Showing posts with label libraries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label libraries. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Darnton's The Library: 3 Jeremiads + Brathwaite's Elegguas + National Book Foundation's New Reading Prize

Last spring I checked out from the university's library the esteemed Enlightenment historian and (Harvard University) librarian Robert Darnton's The Case for Books: Past, Present, and Future (New York: PublicAffairs, 2009) to gauge his arguments about the present and future state of the world of books and literature for my own edification and to preview it for a class. Darnton, one of the most important figures in his fields, has a gift for subtle argumentation and narration, and I ended up skimming the book, which replicated in longer and more polished form a number of the essays he has been publishing along these same lines in the New York Review of Books, for the last several years. Many concern the role of the computer behemoth Google, and its relationship to the publishing and library worlds, and he has also made a passionate case in the pages of the NYR for a national (which would also be an international) digital library, drawing from the resources of private libraries like the one he heads, public ones like the unmatched Library of Congress, and the trove of 7 million and counting books that Google has already scanned in, with the cooperation of institutions like Harvard and the New York Public Library, but also against the wishes of some publishers and authors, who successfully prosecuted a lawsuit to gain compensation from Google for copyright infringement.

In the current issue of the NYR, in "The Library: Three Jeremiads," Darnton returns to the arguments he has made before, but this time with a trio of "jeremiads," as he calls them, concerning three pressing economic and resource-related issues that American research libraries face which also negatively affect scholarly publishing; universities and college library collections, along with those of public libraries; library patrons, which is to say, readers; and, to a degree not yet fully understood, the humanities, intellectual life, and knowledge production themselves. The first two of Darnton's jeremiad's focus on the exorbitant cost and terms, verging on extortion, of subscriptions to scholarly journals, especially in the sciences, relative to other kinds of texts, which has forced libraries to cut their purchase of scholarly monographs, thus harming libraries' budgets and university presses' bottom lines. Over the longer haul, this economic problem, juxtaposed with constrained university and research library budgets, threatens the sustainability of the academic research enterprise as a whole.  To give a sense of the astronomical prices charged by some publishers, information about which many professors are completely unaware and which have far exceeded the cost of inflation, the chemistry journal Tetrahedron costs $39,082 per year, while The Journal of Comparative Neurology costs $27,465 per year, and both, like many journals from a given publisher, must be purchased in bundles, with high kill fees to end subscriptions for specific journals and so forth. Humanities and social science journals total less per year but are still high and part of this system, with the result that the average cost in 2009 of a US journal title was $2,031 and $4,753 for a non-US title, and that year the journal publishing giant Elsevier made $1.1 billion in profits.  Moreover, there is little transparency in this system, according to Darnton, giving the journal publishers an advantage over libraries, which, for the sake of the scholars they serve, cannot opt out.

Scholars and librarians have attempted to respond, with mixed reuslts.  In the case of the Mellon Foundation-funded Gutenberg-e program, which sought to publish digital monographs of award-winning PhD dissertations in scholarly areas under greatest threat, the potential was great but it did not work out as planned, and the project is now defunct; in the case of digital, open-access scientific journals, there has been some success after scientists at University of California-Berkeley and Stanford circulated a petition in 2001 calling for colleagues to patronize only these journals. The publisher BioMed Central, according to Darnton, has shown since 1999 that this model can work. But the larger question of the effects on libraries and particularly on the humanities and social sciences remains. Darnton had been holding out hope for the Compact for Open-Access Publishing Equity (COPE), founded this year, would lead universities towards the open-access model in terms of publishing, and also subsidize authors who could not get grants or subvention money from their home institutions, with the texts ultimately available in both digital and print form via the Espresso Book Machine, about which I've written on here. But, and this is the core of his third jeremiad, there loometh Google.


A 368-page "settlement" between Google and the authors and publishers who sued the company (the publisher of my first book was party to this agreement, as Annotations, I gather, was scanned without permission) divided up the profits produced by Google Book Search in a 1/3 fashion: Google would 37 percent and the authors and publishers would get 2/3rds. Fine. But, as a result of this, Google has proposed that libraries, some of which (like Harvard's) provided books for scanning free of charge, now pay a subscription fee to access Google's vast digital storehouse, which is now the largest digital library (and as recent announcements have shown, potentially the largest digital book retailer). Darnton's fear, quite reasonable given the history of such things, is that "cocaine pricing" will occur, which is to say, Google will start out with low subscription fees and then jack them up to unspeakable--unaffordable rates--once it has libraries and everyone else in its clutches.

