talking about 17776
Heya!
For this... Well, I suppose last months book club, since we moved back the deadline a bit, I wanted to talk about 17776.
So, first of all, 17776 is by far one of my favorite books ever. And part of that is because of how much advantage it takes of the medium that it's being told in. 17776 is told through a website. And it's the only webnovel I'm aware of, that actually takes advantage of that.
What's especially fascinating about the story is that, at least initially, the reader isn't actually meant to know that it is one. It was published one the very real and quite respected sports reporting outlet sbnation, as just another article. Initially that's what it disguises itself as as well, before transporting you into the midst of the story after a bit of scrolling through a mock-article about the future of football.
This just isn't really possible in any other medium. You can't do this via traditional publishing. You can't trick people into thinking that they're not actually reading a story. Nowadays this effect is mostly lost, since people know about 17776, but I still think it's very much reflective with how good this story is at taking advantage of the medium it is told in. You cannot turn 17776 into a traditionally published book. It just isn't possible to do that.
Another example of this is the very first section, the calendar. We initially scroll through this big calendar, where our protagonists dialogue is overlaid onto specific days, to showcase the time passing between them. We see the initial dread of nine as about a year passes between each response to him. 217 days is a long time, but it's kind of hard to visualize. With the calendar, we get to actually see that time elapse. But, that would still be possible in a regular book. You can print a couple pages like that. What's really incredible to me is what comes after. Nine is told they have to wait 27 years, in complete silence. And we get to see it.
As we keep scrolling and scrolling down this incredible long webpage, the scale slowly starts to hit you. As days fly by, the end still nowhere in sight, you start to realize how long that timescale truly is for Nine. And you just... can't really do that, in a traditional publishing medium. You could print out a ton of calendar pages I suppose, but what really sells this is the fact that you do have to scroll. That you're not turning pages. You start off scrolling down the page relatively slowly, underestimating just how long this would take. But as you speed up, and as days start flying by, and it's still not over, and you still have to keep going, and how are we not there yet? It conveys the same sort of panic that I'm sure Nine was feeling once he realized the true extent of just how much time he had to waste, without another living being to communicate with.
Wasted time. That's another thing 17776 deals with. If everyone as immortal, if we've lived tens of thousands of years without any change, any advancement, can you truly waste time still? We've solved all of the problems, time well and truly is no longer a limited resource for anyone living in the world of 17776. And, on one hand 17776 is kind of terrifying. It is a sort of dystopia. Humanity is done. We've given up all hope, we've abandoned all ambition, and the people that are left choose to just play for the end of all eternity. They're kind of... broken, in a way. Human minds aren't meant to do this. Everyone is stuck in the same routine, living out the same day for all eternity, playing the same games.
But, while 17776 does directly address that sort of despair, that's not the whole story. It's, in part, a sort of reflection on John Bois' approach to storytelling as a whole. John Bois often tells stories about the mundane. About stuff that is, in the grand scheme of things, completely meaningless. About stupid forum arguments. About athletes named Bob. About that mattrace company that won't stop sending him spam emails. About slipping on banana peels.
17776 is about those kinds of stories. Because they're the only ones left. We've eliminated all the big stories, the wonder, the discovery. There's nothing out there for us anymore. So, in search of that wonder, it only makes sense to start looking at the small things again.
17776, in-universe is very mundane. Nothing of note really happens, besides Nine waking up and eventually going to sleep. What we see is a glimpse into this world through the lense of the completely banale. We see shitty football, listen to a podcast, hear one guys story about how he's collecting baseballs, that sort of thing. It's completely crazy to us, from an outsiders perspective, but in the context of the world of 17776, nothing that happens is actually at all noteworthy. Even the Centennial Light getting destroyed, the only really lasting event that happens in the story, doesn't really matter. It's a lightbulb. People get over it.
But still, all of this stuff feels like it matters. At least it did to me while i was reading the thing. I was rooting for Jason Durabo to get all the Detmer balls. I wanted Nancy McGunnel to win that absurd football game she was playing.
I wouldn't want to live in the world of 17776. But still, i think there's kind of something beautiful in how that world treats the mundane. There's stories everywhere. Every place you look, you know something's happened there before. And I do think there's something to be found in that.
17776 is an incredible story. It's dystopia, but at the same time... It's comforting, in a way. All hope is lost, but that doesn't mean we've given up. People deal with it. They figure out ways to cope the loss of death, the stagnation of society. Humanity is over, but in the moment... it doesn't feel so much like a bad thing. It's both the worst and the best way we could've gone out. It doesn't end with a bang.