{"product_id":"the-unsettlers-isbn-9780735216082","title":"The Unsettlers","description":"\u003cb\u003e“An in-depth and compelling account of diverse Americans living off the grid.” \u003ci\u003e—Los Angeles Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe radical search for the simple life in today’s America. \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOn a frigid April night, a classically trained opera singer, five months pregnant, and her husband, a former marine biologist, disembark an Amtrak train in La Plata, Missouri, assemble two bikes, and pedal off into the night, bound for a homestead they've purchased, sight unseen. Meanwhile, a horticulturist, heir to the Great Migration that brought masses of African Americans to Detroit, and her husband, a product of the white flight from it, have turned to urban farming to revitalize the blighted city they both love. And near Missoula, Montana, a couple who have been at the forefront of organic farming for decades navigate what it means to live and raise a family ethically.   \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA work of immersive journalism steeped in a distinctively American social history and sparked by a personal quest, \u003ci\u003eThe Unsettlers\u003c\/i\u003e traces the search for the simple life through the stories of these new pioneers and what inspired each of them to look for -- or create -- a better existence. Captivating and clear-eyed, it dares us to imagine what a sustainable, ethical, authentic future might actually look like.“You say you want a revolution? These stories of “unsettlers” striving to lead more simple lives are an inspiration as well as a dose of reality on how difficult that can be. This is an important book.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Yvon Chouinard, founder of Patagonia\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A fascinating, timely, and deeply personal examination of what it means to be a non-conformist in the modern age.\"—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eOutside\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “If talk of politics makes you pine for a life away from Twitter and cable news and the rest, Mark Sundeen's \u003ci\u003eThe Unsettlers \u003c\/i\u003eoffers a few tips for how to build a sustainable future.\" —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\"In-depth and compelling…These homesteaders show us how the other other half lives.\" \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Los Angeles Times \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “An enlightening read... [and] exceptional reporting on a topic that we’d all be wise to familiarize ourselves with.” —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eParis Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A well-crafted, intimate portrait…Sundeen is a sympathetic, self-deprecating, imperfect Virgil, and thus a perfect, humorous, yet earnest guide on a foray into uncompromising outposts where people are striving for purity in a deeply compromised world.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eSan Francisco Chronicle\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “[A] deftly written study.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Nature\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “In this deft, impeccably reported book, Sundeen offers a fresh look at the recurrent American urge for the 'simple' life ... gain[ing] personal insights that feel honest and weighty.\" \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Los Angeles Review of Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“This fallen world has quite enough wannabe farmers, and long may they thrive. But it's frankly hard to imagine the bunch of carrots, however lovingly husbanded, that would be more nourishing than the body of work Sundeen is building.” \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Missoula Independent\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"A mix of social history and well-crafted journalism.\" \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eUSA Today’s Green Living \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"A seriously fascinating and inspiring read. It's a book for anyone who has ever wondered how to live more sustainably, more consciously, and also a bit more crazily (in a wow-how-can-they-live-without-the-internet? kind of way). Mark is a terrific writer and I was absorbed by every page of this deep, insightful examination of the lives of a handful of Americans who choose to live differently.”—\u003cb\u003eCheryl Strayed\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“Sundeen captures a balance between idealism and realism that leaves the reader feeling inspired, introspective and, at the very least, a little bit unsettled.” \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—The Missoulian\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Pretty darn good. … Particularly interesting is the way Sundeen compares and contrasts the white, suburban mythology of “what happened to Detroit” with the urban, black perspective on the city’s transformation. … Probably the best, fairest portrayal of the Motor City’s postwar metamorphosis published since Scott Martelle’s \u003ci\u003eDetroit: A Biography\u003c\/i\u003e.\" \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Detroit Metro Times\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  “By framing the book as a search for answers, not arguments, Sundeen fills [\u003ci\u003eThe Unsettlers\u003c\/i\u003e] with empathy and curiosity. Each section is distinguished by strong reporting, and Sundeen’s admiration for his subjects is clear.” —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Rumpus\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “[A] carefully and affectionate­ly reported account of idealists working not to leave the real world behind, but to make it better.