Why Marginalia?

by Kevin Eagan

From the David Foster Wallace collection at the Harry Ransom Center, University of Texas at Austin

From the David Foster Wallace collection at the Harry Ransom Center, University of Texas at Austin

Today, I’d like to pose a simple question, and give my opinion on something that I’ve struggled with as a reader for a while now: why write in the margins? Why do many readers mark up, star, or pose questions to authors while reading?

While reading today, I had a simple, yet [I think] profound insight into the purpose of marginalia: the reason we take notes while reading and mark up books is to have a psychic dialogue with the author. For active readers who engage with the author’s work, marginalia becomes more important than the reading itself. This is why it can be such a moving reading experience to read with pen in hand and notebook at the side. As readers, we prod the text to do more and be more, and when the text wows us, or disappoints, we want to respond to that.

I’ve written about this topic before, and on one level, understanding marginalia is the reason I started this blog.

When it comes to e-books and other digital technology, the reading experience needs to make our marginal conversations with the text easier and even more fluid. E-books used to provide a terrible reading experience because of this reason. They are starting to improve: I can type a note in the margin, highlight, and upload these to “the cloud,” but I can’t just grab a pen and write what I want, where I want it: over the text, in the “real” margin, or doodle/scribble random stuff.

I want to know what you, as a reader or as an author, think about this. Thoughts? Comment, like, and share!

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Read this: “How We Will Read,” an interview with Maria Popova

Maria Popova is a writer for Wired UK and also co-curates the site Brainpickings. Findings recently interviewed her as part of their “How We Will Read” series, and in this interview, Popova gives some excellent insight into what it is like to read digitally.

It’s worth reading the entire interview at Findings, but today I’d like to highlight two main points Popova makes about reading in the digital age.

First, Popova takes on “social” reading, which is something I mentioned in a recent post. First, she admits that, for her, reading has not become more social on digital devices. She brings up an interesting point that reading needs to start as a personal experience:

I don’t need a focus group of strangers to tell me what I should be reading or, more dangerously, how to read what I’m reading. Decision by committee doesn’t work in creative labor, and it certainly doesn’t work in intellectual labor.

Mortimer Aldler, in the wonderful How to Read a Book, says that marginalia are your private dialogue with the author, the intellectual tug-of-war that is really the greatest compliment you can pay an author. Being guided by other people’s marginalia is like letting a thousand voices into your head while trying to hold a challenging debate. Have those conversations, by all means, but do so over dinner or tea with people whom you respect and only after you have read the very thing you’re going to discuss and made up your mind about it.

Skimming through comments and notes via a sharing program or social media while reading a book takes away from that experience, and it’s not an enjoyable one, either.

Popova’s other significant point is one I hope to explore further in the coming weeks on this blog: the idea that we need to move away from print-based metaphors when reading, writing, and publishing digitally:

One thing we absolutely must do — and I see no other way forward — is get away from the legacy models that underpin reading today.

Some of these have to do with the design of the reading experience. We still operate on the metaphor of the scroll. It’s baked into our interfaces and our language — we “scroll” screens and authors regularly refer to text “above” or “below.” Well, guess what, if I’m reading on an e-reader, what’s “below” for you might be “above” on the next page for me or “to the right” if I’m reading in a two-column view.

This idea was promoted recently by Clive Thompson in the Wired article “Retro Design is Crippling Innovation.” In it, he calls for new design metaphors, and concludes that we should “Let paper work like paper and screens like screens.”

What I hope this interview reveals is the idea that, at its core, reading is about discovery, reflection, and development. E-books and E-readers might bring in new ways to read, but they should not distract from the act of reading itself.

Kevin Eagan

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Thoughts on my first-ever digital detox

By Kevin Eagan

I did it: I survived 2 days without the internet, and I didn’t explode.

Actually, I had a great weekend. On Saturday, I spent most of the day outside, including a trip to the zoo with my wife, a long jog with my dog, and a night out for thai food. On Sunday, I stayed in and read a plethora of articles (all downloaded to my e-ink kindle before the detox started), caught up on some writing, and started reading a book for pleasure (“The Devil in the White City” by Erik Larson).

With all of my internet-enabled devices switched off, I felt like I had a lot more time to accomplish the things I wanted to accomplish. However, I knew ahead of time that this would be a weekend off, so all I did was add the digital detox element. My next goal is to try a digital detox on a day when I have a lot of work to do. In particular, I’d like to go internet-free on a day when I plan to do a lot of writing. I suspect this will be more of a challenge, but one that is worth trying.

