'Now For You': 5000 Subscribers

Some significant astonishment, a totally indifferent cat and a 20% discount code

---

Mabel doesn’t give a crap about how my Substack is doing

---

“Well”, as my grandmother would have said with a clipped tone and a judgemental expression. “Now for you”. Viewed merely through the lens of English grammar, the sentence makes no sense whatsoever, but “now for you” is an Irish (or rather Hiberno English) expression of mild surprise, and a way of gently drawing a line under a conversation. You might use it upon hearing from a colleague that Beth from accounts was just spectacularly arrested in the canteen for embezzling eight million in company money over the past seventeen years. There’s a natural lull as you both quietly consider that Beth, with her orthopaedic shoes, nasal voice and mild cabbage aroma never seemed capable of anything so daring. To break the silence, one of you says to the other in a tone of shock and perhaps grudging respect for Beth’s mettle: “Well… Now for you.”

When I saw that Peak Notions’ subscriber count hit 5000 last night, I turned to Mabel the cat in surprise, and sombrely said “Now for you.” Ideally I’d have said this to a human, or at least someone whose vocabulary isn’t limited solely to the word ‘Mabel’ and the sound of a bag of dry cat food being opened, but you make do with what you’ve got. There was no one else around. In response, the cat turned balefully over to face the wall in what felt like a deliberately hostile expression of disinterest, and promptly fell asleep.

In the last three weeks, something odd has happened around here - I’m still struggling to process it. I moved to Australia and wrote about why I made the decision to move (Mabel also moved to Australia, which may explain why she seems so especially disgusted by my company at the moment), Substack interviewed me for their Grow Series, and suddenly readership numbers have increased by a staggering degree in a short time. Peak Notions is now landing in five thousand inboxes each week.

After several disillusioning years in academia and media, I’ve been quietly chipping away here over the last fourteen months or so. The community that has built up around Peak Notions feels miraculous, warm, and unusual. People who want to explore their natural curiosity have turned up here. People who interpret new ideas charitably (I cannot sufficiently stress how rare and wonderful that is). People who seem to want to read the sort of things I want to write. People who recognise — as I do — that solemnity does not equate to intellect. Being alive is just as absurd as it is profound. We contain multitudes. You can read and understand Plato and also snicker childishly when you witness someone trip over something and have one of those slow, preposterous falls to the ground that seem to take forever and offer them several failed chances to right themselves. They’re not hurt, but their bag of oranges opens and the fruit rolls everywhere. This sort of mild mayhem is an antidote to the performative seriousness of living in the world. It would be stupider not to laugh, especially if you’re the one falling over (as I often am).

Some of the stupidest and least compassionate people I know have doctorates and formal educations from widely respected universities. There’s a reason that politicians wear suits and not sweatpants. Some of the most insightful and smartest people I know wear Crocs with socks and have enough humility to laugh at themselves. They are more interested in asking questions than appearing to have the answers. There’s little status gain or welcome in asking questions — generally quite the opposite.

What has happened in recent weeks with Peak Notions is the kind of situation most writers are led to believe simply cannot come to pass. Until quite recently, that is. It isn’t how the market works. It isn’t how people engage online. It won’t succeed. Yet here we are together, growing this weird lovely thing, disproving assumptions and treating one another with decency. Spilling our oranges and laughing about it.

Here I am on a new continent where I know just three people and a vaguely hostile cat whose passport I paid for, appreciating this miraculous connection with countless people all over the world. It has transformed the experience of emigrating. Peak Notions is read in a hundred and eleven countries (hello to the one subscriber in Myanmar - I hope you’re well). I am reassured by the community that has built up here. Frankly, it makes the lonely act of moving across the world feel anything but.

There isn’t much I can say to acknowledge the enormity of this, except thank you. I’m very grateful that you’ve chosen to spend some time here when we live in a world (and an internet) characterised by endless choice.

I’m offering 20% off annual paid subscriptions until Friday September 8th. This will gain you access to audio versions of the column and bonus articles, the weekly Substack app chat, the Peak Notions Book Club signup sheet, the full archive, and bonus content as and when I share it. If you value Peak Notions, share it with friends, feel enriched by it, use it as fodder for family dinner table debates, or just want to support its creation, a paid subscription is the best possible way of doing so. If you want to avail of the discount, your annual subscription will remain at this price, even if I increase prices in future.

The system we have here works well. Paid subscribers keep the weekly column free and subsidise access for everyone. As always, if you’d like to support Peak Notions and to access a paid subscription but just aren’t in a position to support my work financially right now, don’t worry. Just email me. I’ll comp you a subscription no questions asked.

She’ll steal your man

Thank you for supporting Peak Notions, paid or unpaid! Every subscription, share and word of mouth mention keeps Mabel in the dry food she loves so much and, far less importantly, reassures me that writing for a living is a slightly less insane and impossible idea than I’d thought.