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This is my starter reading list for the next draft of I, Reader in 2010. Recommendations most welcome.

Battles, Matthew (2003). Library: An unquiet history. W.W. Norton.

Borges, Jorge Luis (2000). The library of Babel. David R. Godine.

Brand, Stewart (2006). From counterculture to cyberculture: Stewart Brand, the Whole Earth Network, and the rise of digital utopianism. University of Chicago Press.

Buzbee, Lewis (2008). The yellow-lighted bookshop: A memoir, a history. Graywolf.

D’Angelo, Ed (2006). Barbarians at the gates of the public library: How postmodern consumer capitalism threatens democracy, civil education and the public good. Library Juice Press.

Darnton, Robert (2009). The case for books: Past, present and future. Public Affairs.

Dehaene, Stanislas (2009). Reading in the brain: The science and evolution of a human invention. Viking.

Doctorow, Cory (2009). Makers. Tor.

Engard, Nicole, C. (2009). Library mashups: Exploring new ways to deliver library data. Information Today.

Hoover Bartlett, Allison (2009). The man who loved books too much: The true story of a thief, a detective, and a world of literary obsession. Riverhead.

Lanier, Jaron (2010). You are not a gadget. Knopf.

Piper, Andrew (2009). Dreaming in books: The making of the bibliographic imagination in the romantic age. University of Chicago Press.

Vaidhyanathan, Siva (2004). The anarchist in the library: How the clash between freedom and control is hacking the real world and crashing the system. Basic Books.

Wilson, Daniel H. (2005). How to survive a robot uprising: Tips on defending yourself against the coming rebellion. Bloomsbury.

Wright, Thomas (2009). Built of books: How reading defined the life of Oscar Wilde. Henry Holt.

Also some yet to be chosen material by Foucault and a good overview of critical theory.

Any recommendations?

Title and subtitle

The series was entitled, I, Reader, an allusion to Isaac Asimov’s book, I, Robot, a popular collection of short stories that dealt with many of the conflicts that arise between people and their technology. The series was organized into eight themes. I noticed that the writing of a particular theme often seemed to suggest a new title for the series. For example, when writing the Creative Reading theme, I briefly changed the series title to the same name. A similar phenomenon was noticed when writing other themes, but I decided to maintain the original title.

Each of the themes was also considered for a subtitle to the series. The currently favoured subtitle, and the one displayed at this blog, does not come from any of the themes. The current subtitle is Bibliophilia and Its Discontents. It is a nod to Ellen Ullman’s book, Close to the machine: Technophilia and Its Discontents. Her book and the current book concept both explore a deep, even compulsive relationship with an activity. In her case it is technology not reading, but the current work also reflects on the offerings and limitations of technology.

Chapter 1: Robots and readers

Chapter one uses the metaphor of robot to consider possible conflicts between readers and technology. Deep reading is often considered to be a very human activity, using print books, reflecting at length in a quiet environment such as a library. Reading on the web seems like a very different activity, briefly scanning large quantities of information snippets, frequently distracted by links or message notifications. It is an activity that seems better suited to machines. This chapter asks whether both kinds of reading will continue, or if deep reading is on the way out? Does technology diminish the reader, or does it shed new light on what it means to be a reader? In contrast to that line of questioning, does it make any sense to ask if advanced technology, robots, will one day wish to read books? This final question is asked again at the end of the book.

Chapter 2: Creative reading

The impact of technology on literacy is often assessed in reference to skill development among children and teens. Other insights can be gained by looking at effects on adults with advanced literacy skills. The impact may be most evident when comparing web scanning to slow reading. These skills are variously called serious reading, deep reading or slow reading. For current purposes, the book uses the term, creative reading. The concept of creative reading suggests an art form, not excluding innovations with technology. Two trajectories of creative reading are considered. A reader can develop a deeper relationship with him or herself, or extend into the world by “thinking with the minds of others”. The web is suited to sharing books and reading insights with others. The concept of creative reading begins to dissolve the perceived boundary between readers and their technology.

Chapter 3: Books that change the reader

In the blog series, I wrote about 50 books that changed me. For the next draft, I am not certain if I will talk about books that changed me, or generalize the idea for broader interest. In any case, this chapter will bring home the idea that creative reading is essential in the development of self, identity, and social relations. It is observed that creativity often involves some risk, and sometimes rule breaking. Creative reading is no different. Changing up traditional reading patterns with novel uses of technology is one such risk.

