“We are always getting away from the present moment. Our mental existence, which are immaterial and have no dimensions, are passing along the Time-Dimension with a uniform velocity from the cradle to the grave.” -H.G. Wells, The Time Machine

During last night’s Storytime With Wil, I unexpectedly noticed something pasted into the back cover of the thirty-five year old book. It was a little slip of paper, one of those ditto runoffs that they used in schools in the 80s, and it told us this book belonged to a kid named Dean, who was in Traverse City Junior High School. It was a child’s drawing of Snoopy, laying on his back, like he does on top of his dog house, only he was on the back of a book which was propped up like an open tent. Along the cover of the book long, skinny letters spelled out R. I. F.

R.I.F is Reading Is Fundamental. R.I.F. is a literacy program that makes a real, meaningful, positive difference in kids’ lives. My school didn’t have R.I.F. (it was a private, religious school, so we didn’t have a lot of the cool public school programs my friends had) but we had our own version of it. We read books, we’d accumulate points, and when we had a certain number of points, we could cash them in for a book of our own. I can’t say for certain, but I’d like to imagine that Dean, in 1981, cashed in some R.I.F points to get this particular copy of The Mystery of Chimney Rock.

I got unexpectedly emotional when I saw this little rectangle of paper, pasted into the back of this book, and I struggled to put my finger on exactly why, until someone in the chat said that it was like a time machine. It’s like someone was reaching through time, and touching my hands. It was this tactile, tangible moment, where I and the 480 or so people who were watching got to make a semi-personal connection with this kid, Dean, who owned and read this book in 1981. I wonder: did he make the same choices we made? How many of the 36 endings did he experience? Did he read it aloud? Did he have friends or siblings who he read with or to? Was he like me? Was he shy and awkward, finding escape and comfort and companionship inside the covers of this book and others like it?

I’ll never know, and I don’t want to know. I just love the mystery, and I love the connection. I love the continuity that exists between someone putting this book into Dean’s hands, thirty-six years ago, and it finding its way into my hands, last night.

So I had this idea to encourage the viewers to donate a book to R.I.F., either by purchasing one from their wishlist, or maybe by donating a book from their personal collection to a library, or a school. I just thought it would be cool to take the joy that I (and presumably some of the viewers) indirectly got from this R.I.F. program, and spread it around a little bit. Because the world is overflowing with sadness and despair right now, and we could maybe chip away at it, just a little bit.

I’d love it if you’d do something to promote literacy in your community, or make it possible to give books to some kids who don’t have the privilege and good fortune we have. We have no idea how we can touch and affect and change a life through a simple act of anonymous kindness, but maybe in thirty-six years, someone will pick up a book that one of us helped put into the hands of a child, and experience the same joy we all experienced last night.

No, it’s not a political post. It’s an audiobook post. But I understand why you may be confused.

My performance of Scalzi’s newest book, The Collapsing Empire, is available today from Audible.

John and I are the same age, grew up in the same area, and have a lot of the same cultural influences. That means that we write and talk in a very similar vernacular. We’re also very good friends, so I’ve heard John talk a whole bunch, and I’ve also heard him read his own work a whole bunch. Put those things together, and what you get is a pretty great team, if I do say so myself.

I’ve been fortunate enough to perform a lot of Scalzi’s books, include Fuzzy Nation, and Redshirts. I love John’s writing, and it’s a joy to perform, so when I was asked to do The Collapsing Empire, I was thrilled. I’m super proud of the work we did on this book, and want to publicly thank my director, Gabrielle de Cuir, who has helped me do the very best audiobook work I can do, on this and other books.

But enough about me. Let’s talk about The Collapsing Empire!

Our universe is ruled by physics, and faster-than-light travel is not possible – until the discovery of The Flow, an extradimensional field we can access at certain points in space-time that transports us to other worlds, around other stars.

Humanity flows away from Earth, into space, and in time forgets our home world and creates a new empire, the Interdependency, whose ethos requires that no one human outpost can survive without the others. It’s a hedge against interstellar war – and a system of control for the rulers of the empire.

The Flow is eternal – but it is not static. Just as a river changes course, The Flow changes as well, cutting off worlds from the rest of humanity. When it’s discovered that The Flow is moving, possibly cutting off all human worlds from faster-than-light travel forever, three individuals – a scientist, a starship captain, and the empress of the Interdependency – are in a race against time to discover what, if anything, can be salvaged from an interstellar empire on the brink of collapse.

Here’s my non-spoiler review, from my Goodreads account:

As delightful and easy to read as Scalzi at his best (Redshirts, Old Man’s War), with characters who are going to stay with you whenever you have to put the book down … which you aren’t going to want to do.

I won’t discuss plot, at all, but I will say this much: like all great SF, and like the SF that has become accepted as classic, The Collapsing Empire works as a wonderful SF tale … but it also has important allegory, metaphor, and commentary on some things that are going on right now, for readers who are open to that sort of thing. For those who aren’t, it doesn’t beat you over the head with it, which is a pretty neat trick.

Yep. It’s a great book, and I’m grateful to be part of its life.