OK, it’s, admittedly, gorgeously produced. And I’m willing to give Stewart some considerable benefit of the doubt, given how primordially foundational his work has been for so much of who and what I am.

But opening it to see an ESR quote, in this day and age, feels greasy and retrograde and gross – not quite as bad as getting some DHH on you, but not far off, either. And it gets worse: I wouldn’t have bought the book in the first place had I known Stewart devotes an entire (brief) section to the design “of” Elon Musk, as if Musk had ever designed anything more elaborate than a stealthy excursion to a Black Sea hair-transplant clinic. That bit is all-but-disqualifying in itself, and tends to make me ashamed to have the book on my shelves.

The deeper issue, though, is Stewart’s narrow definition of “maintenance.” The book feels like it’s sidestepped a whole generation of discourse on the topic, to its detriment. I’ll let you know what I wind up concluding.

(Exploring the particular irony of lauding Musk’s ostensible design genius, in an era when we know his insistence on flush, electronically-actuated handles on Teslas has contributed to the deaths by incineration of multiple victims, is left as an exercise for the reader.)

The infuriating thing about this book is that when it’s good, and on the things it’s good on, it is very good indeed, and lots of fun besides.

It is disqualified completely, however, by its thorough, fatal lack of attention to those inveterate maintainers known as “women,” acknowledged in its pages only on the dedication page (and even then in a way that isn’t anywhere near as charming as Brand presumably intends).

The disqualifying bits are genuinely disqualifying, i.e. I could not in good conscience recommend this book to anyone. It isn’t simply the erasure of women (though boy *howdy* that’d be sufficient), it’s Stewart’s insistence on larding the text with the occasional, entirely gratuitous comment revealing who he’s become or always was.

That said, “Maintenance” is clearly the result of a writer gifted with a lucid, unpretentious prose style addressing a subject that is important, dear to them, and which they’ve thought deeply and carefully about for many, many years.

That’s the tragedy here. We need a book shaped a lot like this one, but this is not it.

@adamgreenfield
The kintsugi-ness of the cover, the disjointed quality of the text, and the fact that Stewart Brand is approximately a zillion years old all point to the probability that Brand gave a lot of collected and vaguely related essays and fragments written over several decades to his editor who endeavored mightily to put it all together into a coherent and saleable form before the author could no longer help market the thing.

@mokafish That is not at all the case, as you’d be able to ascertain for yourself if you’d read the introduction, but more importantly I’d ask you to reflect on what causes you to dismiss Stewart for being “a zillion years old.”

Weigh the text for its faults, and its author for his, certainly. They are prominent enough. But the ageism is ugly.

@adamgreenfield

I don't think it's ageism to note that men of his generation aren't known for their feminist leanings

@mokafish Then say what you mean.