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eBookPage\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A gorgeous new book that provides a contemporary twist on Wendell Berry’s 1977 classic, \u003ci\u003eThe Unsettling of America\u003c\/i\u003e.... Sundeen finds beauty in each of the couples’ lives, he doesn’t flatten them into human Instagrams….[they] are weird, stubborn and strong, and Sundeen provides a nuanced picture of their beliefs… Importantly, Sundeen also acknowledges that the “renunciation of privilege” can become “just another means of exercising it.” \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—High Country News\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“A mix of social history and well-crafted journalism, this book relays the deeply personal stories of today’s pioneers.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Living Green\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Simplicity is a relative matter; there is no one path or goal in that quest, and the degrees of simplicity one might achieve vary widely from one person to another…Those who seek the simple life that Mark Sundeen presents in \u003ci\u003eThe Unsettlers\u003c\/i\u003e reflect that diversity… Nothing is easy about riding a bicycle to La Plata in winter, or about coaxing food from the wastelands of Detroit. But all of these simplifiers have been roaring successes in one simple way: they have, through their devoted work, gained true joy in their lives.” \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Missouri Historical Review \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “In captivating detail, [Sundeen] explores what it takes to live off the grid, survive without government intervention and live a sustainable life...Charming, self-deprecating and honest.” \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Coachella Valley Weekly\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Well researched, immediately engaging, immensely readable, and ultimately inspiring. This is the perfect read for DIY-types with dreams of saving the world, or at least their own backyards.” —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e“From dirt roads in rural Missouri to Detroit’s foreclosed streets, Sundeen reports how people throughout the United States have chosen to live simple but never simply…these pages will leave any reader with a penchant for sustainability to question their own carbon footprint.” —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Engaging, honest, and deeply personal… Provocative reading for anyone who has ever yearned for a life of radical simplicity.” —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Sundeen…ask[s] important questions about technology, the economy, and the moral implications of being both critic and participant in our society.” —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003ePublisher’s Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"From a crop of orphaned garlic plants in Detroit to a tipi birth in Montana, Mark Sundeen’s \u003ci\u003eThe Unsettlers \u003c\/i\u003eis rigorously reported and utterly enthralling. With candor, wit, and live-voltage curiosity, Sundeen profiles pioneers who have developed better ways to live in our overdeveloped world. \u003ci\u003eThe Unsettlers \u003c\/i\u003eisn’t in the business of guilt or shame mongering, but it will certainly—if you have a pulse and a laptop, or even an electrical socket—make you question how you live in the world as well.\" \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Leslie Jamison, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Empathy Exams\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e“With his chronicles of modern-day American visionaries and iconoclasts who have opted out of the mainstream culture, I’ve come to think of Mark Sundeen as our poet laureate of a new era of alternative lifestyles.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Bob Shacochis, author of\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003cb\u003eThe Woman Who Lost Her Soul\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\"\u003ci\u003eThe Unsettlers\u003c\/i\u003e portrait of six true-hearted heroes of husbandry pitted against the Corporate Person would put the fear of God in that monster if it had a pulse. Sundeen’s opus combines fierce reasoning, romance, impeccable research, the narrative pull of a thriller, and the subliminal magic of some wondrous old myth as he takes the measure of America’s betrayed yearning for a living, thriving earth.\"—\u003cb\u003eDavid James Duncan, author of \u003ci\u003eThe River Why \u003c\/i\u003eand\u003ci\u003e The Brothers K \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eMark Sundeen \u003c\/b\u003eis the author of several books, including \u003ci\u003eThe Man Who Quit Money \u003c\/i\u003eand the coauthor of \u003ci\u003eNorth by Northwestern\u003c\/i\u003e, which was a \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eWall Street Journal \u003c\/i\u003ebestseller. He has taught fiction and nonfiction in\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003ethe MFA creative writing programs at the University of New Mexico and Southern\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003eNew Hampshire University. He and his wife divide their time between Fort Collins, Colorado, and Moab, Utah.\u003c\/p\u003eOne\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was looking for people freed from commercial civilization, who      might give me direction for doing it myself. Yet after a full      year, everyone I'd met fell into one of five categories, none of      which was exactly right.