My Twitter Bot is Burdened With Glorious Purpose

I enjoyed reading the blog posts this week, because I've always been curious about other peoples' interactions with Twitter. I never got into the Twitter-sphere, and I think it has something to do with my inability to accurately express myself in 140 characters or less. I was a little surprised with MermaidGhost's response to Zach Whalen's twitter project. I don't think that the Twitter-verse only appreciates bots because they're funny or can quote cult-classic movies. It seems that it sells the audience a little bit short, in my opinion.

However, if that is how the majority of the Twitter-sphere views bots, then it's easy to see how electronic literature isn't taken seriously. Bots, blogging, and computer-based criticism all seem to be viewed skeptically, and I think that adding social media into the mix only adds another level of skepticism.

But, why should we discredit computers or social media? I have more respect for digital media and computer-based criticism this week after working more on my own textual interventions, and reading Stephen Ramsay's explanation of patacomps and pataphysics. It seems there is a world of criticism and creativity that we, as a culture, are throwing to the way-side because we've pigeonholed the computer and social media into having only one function. Even worse? We've pigeonholed ourselves by asserting that digital audiences can't understand or don't care about internet projects, such as Zach Whalen's genius Twitter-bot.

What If Shakespeare Had a Twitter?

I have a love/hate relationship with Twitter. I've always enjoyed using it to snoop on people, keep up with celebrities, and get news right in the moment. However, I hate using it. In fact, I don't have a twitter account that I keep updated. I was required to have one for a class last year, and guess what? I haven't updated it since the class ended.

But, I must say that Zach Whalen's article on twitter bots made me rethink how I use and view twitter. Similarly, Stephen Ramsay's conclusion that he hopes that algorithmic-criticism will soon became as outdated and odd as library-based criticism forced me to view the integration of computers into literary criticism in a different way.

Ramsay is completely correct in his assertion that computers are already a part of the human social experience, and that they've transformed from clinical number crunchers to personal information devices that hold photos of our loved ones, valued manuscripts, and access to numerous social networking sites. I would argue that it would be worthwhile to see what it would mean for the literary sphere if we could collide the social networking experience (such as Twitter) with human-based computer criticism. 

Instead of viewing Twitter or Tumblr or Facebook as purely fun, time sucks, and distractions from "real" schoolwork, maybe the humanities should embrace projects such as Zach Whalen's into their fold. What if we allowed students to create this algorithms and fake Twitters as projects to explore word frequency and character information as a way to critically explore the text? It's possible that we could turn an entirely new audience onto critical thinking and literature.

I would argue that Zach Whalen's project is something that could be adapted to fit the classroom, and it could be useful in developing new and meaningful ways to explore literary criticism. How would a Marxist reading of a text produce different outlooks? Tweet from a character's perspective and apply the criticism. Reader-response? Great! Apply an algorithm like Whalen's to characters or text and interact with the text and create new meanings in entirely unique ways.

There are a myriad of ways that the collision of social networking, literary criticism, and algorithms can happen to produce meaningful and original research and criticism. The key is deconstructing our view of what these websites and computers should be used for, and instead, seeing them for what they could be used for.

I Am Not a Lumberjack

After I read all of Group 4's blogposts, I noticed two common themes - a dislike for this week's readings and a far greater interest in the works being used as examples or commentaries instead of the articles themselves.

Singing Celara and shidaipe both lament "Birds Singing Other Birds Songs," and I can understand. It seemed nonsensical to me, and it still does. I considered a recent conversation about modernism and postmodernism, and it seemed highly applicable to the reactions to this weeks readings.

In my recent conversation, my colleagues and I complained about the lack of accessibility to the majority of Joyce's writings- especially Ulysses. My mother used to joke that her copy of Allusions in Ulysses was twice the size of the actual book (and it actually is!). However, as a writer and English major, I wonder if this kind of literature has the desired effect that the author intends.

