28 June 2026

Reader,

Why Friction?

I was speaking to some folks I met at the MLA Intellectual Freedom Summit a couple of weeks back (Hi and welcome if you are one of my new subscribers from there!), and during some of our infrequent free moments, we got to talking about our own projects and Frictional Reading arose.

Since the group was mostly librarians, I was little surprised at their response: curiosity, engagement, enthusiasm, and then a gentle and healthy skepticism. One of the first things I point out, of course, is that this very skepticism is an example of the kind of friction I'm talking about.

But then the almost inevitable question emerges: "Yes, but why talk about it as friction?"

And I am happy to admit that the very first reason was almost purely intuitive, a gut response, which came from listening to Robert Rose talk about his then new book, Valuable Friction. And after I had read it, I was more convinced. Finally, when I saw more distinctly how the term had been used in other disciplines, it was cemented for me.

Intuitive epiphany of this sort comes fairly rarely for me. Two of them in quick succession (one quite literally at the top of a small and remote mountain in Tanzania--could it be any more cliche?) responsible for the conception of Waywords Studio and Literary Nomads. No need to consult Kant or Bergson: intuition as a form of knowledge is an unconscious sort of pattern recognition which arises from experience.

So when Robert (who I now correspond with) said "friction," somehow my many years of reading and writing and teaching and research right back to my Masters works in 1991 came together. (And I sure am glad that the research bears me out, because otherwise it'd be quite a blow to my past decades!)

But to the metaphor:

First, let's acknowledge that friction is often misread as a synonym merely for "resistance," "combativeness," "irritant," "clutter," or "opposition," "barrier," "interference," or "inefficiency." Hence the skepticism. This is how we often read it, a noisy drag on our work.

And it can be. I am certainly not going to pretend that a fair amount of my teaching career discovered and leaned into just these sorts of frictional relations, much to the frustration of administrators and sometimes colleagues. (Friction has little do with popularity, at least in most work cultures.)

But let's ask another question: why is it that work cultures themselves see friction first (and sometimes only) by these definitions? It is because they are largely governed by models of business and profit (and the resulting psychology) that value efficiency, speed, streamlining, a perception of forward motion or progress, turnkey solutions, optimized bandwidths, agility, and automations? (I was there in the 80s-90s when Deming's TQM and similar business principles attempted to re-structure the teacher work of cognitive development after the Japanese had used it to make better cars.)

Friction does act in antithesis to these principles. It is an intentional response to the algorithmic smoothness and speed we are too-fast embracing. It offers a gravel (I won't use "grit" in an educational context, teachers), resistance, and heat to how we interact with the information/content we read.

1. In our thinking, it is a posture that shifts from passive scanning/scrolling back to active processing, a slowing and attention-anchoring which builds what I call cognitive sovereignty as aspiration.
2. In our conversations with each other and with texts, it is the grateful discovery and engagement with difference: from bringing together diverse viewpoints to negotiating our own multi-vocal personas. We seek contradictions which reveal; in this way, dialogue becomes a space for generative tension and renewed exploration: broader understandings.
3. For educators, this all signals what we often call a "growth mindset," where the learner spaces are often themselves tested, where a text's own constraints are pushed against, where difficulties and dead ends are not failures (nor marked as such, btw), but evidence of an environment for growth. Learning is not passive if reading is not.
4. And in a culture which too often works to colonize our attention, friction becomes an examination of narratives otherwise heedlessly consumed and the application of critical resistance to them. Literacy of this kind is a tool for collective agency, a means to reclaim human imagination.

In cultures where literacy is truly valued, the frictional reader is understood as an asset, not an irritant: "Thank you for slowing us down so that we can actually understand what this decision does." We collectively grow stronger as individuals and as democracies.

Misreading friction, defining by dysphemism, a negativity bias, only reveals the need for its application. Frictional reading is never purely destructive. It must ultimately be formative: a wheel with better traction, a flint strike, a climber's crampon, the resistance weights in the gym, a meandering riverbed, or a root system against erosion.