Of course most people are completely unaware of all of this, both in terms of what's going on now and what could occur in the future. As he has in the past, Darnton is proposing a counterweight to Google, which is a National Digital Library, which would draw primarily upon the extraordinary collection of books, particularly those no longer under copyright or still in copyright but out of print, whose authors cannot be located, and so forth, belonging to the Library of Congress, but also from other vast library systems, like Harvard's.  Darnton points out that in December 2009, French President Nicolas Sarkozy announced that he would set aside €750 million (roughly $900 million dollars, correct?) to digitize France's "cultural 'patrimony,'" and notes that the national libraries of the Netherlands, Japan, Australia, Norway, and Finland are digitizing their complete collections, and that European nations in collective fashion will have digitized over 10 million texts, from libraries, archives, museums, and audiovisual stocks, by the end of 2010.  Darnton believes that Google has shown that for less than the cost Sarkozy appropriated, it is possible to digitize the Library of Congress's complete holdings, a good deal of which are already converted, but that Google itself might be persuaded to share--for free, with a great deal of praise--the 2 million or so materials in the public domain it digitized.  Even if Google does not participate, Darnton believes private foundations might be able to underwrite this project, especially if its costs were spread out over time, but he does not believe that a Digital Library of America would solve or resolve the interrelated and waxing crises research libraries, the scholarly profession, and journal publication face. Rather, this vast digital storehouse, freely available to all, might change the "ecology" (back?) toward the idea of the public good, or public common, but even if it didn't do so completely, it would be an important start.

===

Speaking of books and reading, I just noticed the other day that Kamau Brathwaite has published a new book of poems, Elegguas (Wesleyan University Press/UPNE, 2010).  Wesleyan's site says of the book

Elegguas—a play on “elegy” and “Eleggua,” the Yoruba deity of the threshold, doorway, and crossroad—is a collection of poems for the departed. Modernist and post-modernist in inspiration, Elegguas draws together traditions of speaking with the dead, from Rilke’s Duino Elegies to the Jamaican kumina practice of bringing down spirits of the dead to briefly inhabit the bodies of the faithful, so that the ancestors may provide spiritual assistance and advice to those here on earth. The book is also profoundly political, including elegies for assassinated revolutionaries like in the masterful “Poem for Walter Rodney.”

Throughout his poetry, Brathwaite foregrounds “nation-language,” that difference in syntax, in rhythm, and timbre that is most closely allied to the African experience in the Caribbean, using the computer to explore the graphic rendition of nuances of language. Brathwaite experiments using his own Sycorax fonts, as well as deliberate misspellings (“calibanisms”) and deviations in punctuation. But this is never simple surface aesthetic, rather an expression of the turbulence (in history, in dream) depicted in the poems. This collection is a stunning follow-up to Brathwaite’s Born to Slow Horses (Wesleyan, 2005), winner of the Griffin International Poetry Prize.
Kamau is, as it also notes, one of the major poets of the 2nd half of the 20th century, and one of the leading lights in Caribbean, African Diasporic and Anglophone poetry, and I would add without hesitation one of the most important experimental and political poets alive today.  This fall has brought a marvelous harvest of new books by marvelous poets, and this appears as if it surely is among this bounty.

===

Speaking of more books and reading, the National Book Foundation is sponsoring an Innovations in Reading Prize.  For whom and what is this?



For individuals, institutions, and collaborative programs using innovative approaches to successfully inspire a lifelong love of reading
2011 Innovations due date
POSTMARK DEADLINE: FEBRUARY 22, 2011

The complete application process is available in the Application Form.
  • PDF Application form to be filled out by hand and faxed or mailed to the Foundation. Download >
  • PDF Application form to be filled out on your computer using Adobe Acrobat and emailed to the Foundation. Download >
Innovations image 2011Each year, the National Book Foundation awards a number of prizes of up to $2,500 each to individuals and institutions--or partnerships between the two--that have developed innovative means of creating and sustaining a lifelong love of reading. In addition to promoting the best of American literature through the National Book Awards, the Foundation also seeks to expand the audience for literature in America. Through the Innovations in Reading Prizes, those individuals and institutions that use particularly innovative methods to generate excitement and a passionate engagement with books and literature will be rewarded for their creativity and leadership.