Here are some observations I had this weekend:

  • Though I gained extra time by not going online, I felt the pull of the internet all weekend. In particular, I kept feeling like I would miss important emails. As it turned out, I had several emails waiting for me this morning, but only one was a high priority.
  • Even the high priority email didn’t need an immediate response, clarifying for me that I don’t need to check my email as frequently, especially on weekends.
  • I missed Wikipedia, IMDb, and Google the most. There were times when I wanted to look up something quick, and I couldn’t. At the same time, writing a quick note (on paper!) to remind myself to look it up later worked fine. I was able to keep my concentration on what I was doing.
  • As it turned out, the things I felt I had to look up right away weren’t important anyway! But I already knew that.

The most important observation that I had this weekend was that the internet is a helpful tool, but it needs to be used correctly. There’s nothing wrong with being connected to the internet as long as we are aware of how we use it. From my perspective, the internet can cause me to waste a lot of valuable time. That’s why I am attempting to create a digital lifestyle that is both productive and valuable to me, and digital detoxes will help me accomplish these goals.

I first thought about this idea after reading William Powers’s excellent book Hamlet’s Blackberry. In this book, Powers urges readers to create a balanced digital life. Reflecting on my own digital life, I realized that I had to create digital down-times, a digital equivalent of Thoreau’s escape to the woods.

And I’m not alone in wanting some refuge from the connected life. This morning, I read an article from Forbes, titled “The Rise of Digital Detox”, that cites some interesting statistics about our digital life. For example, “50 percent of Americans prefer to communicate digitally rather than in person” and “72 percent use their smartphones while consuming other media, and one-third are on their smartphones while watching TV,” which suggests both an attitude change about digital communication and a move toward information overload.

There are apps available to help promote a digital detox. On Android, for example, there are two that look really good: Digital Vacay and Digital Detox. Both help users block certain phone functionality for a set amount of time. Desktop apps that do similar things exist on both Windows and Mac. For readers, both the kindle and nook are designed to help you fall into books (when wifi is off), and programs like instapaper and longreads promote long-form, offline reading of all the great stuff found online.

For me, what’s next is to pick a day out of the week, each week, where I purposely go internet-free. This will help me reconnect with ideas, writing, reflection, and the power of my own mind.

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Filed under reading, response, digital humanism, digital detox

Digital Detox: Finding Alternatives to the Digital World

by Kevin Eagan

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived…I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish it meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.” — Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Throughout this week, I’ve explored the pros and cons of being connected in the digital age. While the ability to collaborate as writers and share ideas as readers is an important aspect of the internet, shallowness and a feeling of emotional disconnection from the world around us can hurt our progress. If we are going to continue using digital devices, we need to start thinking of ways to use them smartly.

One solution that I presented in my last post is to disconnect completely for a long period of time. The Verge’s Paul Miller is doing this right now, and he plans to go internet-free for a year. While this approach might work for some, I advocate something simpler: short periods of time without the internet, or as I call it, digital detoxes.

I admit I’ve never fully disconnected from the internet in years. The only time I can remember being internet-free was during my last move, and even then, I checked the internet through free wifi at cafes when I had time. Today, even if I moved and didn’t have internet access at home for a while, I’d still be connected through my smartphone. I am finally at a point where the longest time I go (besides sleep) without checking something on the internet is an hour or two — probably the length of time it takes to watch a movie at the cinema.

Even though most of my work today depends on the internet, I don’t need to be online for more than an hour or two a day. I can get a lot of stuff done offline, then go back to the internet when needed. Yet I’m still always connected. It’s starting to annoy me.

This weekend, I have set aside two days where I will go internet-free. I will call it a digital detox. I want to go out and spend time with my wife, call my friends or family, or go on a long, smartphone-free walk with my dog. I want to spend time in books — paper and e-books — without checking my e-mail notifications or checking facebook or twitter. I want to write…on paper!