In the coming newsletters, I'll dip in from time to time to open these four application zones wider to see the implications for each!

Literary Nomads: Grand Tours!

Tying together my experiences on PEI, Anne of Green Gables, the economics, ideology, and psychology of literary tourism, and a host of texts around all of it, Journey 7 is underway with a two-part episode on The Grand Tour. This was a 16th-19th century rite of passage for wealthier young males who sought to "educate" themselves beyond their ordinary schooling.

Soon, though, it developed into something far larger. I mark some of its roots as far back as the writing of haiku master Basho in the 1600s. And so far, it seems that there are two modes of perceiving we need to discuss. One is the attitude we ourselves carry into our travels, and the other is a response to that: the "tourist gaze" which anticipates that first attitude and creates a "World" to meet it.

We move forward over the next two weeks to examine how we prepare for such trips, both physically and psychologically. What do we pack to smooth out that journey, to buffer ourselves from anything which might disrupt the Gaze?

Finally, I've developed a series of mini-adventures or experiments you can try right from where you are to uncover the terms I'm working with. They're downloadable from the Show Notes and on the website under the buttons "Skeptical Pilgrim Challenges."

​​​Journey 7​

Episodes ahead:

• 7.03 (7/03): Packing Lists Pt. 1: Isabella Bird / Dorothy Wordsworth
• 7.04 (7/10): Packing Lists Pt. 2: Mary Seacole / Sei Shōnagon
• 7:05 (7/17) Authorial Footprints: Marquez & Aracataca
• 7.06 (7/24) Mapping Dreams: Calvino's Invisible Cities
• 7.07 (7/31) Ghost in the Garden, Pt. 1: Dark Montgomery

Also, the Listener Survey for Journey 6 is open! Take a few minutes. Do the survey. Get stuff.

Calendar: July is for Freedoms

I'll trade you jokes, but I don't trade my chocolate.

• July: Disability Pride Month
• July 1: International Joke Day
• July 4: US Independence Day
• July 7: World Chocolate Day
• July 12: Malala Day
• July 14: International Non-Binary Peoples Day
• July 14: Bastille Day

Chapter 4: The Native Inland Sea

In so many ways, what happened from 1700 to the early 1800s in the Great Lakes/Ohio River Valley/Mississippi region provoked and anticipated much of the founding of our own government and its principles. It was a vast network of water where the most diverse people learned and re-learned how to survive and even prosper across national and cultural barriers. ​
​
​Well, that is, until the race-thinking and economics of a bankrupt fledgling country changed everything.

​

Early Book Recommendation

My Favorite Thing is Monsters by Emil Ferris (2017)

Narrated by a 10-yr-old protagonist in 1960s Chicago, this book is anything but a graphic novel for children.

Instead, it weaves some powerful growth and identity themes into a complex history of monsters, (mostly) acting as metaphors in the imagination but very much real, historically and now. Combine this with some of the most vibrant and creative artwork I've seen in the genre, and this is an amazing exploration of the nuance and entangling conceptions of horror.

This is an expensive buy, and there is a second volume, too. I got my library's edition!

"No Such Thing As Writing for Children"

by Maria Popova

Tolkien voices for us his belief that he has never written for children (just as writers like Gaiman, Sendak, and others have), but more, he argues in his essays that fantasy and the world of fairy are not only suitable for all as art, but that the genres of fantasy are themselves superior in their ability to deliver message.

Here is Maria Popova's excellent article highlighting Tolkien's points. Or, if you'd rather really appreciate Tolkien's full insights, read his full essay "On Fairy Stories," here. ​

Heatwave ahead here! Bracing for a week of quiet work hiding in a cool basement, literary trog that I am! Clearly you know where to find me: hit me up and let me know what you're working on!

Steve

What's Still Ahead?

• How I Read
• Excerpts from Frictional Reading
• Reflection: Muses or Misconceptions

​​​ ​​​​ ​Podcasts​ ​Fiction & Verse​ ​Education​ Copyright (C) 2026 Waywords Studio LLC. All rights reserved. Thank you for being part of our growing community!

​