought home the Mac Plus when I was like eight or nine? From the day that computer showed up, I was messing around and trying, and mostly failing, to make my own. You can go as far back as fifth grade and you will find me tinkering with media and computers, making things that are a little off the beaten track. It's not just a book report or a video game. It's like some weird combination, and for like 20 years they didn't quite work. And maybe it's only recently that I actually kind of got my act together, or frankly got good enough at it that I could actually make things and put them out for everybody.
MJ: How'd you find your way to San Francisco?
RS: After a fellowship at the Poynter Institute, it was 2004, there were rumors that Al Gore was starting a TV network. Al Gore! TV network! It's gonna use the internet. It's gonna be participatory. For whatever reason I became convinced I had to go work at this place. So through a process of persistence and, I dunno, pestering, I managed to finagle myself a job at Current TV, which didn't even have an office then.
MJ: Your characters in Penumbra have a lovable nerdiness about them, and fantasy plays a big role in the narrative. Did you play a lot of D&D growing up?
RS: I have a couple best friends, one of whom is very much the template for Neel [of Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore] because we became friends over our shared interest in a series of books about dragons. But we used to try to play Dungeons & Dragons all the time, and it turns out it's much better on paper than it is in reality. We would get together in one of our basements and lovingly craft these characters and figure out what they were carrying and what spells they had. But that would take three hours and I don't know if we ever finished a game.
"I loved The Chronicles of Narnia. I loved The Chronicles of Prydain. Basically, 'Chronicles of'—I was in!"
MJ: Did you read a lot of fantasy?
RS: Oh, yeah. In some ways I grew up in the public library in Troy, Michigan.
MJ: What were you favorites?
RS: I liked the sort of YA classics. I loved The Chronicles of Narnia. I loved The Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander, who is amazing. Basically, "Chronicles of"—I was in. But I definitely leapt over to the adult science fiction shelf too and read stuff like Arthur C. Clarke, Isaac Asimov, the Foundation books and basically everything with dragon in the title.
MJ: I meant to look this up, but the Dragon-Song Chronicles in Mr. Penumbra—
RS: It's not real. It was definitely intended as homage to anything and everything with the word "dragon" and "chronicles" in the title, of which there are many candidates.
MJ: Is Clay, your protagonist, based on anyone in particular?
RS: His voice is largely mine. I'd been writing a blog with a friend of mine for six or seven years at the time I started thinking about Penumbra. I had a lot of experience writing first person, trying to get that voice across, so I basically just used that voice for Clay. It seemed more salient in 2009 when I first wrote the short story, but that sense of a young person adrift and kind of getting desperate I thought was interesting. The idea of someone so desperate that they'll do something they'd never imagined doing is just super—like, what great territory! I just remember it was 2009, so it was the jaws of this economic implosion and I remember being very compelled by that image of a perfectly smart, capable person suddenly, like, "Oh wait, what do I do now?" and where does that lead him.
MJ: This phrase that's repeated in the novel—festina lente—what's that all about?
RS: Festina lente should totally be a model for our age. I came across it just reading about the early days of printing and Aldus Manutius—the great printer who of course figures in the plot of my book. It's his motto. I'm sure that you could translate it different ways—but the one I liked best is "make haste slowly." And I just love it cuz it seems like a contradiction, but in fact it's exactly right. It seems to fit our time really well, but I stole it from a guy 500 years old. Oh wait, maybe this isn't new, maybe this is not a new feeling.
MJ: Yeah, I mean they probably felt oversaturated and crazy too.