As of tomorrow morning, these are the rules for my digital detox weekend:

  • No internet. I will check my e-mail before bed tonight, then I’m turning the data and wifi off on my smartphone, kindle fire, kindle keyboard, and laptop.
  • The only computer usage will be limited to specific work stuff. However, I don’t have too many immediate work-related things to do this weekend, so I want to limit my time to about ½ hour of work on the computer, offline only.
  • I won’t use my kindle fire at all, and I will only limit my smartphone to calls and texts. However, I will use my e-ink kindle for reading only (with wifi off, of course)
  • I will use the extra time to do things that are meaningful. My wife and I plan a trip to the farmer’s market and to a park on Saturday, and I have some reading and writing to do for the rest of the time this weekend. As long as the weather is nice, I want to take my dog to the dog park, and maybe grill out.

These main points might seem trivial, but I think they matter. It’s not like I never get time to do these things; I do take a lot of walks and go running daily, and I have many deep conversations with friends and my wife. But it’s the idea of doing all of this without feeling the need to check my phone every 20 minutes, or get lost reading blogs all day, or watch YouTube videos for hours.

On Monday, I hope to post about how I did with this digital detox weekend. I hope to read some essays and finish some books that deal with this topic, so I will comment on those as well. Basically, I hope that being internet-free for two days will help me begin to piece together all of the stuff I’ve written about recently. I want to know that reading, writing, and collaborating in the digital age has meaning, and sometimes stepping away is the best way to re-discover its importance.

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Filed under technology, kindle, random, the digital margins, reading, essay, response, digital collaboration, digital humanism, thoreau

An approach to finding sanity in the digital age

I have mentioned previously on this blog that I am an avid reader of the technology site The Verge. One of the site’s editors, Paul Miller, recently began a new project to completely remove himself from the internet for a year. As an editor for a major technology site, this is a major undertaking, and it’s one that he has showcased through a series of articles. (By the way, his articles are all written offline and submitted via flash drive, so even though he’s not on the internet, he isn’t completely removed, technologically.)

Although this experiment began only a few weeks ago, Miller has shown that it is possible to find substance in a disconnected world. In his series of articles about the subject, Miller has made it clear that the purpose of this experiment is to see if the connected world really provides connection with others: “By separating myself from the constant connectivity, I can see which aspects are truly valuable, which are distractions for me, and which parts are corrupting my very soul.” His hope, it seems, is to rediscover what is truly valuable in his life and on the internet.

In his most recent article, “Offline: Ghost Limbs,” Miller explains how the addiction of checking his phone constantly has been replaced with more interaction with others:

During my week without a phone, and in my ensuing weeks after that moment of clarity, I’ve been talking to a lot more people I don’t know, and talking a lot more to the people I do know. Ever since I’ve owned a phone I’ve been honing a studious, “I better check this to make sure everybody’s okay and then I can get back to being popular” expression at parties and bars. It excuses me from large chunks of an evening, and keeps me comfortably alone.

As humans, what we want most is to feel connected, as I’ve explored in recent posts from the perspective of both a reader and a writer. What happens is we allow the technology to replace the connection, and we mistake the technology with the interaction itself.

I’m not sure I’m brave enough to leave the internet for a year like Paul Miller. Time will tell if his experiment lasts. But I do think it’s possible to disconnect for long enough to re-connect with something other than a screen. Even though I advocate for more interactivity and connection on devices, I also acknowledge that too much connectivity can have the opposite effect: to isolate us from what we really want from life. From Plato to Thoreau, to someone like Paul Miller today, we can see that what is more important than inter-connectivity is to live fully, however it may be defined.

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Reading [digitally] alone…together

by Kevin Eagan

For today’s blog post, I focus on reading collaboratively. Do digital technologies really make it easier for us to share and connect with other readers? What does it mean to connect with someone else, as a reader?

“[B]eing alone can start to seem like a precondition for being together because it is easier to communicate if you can focus, without interruption, on your screen. In this new regime, a train station (like an airport, a cafe, a park) is no longer a communal space but a place of social collection: people come together but do not speak to each other.” — Sherry Turkle, Alone Together: Why We Expect More From Technology and Less from Each Other

being alone, together, through text

One of the things I like most about my kindle is the ability to share my notes and highlights with friends. Whenever I choose to share a note, I tap one button and tweet whatever I want about the book. My kindle has deep integration with my social network.

Which would be great, except that I’ve never had a conversation with a friend about a note I tweeted from a book. Instead of creating a new dialog, the kindle sharing function has left me feeling even more isolated than before. It’s one thing to read a book and never mention it to anybody, but it’s another to share something that never gets a response back.

