Book bloggers don’t hang out in the edgiest corners of the Internet, nor do we use the latest, fanciest technology. We don’t embed video or upload MP3s. We read books, we post our thoughts, we swap galleys with loose pages and paperbacks with broken spines. We flaunt our passions-for Thomas Pynchon, for Nora Roberts, for John Updike, for Stephen King.But what we, the nerdiest of the nerds, lack in panache we make up for in community. Apart from reading, there’s nothing a reader likes more than to talk with another reader about a book that both have read. We engage in crazy group activities like challenges to read long books, or old books, or books by authors we’ve never heard of, and sign up for a 24-hour Read-a-Thon.We lost one of our own this week, a blogger named Dewey at The Hidden Side of a Leaf. I never met her in person, though we emailed a few times when I guest hosted a Bookworms Carnival. She commented a few times on my blog, and I on hers.Dewey passed away last week, having been sick and in pain for quite some time. None of us knew this about her. We knew her as an ebullient cheerleader for reading, with seemingly endless energy for coming up with ways for us to transcend geography and read together. I heard the news on Google Reader via a post by Dewey’s husband to her blog, and even now, a few days later, it’s still hitting me. How can a blogger be gone, just like that?I’ve been involved over the years in a number of conversations about whether or not things like Internet forums, or comments sections, or mailing lists can constitute community. I’ve always been inclined to think they’re missing some ineffable factor, the way that God comes in and moves among His children, whether they acknowledge him or not. The time we spend online is just a diversion. The Kingdom can’t be reduced to ones and zeroes.
But everyone who’s blogging about Dewey is talking about one thing – community. She helped build something that’s going to stand even though she’s gone. I have to believe that God can move in cyberspace as surely as He moves on the streets where I live. So I want to thank Dewey for creating a space for us to acknowledge the ties that bind us together, and I pray that God will show me where I’ll find the work He’s created for me.