Is Joyce trying to confuse us? What is the point of "Birds Singing Other Birds Songs"? What's the deal with all the blue? All of these questions were raised at some point this week, and I wonder if the deconstructed and non-linear nature of some literature (cyberpunk, electronic lit, Beatniks) is too much? Has it gotten to the point where the point of the piece of work is lost? To borrow a commonly used phrase, can we not see the forest for the trees?

For many of us, it feels like we have to be lumberjacks, cutting away pieces of the text, to understand its meaning. However, I think the opposite is true: we should be conservationists, preserving the integrity of these complicated creations (even those with annoying bird sounds), because they lend to the overall understanding of the piece. Instead of reconstructing the piece, we should reconstruct the way we think.

I enjoy thinking critically about literature, and I enjoy dense and complex plots. However, I can definitely understand (and agree) with a lot of the issues raised with the dryness, complexity, and oddity of this weeks assigned readings/texts. I would argue that most of our confusion and hesitancy with these particular texts arises from a lack of experience with non-traditional texts due to a narrow canonical education in our primary, secondary, and college-level education. For most of us, this is the first time we've been exposed to any of these texts or electronic literature. I don't think it should be this way.

I would propose that integrating more non-linear, deconstructed, and unorthodox texts earlier in curriculum could create a generation that has a broader and deeper understanding of reading, writing, and creating.

Editions, Archives, and Projects - Oh My!

Kenneth Price attacks terminology of large-scale text-based electronic publishing, and I think his attack is unwarranted. An invasion, if you will.

He tackles edition, archive, database, and project in his essay. Edition seems to encompass too many changes and annotations, archive and database are outdated, and project is too unfocused for his needs. However, I think therein lies the problem with Price's essay: his problems. Kenneth Price is approaching this from his own arena, and I think he fails to consider the larger literary sphere.

Scholars, especially scholars who are used to traditional print-publishing, need to have access to familiar terminology as they transition into the digital-age. I think that McLuhan is in his right to warn us not to look into the future with our rear-view mirrors, but I would argue that there are so many valid projects that use these words (edition, archive, database, project). In addition, there are so many scholars that are not Price that don't think arsenal is the terminology that the technological community should be gravitating towards.

Maybe I'm still stuck in my writer view point. I like the focus on my written product, the thing that I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into and let THAT speak for me. Price clearly wants to shift away from this mindset with his use of the word "arsenal," because he thinks it can help lend to a different mindset. He ends his essay asking this question:

"Can we imagine a world in which what is emphasized is not the created thing so much as the group of people who are now joined together for a common purpose?" (Price).

I can imagine this world, but I don't know how I feel about it. I think there is value in literature, in art, in the beauty of the product. I'm a Wilde fangirl in that way. My hope is that the large-scale text-based electronic publishing world will find a happy medium that celebrates a collaboration of scholars as well as the product of their collaboration.

Give Me An Expanded Canon, or Give Me Literary Death

I think that blogger reschp2 makes a fantastic point by bringing up the destructive sex present in most of the cyberpunk literature we've been introduced to this week. I would agree with his analysis, and that the connection he draws between McLuhan and the presence of technology in cyberpunk literature, and that both McLuhan and the cyberpunk authors try to predict how technology will influence society through different genres (fiction and non-fiction).

However, I definitely agree with blogger realblueivy and her assertion that cyberpunk has given way to "alt lit" and other types of fiction that seem to have a broader definition, but still incorporate technology in a modern way.

After our readings for this week, and reading the responses from my classmates, I would argue that a lot of us don't see the point for cyberpunk literature. I mean, it's full of cliches, bad sex scenes, and writing that's hard to follow. So, what's the point? Why are we studying it?

I would assert that its value lies in its difference. Cyberpunk literature is, to me, like Beatnik poetry and prose. It's often misunderstood, thrown in a corner of 'only hipsters read this,' and never (or very rarely) taught in mainstream classrooms. However, I think teachers do a disservice to students by throwing out both of these genres.