However, if I read this same book and comment in a general sense about something significant during a conversation with a friend, it can turn into a thoughtful, deep, meaningful experience in only a couple of minutes. Despite the ability to tweet the same thing out instantly, nothing replaces a real conversation.

I’ve been reading Sherry Turkle’s book Alone Together: Why We Expect More From Technology and Less From Each Other off and on over the past month (explaining the title for today’s post). Turkle critiques our lack of human connection as we become more digitally plugged in. She presents the true paradox of a digital life: that in order to become more connected, we become more isolated. We are alone together, and no matter how many “share” buttons we integrate into our apps, the isolation we feel goes deep into our psyche.

In a recent interview, Turkle explains how this phenomenon works on twitter: “I think it’s an interesting notion that sharing becomes part of actually having the thought. It’s not ‘I think therefore I am,’ it’s, ‘I share therefore I am.’ Sharing as you’re thinking opens you up to whether the group likes what you’re thinking as becoming a very big factor in whether or not you think you’re thinking well.” It is as if the act of sharing itself becomes the purpose, not what’s being shared.

This is a real problem, but I wouldn’t be here writing this today if I thought it was the end of true connectedness. I want us digital-minded readers to feel, connect, and do more than share. Sharing is not what it means to be connected, to be fully human. But can true human connectedness be computed? Can we feel through a cold device? Well, can we “feel” on paper? Some say yes, but I’m not sure myself.

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Filed under digital collaboration, ebook, essay, future of the book, publishing, reading, the digital margins, twitter, writers on writing

Writing and collaboration in the digital age

by Kevin Eagan

Yesterday, I wrote about how reading has changed in the digital age. Today, I want to focus on how writing has changed. Specifically, I focus on the good (collaboration, new fields of study, etc.) and the bad (hasty publishing, poor editing, etc.).

infinite collaboration.

“Every artist tries to foresee or even nudge the context in which expression is to be perceived so that the art will make sense. It’s not necessarily a matter of overarching ego, or manipulative promotion, but a simple desire for meaning” — Jaron Lanier, You Are Not A Gadget

As I thought about how writing has changed in the digital age, I realized that the act of writing itself is utilitarian and boring. Essentially, not much has changed over the years when it comes to writing; the act of writing itself is just a matter of sitting and doing it, and trying to do it well. In this way, writing is no different than most other forms of creative output. An artist, for example, takes paint or ink and a canvas and creates something new out of it. What changes in the process of writing — or creating anything, really — are the tools used and the ability to find meaning in using them.

Because writing itself changes very little, I don’t see a negative change in terms of creative output on the internet or in any other digital space. People will create even more now that the tools are easier to use, and this can only mean that more amazing literature and art is out there to be discovered.

On the internet, this means shorter, more succinct, sometimes more sensationalist writing. On an e-reader or similar app-based device, this can mean more plot-driven writing, but it can also mean writing that plays freely with form. Even in the act of writing this blog post, I’m aware that this will be a longer post that requires some involvement from the reader. On one level, I’m breaking an unspoken rule about blog posts remaining short and sweet, but on another level, I’m aware that most of my readers will keep reading. Either way, this writing is a lot different from my scholarly writing, or writing for publication, even if a lot of the content remains the same.

Digital audiences are different from other audiences, and the contexts in which they exist are always in flux. This gives writers in the digital age a lot more leeway in creating and experimenting, but it also makes it a lot harder to gain and keep an audience of readers.

As I see it, there are two areas where writing in a digital space is different. First, the tools available allow writers to move beyond a print matrix, incorporating other rhetorical modes: coding, design, pixelation, hyperlinking, etc. Second, digital connectedness gives writers new ways to collaborate with people and groups that they may not have sought out in any other space. Both of these areas are incredibly important if we are to create new ways of thinking and writing.

When digital tools are used, like wikis, blogs, QR codes, collaborative word processors, and the like, the possibilities are endless…if you know how to use them, and know what they do. As someone who knows little about coding, I know that I must seek out someone who knows a lot about coding in order to make my web site or project do what I intend for it to do. Equally, someone who is great at coding but might not be that great at design might seek out a graphic designer to help turn ideas into something real. The tools are there, but what makes them work well is the ability to collaborate. This aspect is, without a doubt, the most important aspect of writing in the digital age

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