Print Magazines: A Love Letter
Every Thursday afternoon, all through middle and high school, I’d drop my backpack at home after class and then immediately make a line for the mailbox down the street, where The Hockey News and its 80-odd glossy pages of hockey goodness awaited.
Sports journalism took precedence over homework — no exceptions (I’ve always been lauded for having my priorities straight, even from a young age). I devoured every THN issue cover to cover — the longform articles by sportswriters I idolized and emulated, the game previews, the power rankings, the letters to the editor. I first wrote in a letter myself when I was probably 13 or 14. Opening the next issue to see my name printed in my favorite magazine is a rush I’ll never forget. Even if it was only for a 50-word blip bemoaning the existence of the overtime “loser point.”
Hockey receded from being my central, singular obsession by the time I hit university. My love for magazine writing and my own writerly ambitions remained, but were thoroughly shaken after a single uninspiring semester as an English major. The challenge of making a career from writing, which only seemed increasingly futile, futher pursuaded me to change direction.
After another semester of academic infidelity, I ultimately settled into the earth sciences department and majored in geography. The Hockey News subscription was supplanted by the likes of National Geographic, Outside, and Orion, which stoked my love of maps, outdoor adventure, environmentalism, and non-fiction storytelling — all still defining aspects of my life.
Beyond university, as my student subscription rates evaporated and media became ever more online, reading physical magazines became a rarity for me. Yet, despite the convenience and infinitude of cheap (or free) content now surrounding us, we lose something when reading on screens. I feel it. I know you do, too. Reading online always feels… emptier. Even excellent writing feels somewhat valueless and insignificant, so long as it is embedded in an infinite void of distractions, always just a swipe away.
At 32 years old, I’m perhaps too young to be having my “back in my day” moment, ranting about the superiority of an anachronistic technology. Fortunately, the science backs me up on this one. We fundamentally read differently on paper than we do on screens. Maryanne Wolf, a leading scholar in the science of reading, says: “How we read will influence what we read and what we read will influence how we think, feel, and aspire to the good life — and how we define it.”
Digital mediums encourage skimming and scrolling, while print encourages deep reading. Deep reading makes you think deeper, feel deeper, imagine deeper, and empathize deeper. It is also a skill that atrophies without use. So, in a digital world, print media should be considered a necessity, not merely an anachronistic indulgence.
I’ve been reflecting on this thanks to receiving my first Mountain Gazette issue this week, a magazine that takes the print ethos to the extreme. Published intermittently since the ’60s and now in its 3rd iteration after being revived in 2020 by former Powder and Ski Journal editor Mike Rogge, Mountain Gazette fully embraces the aesthetic print experience. It’s huge. It’s beautiful. It’s exclusive. By exclusive, I mean that there is no digital version. The stories are never published online. The only way in is to purchase a physical copy of this bi-annual beast of a magazine.
As a mountain lover — and lover of mountain writing and mountain sports in particular — I had to see what was inside. Some of my biggest literary influences, from Edward Abbey to Gary Snyder, were past contributors. It seemed to be required reading. It was quickly confirmed that this is indeed the case.
In his “Jaded Local” column from MG 200, Hans Ludwig shares an indelible quote from Hunter S. Thompson, an OG MG contributor: “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” For mountain-mad poet bum degenerate weirdos such as me, struggling to cobble together a career of writing about mountains and nature, MG is the outlet where the weird can turn pro. It’s the big leagues. The stories are literary yet accessible. They are hilarious, yet heartbreaking. They are mostly about mountains, yet always about so much more. Plus, photos and illustrations simply hit hard in a 17x11 spread.
Mountain Gazette reignited my love for print and has me taking a close look at the stuff I give attention to. It’s up to us to determine our media inputs, but our ability to do that is increasingly manipulated by the attention economy. Nefarious algorithms and user interfaces are designed to game our brains into staying on specific platforms. Bottomless newsfeeds favor content that incites anger and rage — a great strategy for harvesting shares, views, and likes (i.e. ad revenue), but not so great for social cohesion and general human well-being.
Content is now pervasive and infinite, but your life isn’t. Bringing some print media back into your regular media diet is the best way to curate what is deserving of your finite time. Ask yourself: what currently consumes your attention? Who is profiting off your attention? Does the content (gross word, btw) you consume add value to your life?
I bet you won’t be okay with your answers. I wasn’t. I’m still not, but I’m working on it: 200 pages of Mountain Gazette sure is helping. Whatever feeds your soul, whether that is mountains or weird music or running or coffee or, hell, even golf, there is probably a sublime independent print mag that will fill your cup.
Whatever your thing is, just make some time to read real stories. By real people. On real paper. It will remind you to get out and live real life. To touch grass, as they say. Isn’t that all we’re really here to do?