Chapter 4: The information quake

The landscape of reading changed dramatically with the advent of the digital technology, making it easier and cheaper to publish print books. At the same time, the web offered digital publication, an easy way for anyone to publish anything they liked to the world. The quantity of information available keeps accelerating. At times it seems that technology is overwhelming us with information. Our reading patterns have changed. The reading we do in books is quite different that what we do on the web. We tend to scan snippets on the web, jumping from one to the next. Our brains were never hard-wired to read; we have re-purposed neuronal circuitry for that purpose. As our reading habits change with the web, it follows that so do our neural pathways. To the surprise of some, it appears that a degree of quality can emerge given sufficient quantity of information.

Chapter 5: Birth of the reader-writer

Reading often leads to writing. Until recently, readers could write personal journals, create ‘kitchen’ or vanity publications, or go the long and arduous route of traditional print publishing. Today, the web provides a creative writing outlet for readers who might never have taken pen to paper. Writing has traditionally been a solitary activity, but on the web writing is a social event. Readers may not find a large following, but it satisfies their need to share their thoughts about what they have read. Literary scholars have talked about the death of the author and the birth of the reader, the shift in literary analysis from revering the author’s intentions to an interest in the reader’s interpretation of a work. The web further breaks down the old walls around authors. Readers interact with authors through blogs, providing feedback even as a new book is being written. The reader is an agent in the writing process. This transition may be called the birth of the reader-writer. It is a shift in the identity of a reader.

Chapter 6: Birth of the reader-hacker

Early visions of computers suggested that one day they would think for us. Few people talk about artificial intelligence these days. The latest trend in computing, Web 2.0, is all about harnessing the intelligence of people because the programs are unable to do it for us. The web appears to be a friendly place for readers, and readers are responding by transforming the web to serve and enrich their reading experiences. This transition is another shift in the identity of the reader, and may be called the birth of the reader-hacker. Readers with all levels of technical skill are finding innovative ways to discover titles, share their thoughts, and read on-line. Readers use the web to find books in libraries, and share print books with other readers. The web is displacing a certain amount of traditional print, but to a large degree, the web is being used to enhance the reading of print books.

Innovation often entails breaking rules, and reading on the web is no different. Readers still care about access to information and censorship, and are fighting these battles on the web through mechanisms such as peer-to-peer file sharing, not only of music but books as well. Creative reading is not dying, only becoming more complex. This perspective suggests another identity shift of reader as outlaw.

Chapter 7: The end of the web

Digital technology at its most basic is about ones and zeros, on and off switches. All sane systems require downtime. There is an end to how much the digital technology and the web can enrich reading. Quantity of information does not fully translate to quality. Print culture better served many important reading values, such as an absence of distraction, private reflection and corresponding development of self, and copyright protection. Rather than the “always on, always connected” vision of web enthusiasts, it is suggested that downtime is vital for our well-being. The “end of the web” is about the limits of the web.

Chapter 8: The book on fire (working theme title swiped from Keith Miller’s wonderful book I am currently reading)

Chapter one of I, Reader asked whether deep reading and scanning can both continue, or if deep reading is on the way out. It asked if technology diminishes the reader, or if it instead sheds new light on what it means to be a reader?

The subtitle of this book is Bibliophilia and Its Discontents. The book is a reconciliation of reading in the traditional sense with the disruptions caused by technology. An initial resistance to change is yielding to fascinating insights about books, reading, technology, and the identity of the reader. A pivotal observation is that digital books rarely replace print books, but instead enrich the reading experience. The lowered bar to publishing may mean too many books of low quality, but also an increased likelihood that a book exists for even a narrow subject of interest. The presence of books online makes it easier to find titles of interest. Digital books provide connections for further exploration of a book after reading it print. Print with its fixity is still the superior technology for deep reading, while the dynamic nature of digital technology sets the book on fire for other reading purposes. The two kinds of reading complement each other

The book is not only a static thing, and neither is the reader. It could be said that the reader is not a robot, but that is not exactly accurate. The book shows how the reader is creatively adapting the web to serve the purposes of deep reading. How is it that the reader can do this? It is a philosophical and metaphysical question. We too have a technological nature, suited to extension. In the final analysis, it is not so much that technology will diminish or replace us, but rather that we as technological beings will continue to extend and create ourselves. Rather than asking if technology will diminish readers, it makes more sense to ask if advanced technology will one day wish to read books. Will robots read? We already do.

“We too are machines, just machines of a different type.” — Jean Luc Picard, ST: TNG, The Measure of a Man

The intent of the I, Reader series was to explore the connections between reading and web participation. The series used Asimov’s I, Robot as a starting point because his short stories raise many timeless issues that arise at the collision point of people and technology. People fear that technology will ultimately replace them. In practice, people use technology to extend themselves in many activities, including reading. On the web, one finds readers becoming writers and hackers, creatively shaping the web to serve their reading needs, rather than being subjected to it. They also have the ability to walk away from it, shutting off technology to return to the stillness of traditional reading. One might be tempted to think that people control technology, that technology will never replace us.

