Meat Space

I went to a literary event last week that was very very good. It was crowded and loud and the readings were great and everyone was talking and laughing and hugging and buying books and swapping seats so they could talk to someone else (it was the Devouring Tomorrow launch at Teddy Beer—even if you couldn’t make it, you could still buy a copy and grab a bite of the magic). As we were leaving, I remarked to one of the editors that it felt like an “old-school Toronto reading.” Indeed, not every event in the city used to feel that way, but the best ones often did. You could go to five a month, maybe more if you had the right friends and the right energy, that felt like a friendly literary crush, slightly sweaty, slightly erudite, and definitely worth going even if you weren’t sure who else was because you’d definitely see lots of excellent people. Mark and I met at one such an event, and other than meeting my true love, it wasn’t a very unusual night.

Last week’s launch felt unusual in 2025 but I’m not sure if it was—I’m older now, and no longer have my finger on the pulse of things. I’m married, I’m busy and tired, and I live in North York. I don’t go to as much stuff as I used to. These days, when I go to an event it’s often a little bit empty and quiet, or if it’s crowded it’s because it’s for one particular author and that author has a lot of friends. I never wanted to retreat from literary social life but I suppose that is the nature of elderhood. You have to let the kids take over. And then the pandemic pushed a lot of things online, there was less funding for in-person events, and it seemed so easy to just pop into a zoom and watch the tv show of esteemed literary colleagues.

Sitting at the event last week, revelling in the joy of being surrounded by people I like, I asked some of them about terms for the non-digital world. We agreed that “IRL” is a thing people say. As in “in real life.” I asked about “meat space” but no one had heard that one. As in, our bodies are meat and when we move them around in three dimensions instead of the slick flatness of the internet, we are moving in meat space, with all the other bodies/meat. It’s kind of gross, but effective.

I think it’s an old-old IRC term (IRC means internet relay channel, I believe—a primitive form of texting). I was never even on IRC but some of my friends were and I picked up terminology from them. I could be wrong, but my point is it’s nice to be embodied, and think about being emobdied, and be in a room with other bodies. I’m not a huge hugger—and even less since the pando—but I like the option to hug, or at least pat people on the shoulder occasionally. I like meat space.

Like almost everyone, I get tired and addicted to my couch, and not having to brush my hair, but human beings are almost always worth it, if we put in the effort (and the bus and two subways).

Just a little bonus dialogue…

Shopping trip

RR (locked inside changing room, looking like sad balloon inside ill-fitting bathing suit)
CB (outside changing room, being patient, apparently looking in mirror): You know, these really are nice boots!
RR: I told you they were nice. I said that earlier!
CB: I never think about them. I put them on by the door, I never see myself in them.
RR: They are nice, you look great in them.
CB: Aw, thanks. How’s it going in there?
RR: I think I’m going to do what you’re not supposed to do, I’m going to buy the only one that isn’t absolutely terrible, just to have bought something.
CB: Oh no. Is it comfortable at least?
RR: No it is not.
CB: Cute at all?
RR: No.
CB: Perhaps with a nice broach?
RR: Oh, maybe? Some statement jewellery.
CB: We are in those years. Maybe a big hat?
RR: To swim in? Oh, yeah. I adore you. I do not adore this bathing suit. (exits changing room)
CB: Good, the pink one.
RR: Oh, maybe I’m not going to get it—there’s a stain on it.
CB: Gross, Where?
RR: The crotch. See, these blue smears.
CB: At least it’s blue.
RR: I’m gonna go see if there’s another one in my size, and then turn it in at the desk.
CB: Not put it back on the rack?
RR: Just what everyone wants, a bathing suit with a blue crotch stain. No, I will take it out of circulation.
Random man (snort laughs)
CB: Was he laughing at your joke?
RR: YES! This is an RR high achievement.
(they did not have another one in my size)