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e First were single men. These guys had achieved self-reliance, but      in cutting ties with the economy, they had also severed family      bonds, the opposite of what I was on the verge of doing. I wanted      blueprints for cohabitation, not hermitry.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Next I met people who, after leading a simple life for some period      of time, decided to quit-Cedar's parents, for example. After years      of eking out a living growing food and selling stained glass at      craft fairs, they both got full-time jobs and eventually replaced      the barn with a beautiful on-grid home. \"We took poverty as far as      we could,\" her dad told me with a laugh. A friend of mine who      birthed a baby in a school bus in a snowstorm on a mountain told      me that tripping in the snow on the way to the outhouse one      night-pregnant, shitting herself-was not what had finally nudged      her and her husband to abandon the homestead. It was the prospect      of driving the kids forty minutes to school each day. People who      quit the simple life were the rule; I wanted the exceptions.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In the third group were people who had launched their vision with      considerable wealth or inherited land. I met a family who had      deftly flipped a house in the suburbs before the crash, paid cash      for acreage, and built an off-grid straw-bale house. I envied and      admired them, but I couldn't afford to replicate what they'd done.      Perhaps the most famous modern homesteader is Ree Drummond, who      spun her massively popular Pioneer Woman blog into a series of      books and TV shows that extol home cooking and homeschooling. But      Drummond acquired her piece of paradise by marrying into a family      that ranks among America's largest landowners.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There were also those from a tradition of simple living, such as      the Amish and the Mennonites. But you had to be born into such a      culture. You couldn't just join.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And then there were the moonlighters. Western Montana and southern      Utah, where I'd lived for two decades, were meccas for      back-to-the-landers, as were Vermont and Northern California. But      those places were all expensive now, and buying in these days-or      even staying afloat-required working an outside job to support a      homestead hobby. I admired the commitment of those who'd figured      out how to make it work. But for me a crucial motivation for      living simply was to gain more freedom, not to sprint on some      treadmill just to pay the bank.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What can I actually do?\" asked the British economist E. F.      Schumacher in his 1973 book Small Is Beautiful, in the face of      intractable tentacles of industry. \"In the excitement over the      unfolding of his scientific and technical powers,\" he wrote,      \"modern man has built a system of production that ravishes nature      and a type of society that mutilates man.\" Meanwhile, the wealthy      were stripping the world of its cheap fuels at such a quick rate      that poor countries would never get a fair share.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Schumacher's solution: \"We can, each of us, work to put our own      inner house in order.\" He viewed economics through a Buddhist      lens, asserting that \"the essence of civilization [is] not in a      multiplication of wants but in the purification of human      character.\" Instead of productivity for its own sake, Schumacher      heralded the Buddhist ideal of \"right livelihood,\" whose function      he defined as threefold: to excel at one's craft, to overcome      selfishness by working in common cause with others, and to create      useful goods and services.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Wendell Berry echoed this: \"How can a man hope to promote peace in      the world if he has not made it possible in his own life and his      own household?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e So after a year of searching for the people who had taken Wendell      Berry's challenge to quit destructive technology, I found that I      was equally interested in finding people who had taken his      challenge to put their households in order.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Where to find homesteaders more radical, more committed, yet less      isolated than the ones I'd met thus far? Not personally knowing      any, I launched my search-where else?-on Facebook. Through a short      chain of acquaintances I learned about a place in Missouri, the      Possibility Alliance. Some people I met at an anarchist collective      told me they had gone there to launch a monthlong bike ride      devoted to service-a ride they'd all done dressed as superheroes.      But in these instantly searchable times, it was surprisingly hard      to find out more. The alliance was shrouded in analog mystery: no      website or social media, no major press coverage. Was it a commune      or a school or an ashram or a summer camp or a training ground for      revolutionaries?