Questions? Contact the Foundation at 212.685.0261.
Sponsored by a generous grant from
Levenger Logo

Monday, May 31, 2010

Memorial Day + Anne Carson's Nox + My First Literary Agent, the Crack Addict + Gordimer on Books & Libraries

A listing of all the young women and men soldiers who've lost their lives in the Wars in Iraq and Afghanistan (CNN.com: US and Coalition Casualties)

A op-chart graphic on the dead and unknown dead in the US's wars, from today's New York Times, by Robert M. Poole and Rumors presents the country's military history in a metaphorically arresting, unforgettable way. (Cf. above, at right, and click on the link for the larger view.)

Finally, here's a Memorial Day post written by veteran and progressive Todd Theise, who's running against Democorporatist Scott Garrett in New Jersey's Fifth Congressional District.  (H/t Digby!)

* * *

Memorial Day concerns remembering, memorializing and, to some extent, grieving, which brings me to the lone book not associated with any aspect of my teaching, writing, committee work, or university visitors that I've managed to read over the last 3 months, and it took just an evening: poet and classical scholar Anne Carson's extraordinary new work, which I will not call a book of poetry, though it is a highly poetic book, Nox (New Directions, 2010). The book has been covered extensively around the Net, so I'll describe it in a few words: in the way that only Carson can, the book combines an elegy to her deceased brother (the dedication, to "Michael," is "Nox Frater Nox" (or Night Brother Night), and a record of her translation of a particularly difficult Catullus elegy, Poem 101, "Multas per gentes et multa per aequora vectus." She translates the opening line as "Many the peoples many the oceans I crossed," and the rest of this short poem, a little beyond halfway through the book, surrounding it with a variety of other texts. There's a method that's quickly discernible: on the left pages, she usually (but not always) places lexical entries for each word in the Catullus poem, and on the right side, she features journal entries, snippets of notes to herself, very brief poems, visual images by and of herself, and sometimes of her brother, her own artworks, or any of these elements in collaged combination.

In and of themselves, these aspects of the book, especially by a writer of genius like Carson, would make for a worthwhile read, but the real showstopper is the book's physical form. The designer Robert Currie assisted Carson in creating the sort of affordable book-as-art you rarely see today (and sadly, especially at a time when physical books are facing possible disappearance as digital technologies increasingly dominate). The pages are full color, at times nearly convincing you that you're looking at Carson's journals instead of photographs of them, and the entire book is printed in accordion fashion, as the photos below show, and then placed in a gray oystershell box, which serves as a perfect bed for the reader to flip through it and enjoy it. You can lift it out of its box, of course, like an oyster, and it expands like a bellows, but having handled it a bit, it works fine either way.  For weeks, as the pressure to get through mounds of fiction kept growing, I found myself stopping and examining this work every time I was in the bookstore (always a refuge for me), and eventually, as I was dawdling amid a stack of stories, I picked up a copy. Despite its format, the book falls within the current price range for hardcover books, at $29.95. It reminds me of another remarkable, widely available work, British postmodernist B. S. Johnson's (1933-1973) 1969 novel The Untouchables, which consists of 27 sections held together by a removable wrapper and placed in a similar clamshell box. In the UK Secker and Warburg originally published this work, and Picador published the British reissue in 2008, while New Directions published the US version.



This is not, however, a book of poetry in any conventional sense, and to me represents the most experimental text Carson has produced. Even placing this alongside her very avant-garde work Decreation: Poetry, Essays, Opera (Knopf, 2005), the radical quality of this text stands out. It reminds me both of an assemblage in the plastic art sense (cf. Duchamp, Man Ray, von Freytag-Loringhoven, Rauschenberg) and of one perhaps in the philosophical sense (Deleuze and Guattari), with the elements determined by the author, put in play by her, gesturing towards but defying a set genre (poetry), but really to be assembled and reassembled by the reader. To put it another way, Nox comprises texts to be made into a text, that must be made into them, to be transformed not into narrative, as Johnson had done earlier, or Julio Cortázar with his great novel Rayuela (Hopscotch, 1963), but into poetry, into a poem, an elegy.  In a sense, it embodies the root idea of translation, which involves the ritual carrying over of the remains of the dead (trans-latus, carrying across), and also the very idea of remembering, which is to say, re-membering, or putting together the pieces again and a being mindful of the deceased, of the past, of their shared history, yet here, the remembering isn't just the author's, for her brother, but a collaborative effort, requiring the reader's involvement.

