Sunday, September 19, 2010

Welcome to the World Wide Web

Chances are you haven’t had much experience navigating the various kinds of spaces that have begun cropping up in what is increasingly being referred to as “the Internet.” It will be helpful, then, for you to think of this space as a sort of library, or maybe a city. Or a circulatory system.

Maybe a superhighway? It is hard to believe that in just eight years since its original printing, “our long-term cognitive abilities” have, in fact, caught up with “the immediate paradigm shifts underway between print and electronic sources.” We do not need to “rely on imagined geographies from the physical world to describe and comprehend complex discursive spaces.” Or if we do, we certainly don’t think about it and don’t need an article to tell us how. In fact, I think it is more likely that our students would rely on imagined spaces from the Internet to describe complex geographies in the real world. Sidler’s article maintains that the Internet is a confusing place that cannot be understood without relying on metaphors of the real world, which I think is somewhat outdated.

The other article from Computers in the Composition Classroom shows its age less, despite being written earlier. However the authors are somewhat vague about everything, and their discussion of web literacy could fairly easily be transposed to any other sort of literacy. Perhaps that is the point. But I think they miss some opportunities to discuss the interesting new things going on with the Internet, particularly in their discussion of the interplay between text and image, which they keep hinting at but never really say anything about. All of their examples in this section involve only images, not text.

Johndan Johnson-Eilola’s article is perhaps the most interesting, if only for the unusual ideas it presents. He stresses that all texts are intertextual, and that it is impossible to write without referencing some other written work. He moves to a discussion of Intellectual Property law, and then to the somewhat startling conclusion that databases and search engines should be considered texts.

I was initially (and, I suppose, still am) hesitant to accept this. Just because texts are, in a sense, a collection of other texts doesn’t mean that all collections of texts are themselves a text. Or does it? I think my problem here is that a traditional text is created with a certain amount of authorship. The writer collects various texts for a purpose. The creator of a search engine, however, simply creates an algorithm that allows a computer to search through a huge variety of texts and find certain words and phrases. The only real “authorship” here is the ability to privilege certain types of connection between search terms, and that is questionable at best.

Weinberger would probably like this idea of search engines as text, since he goes nuts for anything remotely “miscellaneous.” But I think it is this very - and I apologize in advance for this one - miscellaneity that causes search engines to be different enough that to analyze them in the same way as an intentionally composed text implies similarities that do not exist. Instead of lumping these two things together, we should be investigating them as separate, if somewhat related, entities.

7 comments:

  1. Matt,
    I appreciate your challenge to the idea of search engines as texts. Even if the case for such texts can be made, and I think it can, there are productive reasons to resist or at least analyze the definitions we are using to lump “automatic, contingent rhetorics” with “intentionally composed texts,” as you defined them (Johnson-Eilola, 220). Of course, as I make this argument, I have to wonder if I am exercising a rational mind or letting the Dewey-Linnaeus seep from my subconscious.

    Johnson-Eilola’s describes network texts as “symbolic-analytic collages” (222). Can this definition of text be applied to individual pieces of work generated by students in our classrooms? If we consider the idea of truly autonomous authorship dead, as he suggests, then maybe it can. But I would argue that any general definition of text that encompasses network text must also be able to applied to the whole group. Is that reasonable? Does it expose, on my part, a bias against what Sidler calls “disembodied text” (351)? Does it belie a archaic, romantic notion of intellectual property, as Johnson-Eilola suggests (203)? Maybe.

    I thought the use of Derrida in the discussion of writing as architecture is significant to this discussion. I was recently talking to a contractor who was bemoaning the evolution of construction in the last 40 or so years. For political and economic reasons not to be discussed here, homes are built differently now, and some would argue that the average track home is constructed without personal responsibility on the part of the builder or concern for its material longevity. Realtors in Pullman talk about the Johnson-built houses of the 1960’s, with their attention to detail and structural integrity. It seems that those two qualities, attention and integrity, are significantly tied to the name of the builder. Can trends in construction tell us anything about “authorship”? Are credentials relevant in the third order of order? Sorapure’s example of the Van Gogh painting and the importance of context, poses an important question for me when thinking about social authoring and network texts (342). As she argues, and as we have continued to discuss in class, it is the job of technology users, and particularly teachers, to consider the “effects of the medium on the message” (334). Does the medium affect the message in ways significant enough for us to separate (as you suggest) these different writings and investigate them as “somewhat related [but ultimately different] entities”?