How is it that people extend themselves with technology at all? The I, Reader series has shown how writing and hacking are extensions of reading. Reading itself is an extension of mind. Our brains were never wired for reading. We have re-purposed neural circuitry for it. But what is mind an extension of? Self, maybe. Keep going. What is self an extension of? Nature? God? I do not wish to open a metaphysical debate, only assert that we too are extensions. We are a type of technology, each of us a soul in a tin can, not so different from robots. It is not so much that technology will replace us, but rather that we as technological beings will continue to extend and create ourselves. That does not sound fearful.

What of soul or spirit or consciousness? I, Reader has explored how reading is a creative act, extending the reader beyond self to the discovery of others. Reading on the web is a social event: learning from others, sharing one’s thoughts, breaking rules, risking criticism. It is evidence of a vital spirit. Seeking proof of consciousness in humans or robots? Look to their reading habits.

Do robots read?

I started this series with Asimov’s I, Robot. I will conclude it with another classic collection of short stories, Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles. Robots and aliens are both outsiders. Bradbury tells stories about a troubled future earth and the colonization of Mars. In the final story, “The Million Year Picnic”, a father takes his family to Mars, promising his boys they will see Martians.

“I’ve always wanted to see a Martian,” said Michael.
“Where are they, Dad? You promised.”
“There they are,” said Dad, and he shifted Michael on his shoulder and pointed straight down.
The Martians were there. Timothy began to shiver.
The Martians were there – in the canal – reflected in the water. Timothy and Michael and Robert and Mom and Dad.
The Martians stared back up at them for a long, long silent time from the rippling water ….

Do robots read? Yes, I do.

In Ruined by Reading: A Life in Books, Lynne Sharon Schwartz tells how her attention was caught by a piece in the New York Times by

a Chinese scholar whose “belief in Buddhism … has curbed his appetite for books.” Mr Cha says, “To read more is a handicap. It is better to keep your own mind free and not let the thinking of others interfere with your own free thinking.” … Lying in the shadow of books, I brood on my reading habit. What is it all about? What am I doing it for? And the classic addict’s question, What is it doing for me? … Buddhism aside, there is no Reader’s Anonymous, so far, to help curb this appetite.

I confess I am a book addict. My habit is kept to a minimum by the slowness of my preferred reading speed, a few pages at a time, with at least minutes for reflection in between, and an insistence on writing something about what I have read before moving on to the next book. It is like a smoker who cannot physically handle much nicotine, and so only smokes a few cigarettes a day. But while I’m being honest, I do scan vast quantities of information every day online; I just keep forgetting to count that as reading. Typical addict.

In Slow Reading, I reviewed the research by Ross (2006) in which avid readers find reading a happy surrender, transporting him or her to another place. Nell’s (1988) research on “ludic” or pleasure reading indicates that some readers may experience an altered state of consciousness. Is it a high? I still experience this altered state, though I am convinced that my best experience of it was reading as a child, when purpose and time did not matter. Am I still chasing that first reading high? Sounds like trouble.

Addictions are a kind of self-programming, a robotic response. Would an enlightened mind be free of books? Have you seen the movie version of The Razor’s Edge, with Bill Murray in one of his few serious roles? After spending time in a monastery, he is sent to spend time meditating alone on a mountain. A monk gives him his books to take along. One day, he becomes enlightened and burns his books.

Is my reading simply an addiction? Buddhism and its theme of freedom from attachment speaks to me too, so I think about it. Perhaps reading is an addiction, but not simply. If I ask myself Schwartz’s question, “What is it doing for me?”, I can easily answer, quite a bit. I know what addictions are like. Seven years ago I quit a twenty year smoking habit. I have not looked back; I pity the poor smokers. While reading does share some of the compulsive nature of addictions, it builds me up rather than breaks me down. I wake up feeling a bit better off rather than worse off. I do not wish that I had never started reading, and I encourage my kids to take it up. Reading is a sister of thinking, and for that we humans are hard-wired.

Perhaps when I am old and grey, I will be wise enough to transcend reading, but not today.

Nell, V. (1988). Lost in a book: The psychology of reading for pleasure. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

Ross, C.S., McKechnie, L. (E.F.) & Rothbauer, P.M. (2006). Reading matters: What the research reveals about reading, libraries, and community. Westport, CT: Libraries Unlimited.

