If technology becomes a tyrant, she ousts it

Unlike some of the people she discovered in researching her book, Fox doesn't totally reject technology.

"The idea is not to give up something just to give it up," Fox explains. "It's to give it up to get something better. I'm not for self-denial for its own sake. I'm for finding a better life, a more enjoyable and pleasant life."

In a sense, Fox wrote her book to show those resistant to today's technology - from "back-to-the-landers"to environmentalists - that they come from a rich tradition. She doesn't expect them to raise their hammers against machines, but simply to express a preference.

"The idea is not that one has to be pure and live in a mud hut," she explains. "The idea is one can pick and choose, that one does have choices."

How to exercise these choices sometimes involves walking a fine line. Take doing the laundry, for example.

Fox abstains from using a mechanical clothes dryer, since the sun and wind can do the job naturally, and line-drying encourages her to see what the day's like.

"There's something about the fact that I have to cope with this reality of weather and my need for clean clothing and figure out a way to do that that makes life more interesting to me," she concludes.

On the other hand, she considers a washing machine worth holding onto. Why? Because washing takes exertion either way, and modern washers, like the old ringer models, still rely on the same basic process - sloshing stuff around.

Such pragmatism enters Fox's thinking in other ways. She owns what she calls a "generic car," a no-frills VW Jetta with standard transmission.

She's not convinced, though, that cars provide the ultimate in freedom, especially considering what people pay to buy them and keep them on the road. It's a form, she says, of modern technological tyranny.

Both Fox's residence and workplace reflect her values. Her bookshop has no cash register, only a cash drawer. The lighting is incandescent, not fluorescent. The counters and display cases, which are worn, are all made of wood. The only plastic is the kind customers flash, and Fox completes the transaction by calling in their credit card numbers.

Her home frequently elicits visitor comments such as, "Oh, it's so cozy. It feels so good. It feels so lived in."

It's also simple. Her kitchen contains no microwave oven or any of the usual small appliances. In their place are simpler, manual gadgets like a hand coffee grinder and a heavy, cast-iron griddle for cooking pancakes.

What the home lacks in modern decor and conveniences it offers in simple, useful objects, possessions and handicrafts that express what Fox calls a transference of love to those who visit.

In making her choices, Fox takes up some of the points author Wendell Berry makes about buying new tools. He likes a tool that is better, cheaper, and more energy-efficient than the one it replaces. Fox says she also likes to consider whether they are enduring, nontoxic, and recyclable.

But what's most important is that people control how tools are used.

In the case of her television, for example, she tunes in only when there's a compelling reason. She watched war coverage from Iraq until, after several days, she felt she'd had enough. And she never uses her computer for aimless e-mail chatting.

In looking at any technology, Fox believes it's important to step back and ask who's in charge: person or machine? If the latter, some rethinking may be necessary.

To illustrate, she cites an experience a group of Amish families had trying the telephone. When placed in the kitchen, it led to gossip and wasted time. To make phones more productive, the phones were moved into the fields, where a person could call into town to ask about a wagon part, but did so standing, exposed to the elements. This enforced a certain discipline.

Fox says with admiration, "That's really controlling technology."

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