As with all of Carson's work, every return to the text provides and turns up something new, and I am enjoying now slowly making my way through the lexicon entries and thinking about how often the issue of "night" (nux in ancient Greek, nox in Latin) turns up in the examples, and also how each relates to the right-side materials, the Zettel that create this sad, powerful and novel conversational elegy.

Anne Carson's *Nox* (New Directions, 2010)
Carson's Nox (New Directions, 2010), in its box (yes, that's Daneeyal Mueenuddin's stellar collection at left)
The cover
The box open, and the text inside
The 3-dimensional quality of the text
The 3-dimensional, multicolor quality of the text
Two of Carson's mixed media pieces
Some of Carson's artwork, in the text
Carson's translation of Catullus poem on the right
An example of a lexicon entry on the left, and one of Carson's texts, her translation of the Catullus poem, on the right
Nox, extended like an accordion
The book displayed in accordion fashion
The back of the book
The back of the book

* * *

When I have related the following story, or my rather reduced sense of it, to people, they listen politely, and I wonder, do they think I'm making this up? Because really, how often do you hear people use the terms "literary agent" and "crack addict" about the same person, in the same sentence? Yet such is the truth: my first (and former) literary agent is now set to become rich (again) and famous (or more so than he was), by giving his own account of his drug-addled career of a few years ago. Let me be clear that when he was my agent, although he wasn't able to sell my work (I did it myself), he was absolutely lovely and kind and encouraging and fun to be around, and I never thought for a minute that anything was amiss, and I gather it wasn't. He represented others quite well (including the author I wrote about above). But only a few years later, after he'd hit the jackpot with star writers and big advances...well, you can read the article.  And I just may have my students do so next winter. I think.

New York Times: "Tale of a Life, Unabridged: A Book Agent's Descent and Ascent from the Ashes"

* * *

Lastly, speaking of books and new technologies, I found this short piece in yesterday's Guardian Online worth noting: at the Guardian Hay-on-Wye Book Festival, Nobel Laureate Nadine Gordimer was advocating for the printed word over new technologies, and was especially calling for libraries, with print texts, in the shantytowns in South Africa (how many libraries could have been built and stocked with books for the billions spent on those World Cup stadiums?) and in similar places across Africa and the globe. In addition, she lamented the absence of bookstores as well in areas where black people were formerly segregated because of apartheid.  One simple point she made concerns the technological requirements for digital materials; she spoke about the batteries required for digital readers, but we might also press the issue of electricity too: without either, or affordable means to acquire and access them, what good is digital technology? If you can't charge your iPad or laptop, or access dial-up, broadband or wireless broadband, to what end are these technologies? (I did participate in the One Laptop Per Child (OLPC) program a few years back, and while it did have its problems, it still promises a way around some of these issues.) Yet Gordimer's basic point is well-taken: books are one of the more robust technologies for learning that we have, and we should be wary of doing away with them, especially in the physical and material forms we now have, too quickly. She also noted that one of the most influential wriers for her was Marcel Proust and said that she'd read his magnum opus A la recherche du temps perdu (In Search of Lost Time, 1913-1927) three times, first, in English as a girl (!), then in French, and then again recently in French. Would that I could find the time and space in this world to do so, even in English!

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Senior Readings + Epstein on Publishing's Future + Problems of Digital Media Preservation

Customarily in the university's undergraduate writing program, graduating senior majors and minors read at the end of the academic year, in late May and early June. This year, however, the readings moved to this just-concluded winter quarter, which meant that the spring quarter wouldn't be so overloaded, but it also translated into 2 readings per week for several weeks at first, and then 1 reading, usually on Tuesday evenings, up through this--exam--week. For the last three months, 2 to 3 seniors, paired with a faculty member who teaches in the program, have read.  I participated this evening in what was the final reading, with three seniors, Allie Keller (whom I taught in her introductory fiction class), poet Meriwether Clarke, and Aaron Kuper (a poet who was in my Situation of Writing Class). I hadn't heard Allie present her fiction in several years, and had never heard Meriwether or Aaron read, so it was a pleasure to hear all three of them. Aaron, who has a connoisseur's eye for books (once he brought for show-and-tell a well-maintained, hardbound, mid-20th century copy of Oscar Wilde's The Ballad of Reading Gaol at a midwestern bookshop), seemed to have taken to heart one key suggestion of one our class readings, of reading other poets' work in addition to your own, in Dana Gioia's "Can Poetry Matter?" I didn't know that he was going to do so (he read poems by Millay, Verlaine, and Sandburg), but I'd decided, after the panel discussion on Saturday and a review of all the translations I have done, a great many of them for and on this blog, that I'd pick a selection of them, and read four to end the program.