The I, Reader series has wrestled with opposites. Robot vs person, print vs digital, self vs other, quantity vs quality, on vs off. Opposites are a hallmark of Western rational thought (as Mark commented). Other approaches may be helpful.

One, it can be valuable to simply reflect on opposites, koan-like, without making any effort to resolve them.

Two, we can reject the opposites, and look for synthesis.

In discussions of reading, one common dichotomy is that of print versus digital technology. The common view is that digital technology will replace print. For example, e-book readers will replace print books. I find this view strange, not because I have any sentimental attachment to print, but rather that it contradicts my observation that print books are often better for reading anything of length or substance. We can move toward synthesis by recognizing that print and books are both technologies. Print and digital are just different formats, serving different purposes. The contradiction between the two formats exists only on the surface.

I will go one step further. In the common view, print is regarded as an analog technology, and computers a digital technology. What exactly does it mean to be digital? It has something to do with digits, of course. Well, my fingers are digits, and they are involved with reading the pages of print books. Digital also refers to the use of discrete values rather than a continuous range, e.g., a digital clock displays numbers only whereas an analog clock uses arms that move in circles. Well, both the clock and the print book display discrete values. A clock shows discrete numbers, and a print book shows discrete letters. (The continuous representations are surplus value, begging the question of which medium provides more information.) A more precise definition of the term, digital, might refer to the binary basics of computers, with bits being on or off. Well, if one looks closely at print letters, one sees that they are dots. A letter is built from a collection of binary on and off ink dots. It seems difficult to sustain the usual dichotomy between analog and digital books.

Three, we can allow for oscillation, one polar view or state eventually becoming the other, ultimately returning to the first, yin-yang fashion. I think of this process as a two-step dance. In the long run, it seems more productive.

Bibliophiles alert, if you have not discovered Keith Miller’s The Book of Flying, stop what you are doing and go get a copy. It is irresistible; I previously wrote a short tribute. Miller ran across it, and commented that his second book, The Book on Fire has been published. I am currently reading it. It is a mythology, fantasy and fetish of books, reading and the Library of Alexandria. Some quotes fit wonderfully with my current theme:

And slowly I arrived at a realization so startling I was almost afraid to believe it. I found, as I moved through this subterranean forest, that I could imagine a book, known or unknown, read or unread, and be certain of the path I would have to take to find it. … We all have titles, questions swept like sodden leaves into the corners of our minds, that we have little hope will ever be answered or solved, but that we cannot get rid of. Suddenly, I found myself in the orchard of answers.

For a time, I wondered if I would simply stay here forever, reading, sampling the delicacies, hiding from the librarians — the ghost of the Library of Alexandria, a reformed thief in paradise. And I wondered what would become of my soul if I chose that path. … Would I start to resemble a book myself?

We become the things we use, books, technology. I will return to this idea before I’m done.

The adventures of Bilbo Baggins did not end with his famous good-bye to his friends and relatives at his eleventy-first birthday party. Nor did they end in the final chapter of Lord of the Rings. He sailed off with Frodo and Gandalf and the elves into the Grey Havens. Stories demand an ending, but if it has been a good story, are we ever content. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle finally killed off Sherlock Holmes, but at the insistence of his readers, resurrected him. Beyond endings, there is a grey zone, an esoteric or mystical domain, where events defy logic. So too, after the Offworld posts, I have one more theme to offer.

In The Key: How to Write Damn Good Fiction Using the Power of Myth, James Frey uses Joseph’s Campbell’s insight that myth is the heart of story telling. If there is a mythology in I, Reader, it is like Frey’s description of the hero. Once upon a time, there was a reader living comfortably in his or her world of books, not so different from Bilbo in his hobbit hole. The world changes. Digital technology comes knocking on the door, throws a party. There is an information quake. The reader is compelled to go on a journey, to learn new hacker skills that change the meaning of reading. The reader returns home, but can never really go home. He or she has learned skills that can be used to help others, but change the way everything once looked.

Welcome to the final theme in the I, Reader series, that of Reading Mysticism. It is the least defined and most difficult theme, but it is one I must write. It attempts to fulfill the promise of the Blake poem I quoted early on, the end of the golden thread.

A key question I have been reflecting on is the target audience. It would be naive to think that everyone is interested, especially given my focus on things readerly and geeky. I also recognize that the value I place on offline time may not be shared by that group we call millennials, those who seem to be online all the time. I think my writings share my Generation X bias, a perspective old enough to predate mainstream digital technology, while young enough to be comfortable and adept with it. I think it’s fine to have a narrow target audience, especially given the trend to niche publishing. At the same time, I think Generation X provides a unique bridge between the two groups, so the book may have wider appeal for that reason.

