Poof

Interestingness and meaning have a strange relationship. On one hand, an interesting thing is a thing whose meaning we want to understand. On the other hand, the pleasure we get from an interesting thing comes mainly from the effort to grasp its meaning, not from actually grasping it. Once we have a satisfying, reliable understanding of a thing, it stops being interesting.

For me, finding something interesting is usually immediately preceded by a "poof" moment, when the tentative meanings I've been applying to it have suddenly exploded into a cloud. The meaning has become, not shapeless, but diffuse, composed of interactions between lots of elements I can no longer keep fixed and separate in my mind. It feels as though the image of something true and important has burned and I'm trying to condense the smoke back into its previous form.

Which means there's both means and motive to explore, discuss, argue, write, think about; the post-facto signs of interestingness.

Comments

[Daniel Ellis]

Interesting. Sorry to see that the only other comment is that of spam.

[Dana]

…what if the spam is actually the ultimate comment on this post? The subject is (or should be) interesting, what Jeffre says makes a lot of sense, and the absence of further discussion (which the tiny accident symbolizes, in a beautiful way) testifies to this: “once we have a satisfying, reliable understanding of a thing, it stops being interesting.” I like this hypothesis: everything falls into place.

…well, not quite everything. What about the part where the post-factum signs of interestingness kick in? And the diffuse sensation that, in spite of the immediate understanding enabled by the post, the subject remains interesting?...

Many times, we settle for a momentarily – satisfying, reliable at that point – understanding of something that blows away painfully constructed scaffolds explaining our worlds. We probably need to quickly snap back and walk around as if we understand how things work.

But if we’re not in a big hurry to fix back all (or most of) the elements, and let the puzzle unfold to remote outposts, there are many instances where bits of sparks – from the most various connections and implications – come back to us, forming a longer tail of understanding. To me, this kind of exploration proves to be exciting: or interesting. Until, of course, I sense the thrill fades away, get bored, or there’s a new blast taking place next to me, demanding my immediate attention.

Staging a blast – interesting. If not already a necessity. I would also promote the post-factum signs of interestingness flickering in the propitious wake of the attention-grabbing bang, to sought-after effects. The possibility of nurturing them could well be a reason for staging the blast in the first place. That is, if we’re not talking about some kind of “blink” business model… and who knows!…

[Gavin Heaton]

One of my favourite-ever books took me almost until the end to love. I resisted its pull. I found it confusing. Oblique. Untameable. But at some point, strangely, the random combination of conflicting narratives all converged. I was speechless. Amazed. I grappled with this interesting book.

But now I am intrigued by it. Even years later, I want to understand how this was achieved. In fact, I find this more interesting than the original story.