This weekend, I read a chapter on "The Electronic Book," from Jay David Bolter's Writing Space: The Computer, Hypertext, and the History of Writing. He gets into historical ideas about what books actually are, and should be used for, and how this gave rise to the encyclopedia, both general and specialized. All that just sets up an insanely interesting prediction of how computers and hypertext can be used to create "The Electronic Encyclopedia."
For anyone a bit confused by my use of 'hypertext' (which, depending on the context, is either hopelessly jargon-istic or hopelessly outmoded), keep in mind that Bolter published his book in 1991. At least he didn't favor the word 'hotlink.' That term gives me a weirdly abstract mental image of neon pink Daisy Dukes. Back to the topic at hand: In 1991, Bolter writes a book in which he posits the possibility, as hinted at by previous printed encyclopedias, of an electronic edition which will have the following characteristics:
- "The computer [will] facilitate the task of moving through the encyclopedic outline and among the various articles." (93)
- "...in the electronic medium the visible and useful structure [of the encyclopedia] may extend to the paragraph, the sentence, or even the individual word. The computer can permit the reader to manipulate text at any of these levels." (93)
- "The editors are...free to create a referential network that functions underneath and apart from their topical outlines." (95)
- "Outlines or other topical arrangements can coexist with the alphabetical order. An electronic encyclopedia can be organized in as many ways as the editors and the readers can collectively imagine." (94)
But I digress. Or do I? That last quote from Bolter speaks to a new and different attitude towards information, whether printed, electronic, or otherwise. Asking whether the technology gave rise to the attitude, or vice versa is a chicken-and-egg rabbithole that I don't want to go down. I do want to get a better handle on what exactly the attitude is.
Here's why: I see a connection between the structure of Wikipedia and the fact that contemporary students consider it a valid source of information, and that they consider lowercase 'i' to be perfectly acceptable in any kind of writing, and the popularity of Harry Potter. I'm sure we could draw more into this connective web, but it might get out of hand.
To begin, Bolter's insights from ten years before Wikipedia's creation serve as evidence that Wikipedia's success is not accidental. Rather, Wikipedia is beloved by millions not only because it serves a need, but because it does so in a way that feels good to its users. I'm tempted here to draw a parallel to Starbucks, so what the hey, here goes. Starbucks offers a luxury item at mostly affordable prices. A mocha costs less than a day at the spa. But, the price could still be a deterrent for those who know how to measure grinds into a coffeepot if Starbucks did not sell the feel of buying a cup of coffee as much as they do the coffee itself. Standing in line at the local Bux, you can feel both like you belong and like you're special enough to buy coffee at Starbucks. It's ingenious, really: get your community, and your ready-made social identity, one-stop shopping! In the case of Wikipedia, you get your information, and you feel like you're part of a global project, working to democratize knowledge, scholarly and popular, for the edification of all mankind. Well, all mankind that has internet access. In its early days, Wikipedia took this offer a step further, and gave its users the chance to contribute to this floating pool of knowledge.
What could better speak to a generation that shares everything on Twitter, Facebook, Bebo, or whatever else is hip these days? To these cats, information cannot be organized hierarchically without reference to personal taste. What you have to say is not more important because it is more scholarly, or weighty, or the key to national security. It is more important because people want to know it. Thus the tickers, counting traffic to various websites. We're not measuring importance, we're measuring popularity. And we have no ticker for the former. So Wikipedia provides a pool of information (or knowledge; I've been using them interchangeably, and perhaps I shouldn't. Save that for a future post), and lets you dive in from anywhere around the sides you'd like. If you can come in through the bottom, go for it, and don't forget to skydive in sometime. No wonder the resource appeals to current students: it treats information the same way they do. I would like to be positive and not chalk it up to laziness on the students' parts, but rather think about what could appeal beyond its ease of us. The online OED is pretty easy too, but you don't see a lot of freshmen poking around in it.
So on to 'i' and Harry Potter. If this stab at wiki-theory holds water, it can be extended to students' writing as well as their research. A friend who teaches high school English told me yesterday that she has an inordinate number of students who simply don't understand why 'i' is unprofessional and 'I' is professional. The key to cracking that particular nut is this idea of 'understanding.' Is it really difficult to capitalize your 'i's,' in writing or typing? Absolutely not. Do they know it should be capitalized? According to my secret teacher source, yes. Being positive, then, we'll assume the lack of capitalization doesn't stem from laziness. Instead, it's a reflection of what's going on in the students' own capitals. (Pardon my Latin.) In a world of free-floating, unordered information, the rules of correct spelling and grammar cannot be privileged over, say, the fact that even Mac uses 'i' for all their ads.
And Harry Potter? Well, he does alright in school, but his success doesn't come from book-learning passed down through the centuries. It comes from his own choices about what's important for him to learn and what isn't. He starts a practice group, which has nothing to do with Hogwarts' curriculum. He doesn't do so well in classes, but still always saves the day. He can treat Hermione and Neville as his own personal Wikipedia. When he tries to find the answer in the library in The Goblet of Fire, one book after another lets him down until Neville shows him the answer in the unlikeliest of places.
Amazing, how Harry has tapped into the informational Zeitgeist. Bolter predicted it, Wikipedia made it, Rowling fictionalized it. Now I just wonder where we go from here. Wikipedia has reinstated editors for certain pages, as of this year, and Harry's all done. Seems like they had a good run together and we'll just have to wait for the Hogwarts theme park so we can take pictures with our iPhones and text all our friends to let them know, "omg im @ hgwrts!" Wonder if the Starbucks will be in the courtyard or the Great Hall.
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