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  2. Matt, your apprehension is understandable.

    Pinning down an author can be a tricky thing, especially regarding multimedia texts. For example, in the case of music recording, several hands likely have major creative impacts on the finished product, even if only four or five people get writing credit. Producers these days (as I guess they always have, really) often play enormous roles in shaping the music. Without Alan Parsons, Pink Floyd’s *Dark Side of the Moon* would’ve sounded much different. The same notions apply to film—lots of hands, nor a well-defined singular author—and yet we as a discipline still see those as texts.

    I guess it could be useful to see databases as texts in the sense that they carry their own political and intellectual implications, even if they’re implicit. In a way, they’re sort of like information mix-tapes. On the other hand, who do we hold responsible for those implications, and can we appropriately gauge them without knowing? Often we can only guess at the motivations for some items being nested/tagged/linked with one another. Part of this information is evident, no doubt, in the structure of the database itself. But once we delve deeper into a database’s content, the matter becomes more complex.

    Johnson-Eilola’s assertion that all texts are intertextual is almost a truism. Not even a single word in a language can stand on its own without other words to describe it. I’d like to think that authorship manifests from perspective, since we really can’t go around inventing brand new languages every time we have an “original” thought. Tolkien tried, but very few people who read his work are familiar with these languages (and English is prime amongst those anyway). Even with multiple authors, unique perspectives can still blend. However, it seems especially challenging to interpret a text with *no* known authors and little context. We have to be cautious as to how far we extend our interpretive lenses. Though I suppose this caution should be applied, though in different degrees, to any text.

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  3. The "author" of a search engine seems to be the person who enters the search query. Someone obviously has to create the structure, but they have no control over what it ends up looking like.

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  4. I share some of your concerns about the reading. I think it is strange to call a database or a search engine a text. It seems nothing more to me than a vessel through which a person can acquire texts. I still don't really understand the argument behind that, actually. It's quite puzzling to me.

    I do, however, wonder if we're all as technologically advanced as it seems you think we are when you write that we no longer need real world metaphors to understand/navigate the internet. Certainly, many people would agree with you because they do not need them. But I fear that, as Banks and Selfe and Selfe would also argue, that we're missing crucial voices when we assume that everyone is on board with this digital world. Not everyone is, or at least, that's what the readings in week 4 were trying to tell us - that not everyone is a part of this world. And when you say that our students might instead need tech/digital metaphors to understand the real world, I ask - what student is this? I think we must be weary to assume that our students all come with the same set of skills.

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  5. I am weary too.

    How many of your students use Facebook?

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  6. I'm intrigued by this idea:

    "In fact, I think it is more likely that our students would rely on imagined spaces from the Internet to describe complex geographies in the real world."

    In some ways I agree, in some ways I'm not sure. I do think the Internet has become second nature to a lot of folks, but I also believe that just because a lot of folks use it doesn't mean they quite understand how it works. I actually find that w/ each new group of DTC students, they know less and less about how the machine works. It's incredibly challenging to get students to understand things like servers, public folders, how web sites talk to each other, etc. It's like I'm speaking a foreign language to them. YET they use the spaces. So, I dunno....I see a huge gap between literacy of use, and literacy of the machine. It's like driving a car. Most of them know how, but I bet they couldn't find the alternator, much less replace it.

    Do you agree w/ me? If so, do you think this distinction matters? (i'm not sure honestly, and would be curious to know what you think)

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  7. This seems to bring back the ideas we discussed when we read Foucault. If we don't understand how the computer (panopticon) works, do we have control? I'm not sure. I think we can separate knowing how the machine works from understanding how we use the machine. At some level it is important to know that someone created it, but once we have it we can use it and understand its use within the digital spaces we create. We can be literate in the web without being literate in the actual workings of the computer.

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