Any thoughts on the interest group for I, Reader?

Every story deserves a good ending. It need not be a happy ending, but it should be a satisfying ending, providing a sense of completion. After his unexpected adventure in The Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins returned to Hobbiton, but the time came to say goodbye to his many friends and relatives. “Alas, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits.” Cheers abound. “I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.” Dead silence. No one is quite sure if they have been insulted. In the movie version, Gandalf the wizard smiles wryly. Bilbo uses his magic ring to disappear right in front of their eyes, ensuring his legacy as the strangest and most remarkable hobbit in the history of the Shire.

People like good endings in every story except their own, which many wish would go on forever. Futurists like Ray Kurzweil imagine that humans will merge with machines, thus gaining some form of immortality. On the opposite pole, back-to-the-lander Scott Nearing concluded at age 100, his health failing, that he had lived long enough. He chose to stop eating. It was an exceptional and dignified end (Related review).

We assume that human history will go on indefinitely. It is a human bias. Perhaps machine life will replace us as the dominant species one day. But why machines? We have other far more intelligent animal species on the planet. In Ishmael, Daniel Quinn writes of an ape who teaches his pupil critical lessons about humanity:

Man’s place is to be the first without being the last. Man’s place is to figure out how it’s possible to do that — and then to make some room for all the rest who are capable of becoming what he’s become. And maybe, when the time comes, it’s man place to be the teacher of all the rest who are capable of becoming what he’s become. Not the only teacher, not the ultimate teacher. Maybe only the first teacher, the kindergarten teacher — but even that wouldn’t be too shabby. (243, his emphasis)

Perhaps the human story will be shorter than we think, and maybe that is not such a bad thing. What sort of ending will that story have? Shall we resist that end as long as possible, or plan for ending with dignity?

Perhaps it’s just my own mid-life reflection. Maybe things will go on. After all, Bilbo’s story did not end with his goodbye. Nor did it conclude at the end of Lord of the Rings. He sailed off into the Grey Havens with Gandalf and company. Who knows.

PEOPLE

Batman is a creature of the night, just as much as Superman is citizen of the day. Batman vs. Superman. Who would win a fight? The comic book and movie makers have always promised to give us this battle. Superman is easily the physically superior one. How could Batman stand a chance? Batman must have a psychological edge of nearly equal power. There is a connection between Offworld and psychological depth.

Curmudgeons. Irritants. People who don’t absolutely love whatever new trend. Luddites protested the industrial revolution by throwing wrenches in the machine; it was an early form of culture jamming. Andrew Keene, author of Cult of the Amateur, seemed like a wet blanket in the midst of the Web 2.0 hype. Curmudgeons. We hate ‘em but we love ‘em. When the hype is over, they seem to make some sense.

PLACES

Your father’s library, the kind of library where silence was sought. It is a place where opposing ideas co-exist peacefully as books on a shelf. It’s a place where people with conflicting thoughts work quietly side-by-side at desks. Libraries are a place where unused books get weeded, a deliberate reduction in information to increase relevance.

Closets, bathrooms, bedrooms, basements and alleys are the places of Offworld, places where people can escape to hide, rest, read or think.

PRACTICES

Silence. Quakers practice silent worship. Wittgenstein wished to consign metaphysics to the flames. He had this famous line, though, that of which we cannot speak we should be silent. The Quakers would appreciate that.

Boredom. Some people tell me they are never bored. Why not? I ask. Maybe try seeking out boredom for a change. Make it your friend.

Total power shutdown. Power outages can be fun, like a camping trip, but then it gets a little scary. How come? We use energy around the clock. In most homes it is never off. Imagine shutting down every little bit of power consumption in your home, even the little lights in the DVD player. Imagine doing that every night. I think I would sleep better.

Culture jamming. Kalle Lasn is CEO of Adbusters Media Foundation, dedicated to tripping up consumerist culture. As Lasn puts it, “Advertising is brain damage“.

WRITING

Graham Greene wrote a short story, The Destructors. Destruction is required for creation.

Via negativa is a theology that describes the divine by negation, speaking only of that which may not or cannot be said about it. One of my favourite blogs is Dave Bonta’s Via Negativa.

I have a haphazard collection of back-to-the-land books. I doubt I will ever adopt the lifestyle; I just like reading the books.

The End of Night: Why We Need Darkness. This was the title of the November 2008 issue of National Geographic.

The End of Solitude. The title of an article by William Deresiewicz in The Chronicle.

TECHNOLOGY

An application called Freedom blocks your internet access for up to eight hours.