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Gradually I gathered this much: Members of the Possibility      Alliance used no electricity, cars, or computers. They lived by      candlelight and grew their own food and rode bicycles and horses      and trains. They lived in voluntary poverty rather than pay an      income tax that financed war. Knowledge of the place spread by      word of mouth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I eventually obtained a phone number-landlines don't require      electricity-and after a series of messages spoke with Ethan      Hughes, who, along with his wife, Sarah Wilcox, had founded the      Possibility Alliance after they'd disembarked that Amtrak train in      La Plata in 2007. He told me that the alliance hosted 1,500      visitors per year, some for a two-hour tour or a half-day course      in canning or knitting, others for a weeklong natural-building      workshop or a two-week permaculture course.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"People pull up in the train and are picked up by horse and buggy      or by bike,\" he said. \"We call it 'necessary simplicity.' I don't      know how to build another planet, but I know how to simplify. It      creates a myth. In the age of the Internet, people get bored.      There's this mystery. People track us down.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I asked what sort of people showed up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"All kinds. Catholic Workers and anti-religious anarchists,      permaculturists and Buddhists.\" At present they were so inundated      with visitors that they could accommodate me only during      \"Experience Week.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The price for the nine-day visit: zero. They operated strictly on      the \"gift economy.\" I asked what that meant.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I see objects and money like water,\" he said. \"It's flowing. If      in nature one tree kept all the water, everything downstream would      die. By studying nature we see-\" He stopped mid-sentence.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"The bell of mindfulness just rang,\" he said. \"Do you mind taking      a moment of silence with me?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Days after our wedding and our honeymoon in a lake cabin, I left      Cedar in Montana and set out, alone, for the Midwest. Summer of      2013 had lasted to September and it was hot and muggy. I drove      through La PlataÕs shuttered downtown and along the edges of farms      where rows of soybeans were marked with signs advertising their      peculiar brand names, which sounded more like erection enhancers      than vegetables-Syngenta, CruiserMaxx, Touchdown Total-and then\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e onto a long, straight dirt road that led to a wooden cottage.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The Possibility Alliance looked precisely like what it was when      Ethan and Sarah had bought it: an Amish farm. An early-century      Craftsman bungalow rested in the shade of big trees. A barn housed      two draft horses, and inside a tin warehouse dozens of bikes hung      from hooks. Behind the house, chickens clucked in a hutch, herbs      flourished in a garden, and someone was cooking over a fire in the      shade of an outdoor kitchen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ethan himself looked about as normal as a guy could look. He wore      shorts and a ragged T-shirt and river sandals. Hair: brownish,      thinnish, shortish. Likely he cut it himself. He told me where to      park my car, where to pitch my tent, where to fill my water      bottle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The first order of business was trying to cool off. It was ninety      degrees and humid, more of the same forecast for the week, and I      was suddenly aware that there would be no air-conditioning, fans,      refrigerated drinks, or ice cubes. Ethan invited me to cool down      by jumping in the pond. \"The only rule is you have to keep your      clothes on,\" he said. He didn't want to offend the Amish      neighbors.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I stepped behind a tree and changed into trunks, then beelined for      the dock and leapt in. But instead of the heart-stopping chill of      mountain lakes, the water caressed me like a lukewarm bath. I      floated there, as if in a sensory-deprivation tank. Finally      someone instructed that by diving deep I could reach the cold      pockets, and I did, shivering joyfully in the deeps, then popping      to the surface, finally refreshed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e So began Experience Week. There were twenty of us in all, some      visiting from other intentional communities, some considering      joining the PA, and others like me, the Luddite-curious. We      attended classes on topics as wide-ranging as straw-bale      construction, conflict resolution, organic gardening, civil      disobedience, bow making, hand-saw forestry, and integral      nonviolence. We rode bicycles to La Plata to sing in a nursing      home. Four or five times a day we flopped off the dock into the      tepid pond and floated there, slightly and temporarily cooled.      There was holding hands in a circle, singing, naming things we      were thankful for, icebreaker games: it felt just like the dozens      of Outward Bound courses I had loved leading.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Like her husband, Sarah gave no outward indication of radicalness,      in cargo shorts and sandals and a tank top, her dark hair brushed      straight to her shoulders. While Ethan led many of the workshops      and games, she mostly retreated from the group. She seemed to have      her hands full with their two daughters, six-year-old Etta and      two-year-old Isla (pronouncd I-la), beautiful, precocious girls      who had hardly seen a television screen or the inside of a store.      