I've never read any of my translations at the university, so this was a first for me, but I'd also never read any non-English texts aloud either, so I chose one poem each from French (Alain Mabanckou's "Séjour Terrestre"), Portuguese (Manuel Bandeira's "Desencanto"), Spanish (Severo Sarduy's final poem from his series, "Cuadros de Franz Kline"), and Italian (Eugenio Montale's motetto "Il fiore che ripeti"), and read both the original and my English translation. It was, to put it simply, really fun. I ended by reading one of my favorite poems from Seismosis, "Color," which with several others was recently translated into French. I didn't want to overdo it, though, so I read only the French translation of "Process," the one-line poem that opens and closes the volume. The English and French ("Processus") rhythms differ, but the words themselves are quite similar. And with that, I helped to bid our wonderful seniors goodbye. Congrats to all of them, and as I said at the reading, it's been a honor to work with and teach them.

∫∫∫

I mentioned before that in the Situation of Writing class we read Jason Epstein's charming, memoiristic survey of his profession, Book Business: Publishing Past, Present and Future (W. W. Norton, 2001), which explores both the transformations in the last half-century of mainstream literary publishing in the US and Epstein's particular role in them.  In "Publishing: The Revolutionary Future," a short piece that appeared in the March 11, 2010, New York Review of Book, Epstein revisits many of the themes in his book. He once again discusses many of the major challenges facing his industry, as well as the current possibilities inherent in the electronic and digital platforms that had only just begun to appear a decade ago. In particular, he touches upon several issues that he didn't explore as much in the earlier work in part because of the state of e-publishing then: the question of social networking sites' role in the creation of new works; the potential proprietary problems with digitization; and the "cloud" approach not only increasingly central to computing but to thinking itself.



Concerning the first topic, he argues that while collaboration on certain projects is possible (and I can testify personally to this), to an immense degree the work of literary creation is solitary. All the workshopping and Facebooking in the world cannot transform a poem, say, in the way that a writer herself, even with aid from such sources, can and must do. With regard to the second issue, of digitization, Epstein suggests a practical approach that would benefit readers while not disadvantaging publishers, though it raises a basic question: in the digital world, can you really, fully own a book as you've been able to for centuries with a hardcopy version?  This question rose in sharpest relief recently when the behemoth sales site, Amazon, at decided to delete digital copies of Orwell's 1984, at the request of the book's publisher, from Kindle users who had downloaded it. With a hardcopy book, this simply would not have been possible. Amazon was heavily criticized, but as the largest online retailer in the country and the owner of the propietary software--if not the actual content--through which Orwell's book was displayed, they had and demonstrated how much control they had in a way that would not be possible with a hardcopy book--unless, of course, we descended into a Fahrenheit 451-type scenario, or some similar confiscatory scheme.  Is "purchasing" a book from Amazon on its or similarly proprietary software then only a form of rental or leasing? If so, why isn't this discussed more? And given the instability of software, aren't there multiple dangers involved with this particular format? Should someone who "buys" a book for the Kindle also be able to print out a hardcopy version...just in case?

On the third topic, he cites the "nihilism" in the anti-textual push for a "collective brain" that would "[reproduce] electronically on a universal scale the synergies that occur spontaneously within individual minds." Among the issues I've noted and others in the article, this one did not come up in the earlier book, perhaps because the concept was only nascent even among researchers at that point, but we're now at the stage where the "cloud" concept has begun to take off. In the absence of texts as we've known them, their materiality, or even the hard drives on which our digital files have been stored, can we even speak of textuality any more, or are we now onto something completely different? Are changes not just in materiality but in consciousness itself, in relation to this concept, pointing perhaps to a new ontology of thinking, creating and reading?  What is the appropriate metaphor beyond the "cloudlike"?  What stands in for the virtuality that is more than concept but still not fully in our grasp, except in evanescent flashes?

