Hi, I'm Jason.

Buffalo, New York. Two kids. I switched to a smaller phone in 2022 and I write down what worked and what didn't.

The first one

Jason as a teenager taking a mirror selfie in a tiled bathroom, the original iPhone held up in one hand and a peace sign in the other
me with the original iPhone, being a loser

I watched Steve Jobs unveil the iPhone live in January 2007 and I could not wait. I was on my parents' family plan at the time, so I went off on my own to Cingular, which was the only carrier that had it, just to get one. There was no App Store yet. There were no apps in the sense anyone means now. What there was, was Mobile Safari, the whole internet in your pocket with a screen you could pinch, and that was my way in. I never looked back, and for about fifteen years I didn't want to.

I say this so you know I'm not writing from the outside. I loved that phone. I loved most of the ones after it. Nothing here comes from someone who never got it.

The in-between generation

Jason in sunglasses with Toby, a curly-haired dog, shot on black and white film
me and Toby

Millennials landed at an odd spot in the timeline. I went through high school with a basic flip phone, dial-up at home, and a social internet that was mostly a buddy list. Then the connected world arrived while we were coming of age, and we grew up with it in real time. Our parents were already adults with formed habits when the smartphone showed up. The kids after us have never known a room without one. We're the only group that remembers both sides clearly, which makes us a kind of control group, and it means the question "what was it like before" has an answer we can give.

The answer, for what it's worth, is that before was slower and I was more bored and I read more and I was more often exactly where I was. That is roughly what this site is about.

Why I switched

My son was born in 2020 and my daughter in 2022, and somewhere in there I noticed that I was checking messages, likes and email constantly, and that a lot of the moments I thought I was capturing I wasn't in. I was taking photos of my kids more than I was looking at them. Those blink-and-you'll-miss-them years were going by on the other side of a screen.

Jason holding a small film camera in front of a graffiti wall
exploring new hobbies

So I bought a Light Phone II. It was one of the better decisions I've made. The first weeks were strange: long runs with no music, waiting rooms with nothing to look at. Then it got good. I picked up 35mm film photography. I read more and wrote more. The runs without headphones turned into something close to meditation.

What a phone is

This took me longest to see. A smartphone is fifteen objects that used to live in different drawers, glued together and sold as one. That's the whole trick. You pull it out to check the time and the other fourteen things come with it: the inbox, the news, the feed, the game, the store. You can't use one without being offered all of them. Every check is a lobby with fifteen doors.

Downgrading is un-gluing. You give each job back to a thing that does only that job. Some of those things cost twenty dollars and some you already own. A few you'll find you don't need at all. This is how it shook out for me, in a pile on the desk.

An old everyday carry laid out on a wooden table: an e-ink phone, a Punkt keypad phone, an iPod, a steel watch, a wallet with keys, a Contax film camera on two photography books

The parts that are hard

Anyone who tells you this is painless is selling a phone. Some things are harder on a small phone, and a few are close to impossible because the world has quietly decided everyone has a smartphone. I'd rather you know them going in. This is my list, and what I do about each.

Which brings me to the confession most of us make eventually: I keep a backup. Right now my daily setup is the dumb.co Dumbphone 2 paired with an iPhone Air that stays home or in a bag for the handful of things above that still need an app. I'm not a purist about it. Some weeks the iPhone wins. The backup has a real cost, and the cost is that every day you have to decide again whether to carry it. If you can live without one, you'll find the whole thing easier. If you can't, put it somewhere inconvenient and make it an old, slow one.

Why willpower loses

I tried the moderate route first. Screen time limits, gray screens, apps deleted on Sunday and reinstalled by Wednesday. I'm a fairly disciplined person and I lost every round, and I've come to think that's the expected result. The thing in your pocket was built by very good engineers to be picked up, and you are not going to out-discipline a budget that size. The alternatives page exists because those steps help, and I'd try them first. But a smaller phone is a different kind of move: one decision instead of a thousand small ones a day, and it stops the argument you keep having with yourself.

If you've set rules and broken them, that's the product working as designed. The research page has what the studies say, caveats and all.

What I do with the time

An open pocket notebook with directions written out by hand, exit numbers and street names down one page, and a daisy drawn on the other

People ask what I do with the time, as if the point were to fill it. A lot of it I fill with nothing. I sit on the porch. I stand in a line and think about dinner. I do read more and I do take better photos, and the things to do page is a list of what I tried. Treat it as options. The hours you get back don't owe anyone anything. The change I notice is that I'm present for more of my own life, including the boring parts, and the boring parts turn out to be where the good ideas were hiding.

Since then

A few years and a lot of phones later, I've used most of what's in the database at one time or another. These are the ones I've lived with for more than a month.

The ideas underneath

Two movements shaped how I think about this. The Slow movement, which grew out of Carlo Petrini's 1986 protest against a McDonald's opening at the Spanish Steps in Rome, argues for doing fewer things at a pace where you can taste them. It's where this club takes its name. Essentialism, Greg McKeown's name for the disciplined pursuit of less, argues for cutting the trivial many to make room for the vital few. A dumbphone is a small, physical way to practice both. It forces you to decide what you need from the thing in your pocket.

Privacy is part of it too. A phone that can't run apps collects a great deal less about you, and that's a quieter kind of freedom that I've come to value more each year. It's also why this site runs no trackers and why signing in, if you ever want to rate a phone, is a code sent to your email and nothing else.

How I keep the data honest

Every phone in the database has a list of sources and a last-checked date. Where I couldn't confirm a spec from the manufacturer, the field says unknown rather than guessing. Prices drift, and I fix them when I notice. Nothing here is sponsored: no maker has paid to be in the database, to be left out of it, or to have a word of their entry written a particular way. I am in three affiliate programs: Light's, on the buy link for the three Light phones, Amazon Associates, on the Amazon link where a phone or a book is sold there, and Bookshop.org's, on the reading list. Each of those links is labeled where it appears, buying through one costs you nothing extra, and none of them has any bearing on what an entry says or on the fact that phones and books I think are better sit next to the ones that pay. Reviews from other owners are read by a person before they show, and the first thing I check is whether the reviewer sounds like they've held the phone. If you spot an error, or you make a phone that should be listed, email me at hello@slowerliving.club, or use the suggestion form at the bottom of the database.

Questions I get

Jason B