In addition to Sarah and Ethan, there was one other permanent      member of the alliance and three full-time residents considering      committing. It wasn't a light decision; joining the PA required      giving away all your savings-not giving it to the community, but      donating it elsewhere. Another six apprentices were camped in      tents for the season. The men at the PA were mostly clean-cut,      shirtless Midwestern boys who split wood and milked the goats. If      not for the rap about permaculture and yoga, I might have thought      I had landed in a frat house.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ethan and the others gathered us around and said, \"Now it's time      to receive your superhero instructions.\" They passed around a      basket of folded paper notes and we each picked one. \"Before the      end of the week,\" Ethan said, \"you must complete this mission.\" I      opened mine. It read, Tell somebody a secret that you're afraid to      tell.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was becoming clear that, as guests, we were not passive      observers but rather subjects of the alliance's mission: to open      our hearts and minds.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's easier to radicalize an institution than it is to radicalize      yourself,\" Ethan said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e This struck me as some bull. I was already a good-enough person. I      recycled. I paid taxes. I voted Democrat. I didn't need to change.      I just needed to persuade other people to change, to live a little      more lightly, to live, well, a little more like me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e That night, lying in a pool of sweat in my tent, I had a chance to      reflect on exactly what sort of life I led. I thought about my own      household. At home, as dishes piled up in the sink, I had Googled      myself and found that someone had posted photos of me on his      Tumblr page. I clicked, assuming I'd find some parade of literary      excellence. Instead it was a collection titled \"Balding Men.\" I      ran my fingers across my scalp. It's actually called a high      forehead-a Scandinavian trait. It connotes wisdom. I searched for      \"bald authors\" to confirm that I had not made that list. But was      that because of my adequate hair or my obscurity? I examined the      hair of literary stars. Jonathan Franzen, David Foster Wallace:      full heads of it. The Norwegian Karl Ove KnausgŒrd looked like a      goddamn hŒr modell for Vidal Sassoon.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was mid-list, mid-life, mid-forehead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Amid everyone else on the Internet vying for acclaim, who would      ever adore me? I surfed the websites of authors male and female:      the lustrous hair, the bestsellers, the university appointments,      the foreign translations. A fantasy of these recipients of      Guggenheim grants formed in my mind, not an orgy but a Committee:      in filtered sunlight behind lacquered diplomas they would encircle      me like a panel of judges, praise my oeuvre, award me a      fellowship, whisper sweetly that my life's work was worth the      trouble. My appetite for this sort of acclaim had been repressed      before the Internet, because finding an outlet was too laborious.      Now it was easy. Infinite.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But the headshots instead of lavishing praise murmured the      opposite: Your career, your talent: so mediocre. And as for your      marriage: Are you sure you made the right choice? Why didn't you      find someone more successful, someone on the Committee who might      introduce you to the right people? Yet I kept coming back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I had relied on a therapist over the years to condone whatever I      wanted to do. Now he furrowed his brow and said, \"Sounds like      you're not being a good partner.\" He suggested that online      voyeurism was the seed of infidelity. \"Because here's the thing      about being married,\" he said, \"and this is the voice of God      talking: You can not fuck around.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"But it's not exactly sexual,\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Which was true. But what I was brewing was still a form of      betrayal, more cowardly than outright betrayal. Despite having      married the only woman I had ever wanted to marry, I still had      something hollow in me, something that had been there all along      and that I'd assumed would be filled by her love. For years I had      chased love and acclaim, as equal rewards. But now that I had      actual love, I saw that it was the opposite of acclaim. In the      parlance of Schumacher, instead of purifying my character I was      multiplying my wants. My longing for acclaim appeared to have no      limits. Beneath my nonmaterialistic exterior, I was as driven to      succeed as any salesman or stockbroker. Marrying the woman I loved      would not move me up to the next career rung, and with a gasp of      shame I had to admit that, somehow, I had hoped it would.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I resolved to disband the Committee. But when I sat at the screen      and the link to some \"Best American Essayist\" appeared, I clicked      it anyway. The Committee would not disband.","brand":"Riverhead Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302259609829,"sku":"NP9780735216082","price":16.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780735216082_54646849-02b8-48c8-b67a-051eae39e5ed.jpg?v=1742926829","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-unsettlers-isbn-9780735216082","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}