Epstein's perspective here, as in the book, brims with hope and not a little caution. His print-on-demand machine suggestion still has yet to take hold, but it still seems feasible and, perhaps, one route to counter the deep fears and creeping reality of the anachronization, dematerialization and detextualization of literature. These contraptions very well may play a huge role in our literary future, not only by allowing us, to a degree not yet known, to identify, print and own books we have only dreamt of or been able to access via libraries and archives, but also in saving some of the artifacts of our contemporary literary culture, such bookstores, which as physical entities seem poised, like the mainstream publishing industry and all the industries once related to it, to fade into but a ghostly shimmer of their former selves.

∫∫∫

Epstein, though citing the fragility of digitization, doesn't explore the question of preservation, both of past electronic and digital works, or current or future ones. In this past Monday's New York Times, Patricia Cohen, in "Fending Off Digital Decay, Bit by Bit," discusses some of the chief issues librarians and archivists face in accessing, preserving and presenting, for research and public interest and enjoyment, works originally created in a digital format. She focuses on Emory University's impressive display of author Salman Rushdie's personal archive, which includes not only book covers and handwritten journals, but

four Apple computers (one ruined by a spilled Coke). The 18 gigabytes of data they contain seemed to promise future biographers and literary scholars a digital wonderland: comprehensive, organized and searchable files, quickly accessible with a few clicks.
Yet those searchable files aren't so easy to reach, because with "born-digital" materials, which is to say, in dealing with particular types of hardware and software, there are any number of challenges.

Electronically produced drafts, correspondence and editorial comments, sweated over by contemporary poets, novelists and nonfiction authors, are ultimately just a series of digits — 0’s and 1’s — written on floppy disks, CDs and hard drives, all of which degrade much faster than old-fashioned acid-free paper. Even if those storage media do survive, the relentless march of technology can mean that the older equipment and software that can make sense of all those 0’s and 1’s simply don’t exist anymore.

Imagine having a record but no record player.

Cohen goes on to talk about how Emory, like Stanford University--in part because of its geographical location at the very heart of Silicon Valley--and the University of Texas's library, has become a leader in this area, addressing and solving some of these problems, but the larger questions the article raises are legion, and yet they aren't so frequently and publicly discussed, whether you're talking about future e-books and formats, past electronic files and digital materials, or the lifespan of many types of hardware and software. Cohen notes that Stanford's library has set up the nation's first digital forensics lab, starring FRED (Forensic Recovery of Evidence Device), a recovery machine, to address hardware and software access and preservation issues. Emory's library, she adds, has received funding to emulate Stanford's effort. At Harvard, one of the nation's largest library systems, the archivist has been storing the 50+ floppy disks received as part of John Updike's bequest until a policy and systems are in place to deal with them.

Erik Lesser for The New York Times
Salman Rushdie at Emory University in Atlanta, which is currently exhibiting his personal archive, including personal papers, and electronically produced drafts of his novels.

As I pointed out to the students in my class, I don't have a computer that can run any of the ancient 5 1/4" floppy disks I used in college, or even know of anyone who has the hardware to run Xywrite, which is the specific software program I used; and while C and I do have some old Macs at home, I don't know if I can still open many of the 3 1/2" disks that hold some of my earliest literary efforts and who knows what else? Some of them are now saved to an old iMac, which itself has careened towards obsolescence. And then there are all the online works I've created, like my old website, accessible, though only in part, via the Wayback machine. But what about projects that have been scrubbed from the Net altogether?  I also don't see emails as artifacts to be saved, but should I? Do I want people to be able to comb through them? I still write letters, but I can say with assurance that my approach to drafting handwritten letters always entails more care than any emails I write except those for work, which also receive a high level of attention. As regular readers of this blog know, my grammatical and spelling mishaps, especially when I'm writing with a TV playing the background, are legion.

A friend who's an archivist at a major public research responded to an email about this by noting that this is an issue he's been thinking about and trying to address for some time. He noted that he tries to get writers to think about printing out drafts, the issues related to electronic and digital media, and what preservation and access might look like. What he didn't say, and what the article suggests, is that there are, as of now, no clear standards on how to address these questions, which will become more pressing with each passing day.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Around the World + Helping Prison Libraries in MD + Death of Fiction/Lit Mags + Translation Errors

The other day, in the midst of more hairpulling over the current US political paralysis and continuous series of bad choices that the administration and Congress keep making, as if they're trying to crash through a 2010 looking-glass version of 1994 but with potentially far more disastrous outcomes, I asked myself: what else is going on in the rest of the world, in addition to the terrible post-quake situation in Haiti, which has gotten a great deal of attention.I began to catalogue some of the things I was somewhat aware of, just off the top of my head, and am listing them here. What am I missing?

