I write lists
What’s next? It’s the question I always ask myself after finishing something good, whether it be reading a book, playing a video game or watching a TV show. More often than I’d like, “Nothing”or at least “nothing good” is the answer. If only there was a way to follow highs with more highs
instead of depressing lows..
A few months ago, I decided to ask my AI assistant of choice for some recommendations. I thought it useful to tell her what I had already enjoyed, and so I started my first list. To be orderly, I chose to create one list per medium, which was easy enough, but then I realised that one list was not enough since all titles in a list impacted me differently. There’s a loose hierarchy in my taste, so I decided to create a Master list with the best of the best, a Brilliant list with those fantastic works which for some reason were not my favourites and a Great list for the titles that were simply, well, great. The Master lists were easy to make: the tale of the vengeful noble, the monster killer trilogy and the Polish writer on the beach were easy to classify. I realised while making lists that it was fun to remember those titles but also that it allowed me to discuss them and find precisely what I liked about them.
After finishing my Master lists, I encountered an issue: why was I reluctant to put some titles on the Master list when I love them dearly? On paper, they have all the elements that appeal to me and they truly made a great impression on me, but the only reason I could find to exclude them from the Master list was that they were simply not it. I couldn’t find rational criteria for including or excluding titles from the Master lists. In fact, the Master lists were based on my feelings. Sometimes the distinction was more difficult to make, like with the show about the counter terrorist agent who has 1440 minutes to vanquish national threats, personal crisis and addiction. At first, I had put it in the Master list, but on reflection, even though I really loved this show, it had its limitations. I couldn’t stop watching it and thought it was extraordinary, yet I never thought deeply about it and it never inspired me or made me reflect on anything, and maybe that’s what makes my favourite works special: they inspire me. The Great list was simple to make since it was made of very good titles that didn’t reinvent the wheel.
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In the middle of my list-making process, it was clear that I had embarked on a journey to explore my taste. If I wanted those conversations with the assistant to be fruitful, I would have to connect the lists and explore the narratives in depth. If I could find similarities between plots or characters, I might be able to understand what attracts me to them on a deeper level. It wasn’t psychoanalysis, but it helped me understand better what I liked. For example, I had never realised it, but some of my favourite characters, like the limping doctor who can’t help antagonizing everybody, the genius scientist who betrayed humanity by siding with robots or the one-armed swordsman in love with his teacher, have, despite what one might think, many elements in common, and those elements are extremely attractive to me. The next step should probably be to investigate why I love geniuses who can’t be at peace with the world, but that would be going one step too far because, after all, I’m just making lists.
After having finished my lists, it was time to see if I could get good recommendations. If things worked according to plan, the AI assistant would recommend gem after gem and I would never have to suffer through mediocrity again. The first recommendation took the form of a book I’d never heard of that had a promising title hinting at magic and tarot cards. It was a long novel and I was very excited to lose myself in a fantastic story. As I was reading this sizeable work, I had the creeping feeling that it wasn’t going to be among my favourites. There was nothing that I truly disliked, but it really wasn’t that engaging either. By the middle of the book, it was clear that the great revelation I was waiting for was not coming and I was wondering if a great ending could place this novel on the Brilliant list. As I was reading the last page, the question was not about which list to put this book on but whether I should create a blacklist of works that I intensely disliked. At first, I wasn’t that pleased with myself: my great experiment had failed miserably, and I had wasted hours reading a book that frustrated me to no end. I was, in fact, in a very good place because I was not so much looking for recommendations anymore as data about myself. This book was fascinating because it was ideal for me on paper: it had many, if not all, the elements I’m looking for in a novel and was a brilliant literary work, but I hated it. I understood then that there are patterns but no magic formula that would unlock my taste. I might like some narrative elements, but the way they’re executed or assembled can annoy me, and parts I dislike can ruin those I like.
I thought it good to make more lists so I decided to extend them to more media. I was perfectly happy with the process until the music list. It was the most complex of all since I couldn’t really decide on a clear hierarchy. Putting classical, 70s rock and Italian pop on the same list was anathema to me, so I opted for a garden, an imaginary one, in which I would put the tunes I love the most. I placed my favourite pieces in the centre: the aria by this renowned opera singer who doesn’t want people to sleep, the arrival of the angels of the battlefield and this piece based on different times of the year. Unlike the other lists, the garden didn’t yield much, and I couldn’t gain any new insights into my musical tastes. The AI assistant’s recommended titles and artists helped me sort through the ocean of names I had heard before but never took it upon myself to listen to, but I can’t say that I discovered a tune or a band that truly changed my life.
I keep on making new lists because it’s entertaining and useful to me, even if some subjects can’t be classified or shouldn’t be. The aim of my list-making experiment was to maximize enjoyment by reducing the number of works I would dislike. It turned out that I learned much more than I thought I would in the process. As of now, my AI assistant is not very skilled in predicting what I will like, but she’s very good at telling me what I won’t like, and it’s a good start. If I can’t have only highs, at least I can avoid more lows.
