Finished the book

 I finished "A Psalm for the Wild-Built" (the first Monk and Robot book, and sadly I will apparently have to wait until summer of next year for a bound copy of the second - I guess it's out for kindle but I have to read so many things on a screen that I want to read paper books for relaxation).

It was really good. First, from the standpoint of the world - something like our own, but not - more sustainable, with cleaner energy, with people who've cared about restoring the habitat, but at the same time who keep comfort going - so many of those "new sustainable future" images we're given suggest we live much less pleasantly and comfortably and it's nice to see a comfortable world that is also sustainable.

I've already talked a bit about Dex, and about how this is apparently a world where absolutely no one blinks at someone being nonbinary....and yet there's a neat little exchange where Dex meets the robot Mosscap and fundamentally asks what its pronouns are, and the robot is a bit baffled, and Dex presses on - isn't calling a sentient being "it" somehow wrong and offensive? 

And yet, to the robot, it's not, the robot is perfectly comfortable being called "it."

The book is fundamentally a story of trying to find what you're looking for. The reason Dex encounters the robot is that they grew unsatisfied with their life as a tea monk, and so they set off for a sanctuary place they had heard of - knowing full well it was deserted, so I don't know what they expected to find there, but they wanted to see it. And the robot is heading in the other direction - it has been chosen of all the robots in its tribe to go find "what humans want" (and of course the answer to that would be complex, and dependent on the human, and apparently the second book - which I really want to read - goes more into that).

But Dex. Ah, poor Dex. They have what seems to me a nice life - they travel about in a comfortable and self-containted ox-bike trailer (apparently an ox-bike is a vehicle powered by human muscle, but with some kind of power assist - how else could one pull a trailer large enough to feature both a workroom and sleeping quarters?). It's interesting to me to read about Dex' life in the trailer - a thing was making the rounds on Twitter today about "Please, fantasy authors, if you are going to depict a long quest, tell me about what the people ate and drank on it..." (and by extension - how did they live, and what did they do for fun). And I like that, I like imagining how others live. We get to see a bit of Dex cooking, where they cut up onions and have an outdoor cookstove that attaches to the oxbike, and there's also a shower setup that folds out from the outside. 

Oh, I'd dislike a life like that; I have too much need of too much stuff and also I'd not like showering *outside* (though it's also implied that in town, Dex can find hostels to stay in and shower at; the trailer is mainly for living rough on the road between towns. 

But aside from Dex' way-of-life, there is their "career" - they are a tea-monk, which is basically a counselor who dispenses tea to people - and apparently one of their skills is figuring out the best blend. And so they definitely have a meaningful career, a calling really - and yet, as I said, they set off, because they were not satisfied; something felt empty. They mention to Mosscap that they want to do *important* work - that they had been satisfied with making tea for others, that even though it seemed small, it did matter. 

And yet.

"I care about the work my order does, I really do. Every person I talk to, I care. It's not [BS]. I may say the same things over and over again, but that's only because there are only so many words that exist. If I offer to hug somebody, it's because I want to hug them. If I cry with them, it's real. It's not an act. And I know it matters to them, too, because I feel their hugs and tears, too. I believe the things they say to me. It means so much, in the moment. But then I go back to my wagon and I stay full for a little while, and then..." They shook their head with frustration. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me. Why isn't it enough?" Dex looked at the robot. "what am I supposed to do, if not this? What am I, if not this?"

And wow, big mood, as the cool kids used to say. I've felt that regularly this past year and a half. Teaching is different; it's harder to get the fulfillment of it. It feels more....arm's length. Part of it, I am sure, is that I have to spend five freaking minutes at the start of class concentrating on entering the multiple passwords and starting zoom and letting the people in the virtual "waiting room" in and it takes me out of the moment and I also can't talk with the students casually the way I once did. But also, I admit, there's that little gremlin now that sits on my shoulder and asks me, "What if it's all BS?" like that article I linked to earlier this fall.

And I don't know. The robot talks a bit about purpose, and notes that the robots were originally purpose built to work in factories, but when they became aware, they basically said "no, we do not want this purpose" and the humans, instead of enslaving the robots harder, said "okay then" and figured out how to live without using the robots. And so the robots went off....to exist. One, Mosscap notes, spends its life sitting watching stalactites grow.

"So, why then, do you insist on having a purpose for yourself, one which you are desperate to find and miserable without? If you understand that the robots' lack of purpose - our refusal of your purpose - is the crowning mark of our intellectual maturity, why do you put so much energy in seeking the purpose?"

And the robot basically goes on to quote the Desiradata at Dex, to remind them that they have a right to exist, they are part of the world as much as a rabbit or a bee or a tree, and all those things are good FOR themselves (I'm reminded of the quotation, I think from John Muir, about "a rattlesnake is good for itself," meaning that living things don't have to have a purpose that benefits US, or even that we can discern). 

And yeah, I have a friend whose faith is deeper than mine who regularly reminds me I don't have to earn my existence, that's already taken care of, but it is something I struggle with. I'm supposed to be doing stuff! I'm supposed to be doing good in the world! And it distresses me when I feel like I'm not doing ENOUGH, or when things I try seem to miss or seem to not pan out. And I know, I know: why set higher standards for yourself than you do for other people, that suggests you think you're better than them. But I don't know. It does frustrate me when I feel like what I'm doing isn't as good as it formerly was, or when I do feel that creeping emptiness. 

And I admit, Dex doesn't really find the answer - at least not in this book. The book ends with them sitting at a fire the robot learned how to make (after never having done so) and drinking (not-very-good, but that's not the point) tea the robot made for them. And perhaps has a few minutes of peace. Would that we could all find that peace.

Anyway, it's a book I recommend - I can list three books I read this year I'd recommend - this (Becky Chambers is the author), but also Susannah Clarke's "Piranesi," and then Dorothy Sayers' "Gaudy Night." (I read some other, way less memorable, things this past year)