These were the first few news factlets that came to mind, and the situations in Nigeria, the most populous country in Africa, one of the US's major sources of oil, and the one from which the alleged recent airline bomb-plot participant came; and in Iraq, which the US is currently occupying and which the news media have all but disappeared, both really deserve far greater scrutiny. But then what's happening across the globe, including both in the US's front yards and far away, should receive far greater media and public exploration and discussion. What else am I missing?

***

From Reggie H, I received this appeal from a Maryland librarian who coordinates a program involving bringing books and other reading materials to incarcerated people. Their funding has just been slashed, so the library, Glennor Shirley, writes:
From: "Glennor Shirley" Sent: Tue 26/01/10 12:19 PM Subject:GED books and dictionariesCorrectional Education Libraries lost all their funding due to the state budget crisis. That has affected our ability to purchase materials for inmates who read a lot and who we are preparing to returning to society to be productive citizens. We will accept:
  • Reference materials no older than 2 years.
  • Current Non Fiction ( psychology, self help, self improvement, relationships, starting your own business, business plans, career, English language dictionaries, health information
  • Anything on the NYT and Washington Post Bestseller Lists
  • Popular authors, like Grisham, Ludlum, Patterson, Stephen King,
  • Alice Walker, Patricia Cornwell, Grafton, etc.
  • Mysteries, horror, romance, books by African-American writers.
  • GED Books,
  • English language dictionaries
Call or email me if you have any good offers. Read my vignette at: ALA: "Vignettes from a Prison Librarian"Glennor Shirley http://prisonlibrarian.blogspot.comLibrary CoordinatorCorrectional Education LibrariesBaltimore MD 21201email: gshirley@dllr.state.md.ushttp://www.dllr.state.md.us/ce/lib/
***

Someone is always figuratively announcing, proclaiming or predicting the death of one of the arts, or a sub-genre within them. Painting was dead 10 years ago, long live painting. The novel's utility long ago vanished, here come the novels. Video art was just a passing fad, but biennials can't get enough of video art. Etc. What is sometimes true is that the delivery systems by which we access certain types of art do change, thereby changing our experiences with and relationship to them. Drive-ins, those relics of an older, suburbanizing, car-focused culture, which were still around in my youth, are all but gone these days. But the arts aren't going away. Ted Genoways, editor of Virginia Quarterly Review, however, expounds in Mother Jones not only that American fiction is kaput and American poetry doesn't deal with the "big issues," but that literary journals are disappearing. Going, going, gone. Of course he extrapolates from a few anecdotes (one of them incorrect), providing no statistical data to back up his projections, nor does he seem to be aware of the increasing number of online journals, or the countless ones that have replaced the older formats (newspapers, general interest magazines, etc.) that he's citing. He isn't the first to bemoan the parochialism of American literature, and won't be the last, but to leap from that critique to the death of lit mags is, to put it simply, pushing it. The story about the former Yale Review editor becoming a US Senator from Connecticut Senator is, if nothing else, inspiring, though, and I could even see a university--Yale?--adding this to its marketing materials: Students, there are many more things you can do with creative writing and literary and cultural studies than you might have imagined, including replacing those sorry excuses for legislators Chris Dodd and Joe Lieberman!

***

Did you see the translation of the Aimé Césaire (a Martinican and one of the great poets of the Caribbean and Francophone literature) poem in the recent issue of The New Yorker? You know, the issue with the paean to writer Neil Gaiman; the insightful as always discussion of memoir-writing, authenticity and truthfulness by Daniel Mendelsohn; and the "short story" by evolutionary biologist E. O. Wilson? It was titled "Earthquake," and was translated by Paul Muldoon. A friend forwarded it and, for several different reasons, it rubbed me the wrong way. (Why not a poem by a Haitian or Haitian-American poet, like Frankétienne, Phébus Étienne, Paul Laraque, Georges Castera, Jean-Euphèle Milcé, Patrick Sylvain, Jacqueline Scott, René Philoctète, Danielle LeGros-Georges, Carlo Paul, Ella Turenne, or Gina Dorcely, just to name a few? When was the last time any Haitian or Haitian-American poets appeared in the pages of The New Yorker?) Little did I know.... (H/t Reggie H, Randall H)