I think that if they were incorporated into the canon, and taught side-by-side with the literature overlords we've come to know, love, and write terrible essays about, then we could create an entirely knew generation that produces writing that reflects a varied, global, and technologically influenced background. An argument could be made that alt lit is already doing this, but I think that alt lit is often seen as "teen lit" because of chat speak, and that there needs to be both an overhaul to how alt lit is written AND how it's perceived. All of this should be part of the same movement to expand the canon in a way that benefits EVERYONE.

Well, that's my opinion, anyway.

Here is a piece with an interview with William Gibson, and the last paragraph kind of encapsulates the point I'm trying to make. Everyone needs to read more of everything:

William Gibson Interview

But You Didn't Say WHY!

Reading Charles Stross' "Lobsters" and William Gibson's "Burning Chrome" from a twenty-first century perspective is interesting, to say the least. I am connected to the entire world by my fingertips, and I can surf the cybersphere in seconds. It makes me feel, in a way, that I am living in my own Virtual Reality. However, I think that the globally connected world that exists in 2014 is beyond what any cyberpunk writer could've predicted.

In "Burning Chrome," Gibson gives us the archetype for the hacker that we see in movies, books, and comics across genres. The two loner types, sitting on the edge of society, and going against the big, bad corporation. Then, Stross sets up our burning desire for artificial intelligence (A.I.), the interconnectedness of humanity and computers, and the growing legal presence of computers in society. Gibson and Stross give us both sides of the cyber stereotypes: the loner hacker fighting against Big Brother and the shiny scientific innovation becoming part of society.

I would argue that it's in these two stereotypes that we see the major growth that occurred in cyberpunk as the technological age grew into the twenty-first century.

Gibson's characters are separate, loners, and using their skills to fight Chrome and organized crime. In addition, their initial motivation centers around getting money to impress a girl. Throughout, I get the impression that their hacking skills, their interaction with computers, and their involvement in the digital world is all a means to an end.

Contrastingly, Stross' world centers around artificial intelligence, which is as far from "a means to an end" that one can get. The artificial (the technological) is integrated into the mind, and a legal precedent is set for uploaded minds in the story. Manfred, the main character, is integrated in a world that does not view the major integration of technology as something to be fought, and the technologically gifted (hackers and A.I.) aren't loners that exist in the periphery.

In my opinion, these stories grow as the technological age grows, and they are prime examples of how our literature is going to be continually hacked by the increasing presence of technology. However, there is something in these stories that is stagnant, dated, and unappealing: their treatment of women.

In "Burning Chrome," Rikki is actually working for a brothel tied to Chrome, and ends up leaving for Hollywood after integrating technology (a cybernetic eye) into her own body. It paints the picture of Rikki as a betrayer to Jack and Bobby, and as an idealized body being worshipped instead of an actual character.

In "Lobsters," Manfred's fiancée, Pamela, is even more problematically portrayed. She basically rapes Manny in order to get pregnant, so as to insure herself some "right" to his intellectual property and gains. It's diabolical, and there are no other positive female characters or influences in the story.

My question here is why? Why aren't there more women, why aren't they portrayed as fighting alongside Jack and Bobby, or interacting with the spiny lobsters? Why are they subjugated to the sidelines as foils to the main characters or idealized bodies for the loner hacker?

Obviously, the integration of technology into our literature is the focus this week as we consider cyberpunk as a genre; however, I think we cannot lose sight of other problematic issues in these stories simply because this is primarily a technology-centric class. At the end of the day, this is still literature, and it deserves all of our considerations, critiques, and whys.

Cut It, Fold It, Mash It, Hack It

Lemonlewis points out her issues with Robe Pope's "Re-writing Texts, Re-constructing the Subject: Work as Play on the Critical-Creative Interface," and I can understand her confusion. However, I think part of Pope's theory relies on a reader-response attitude, to an extent, because his idea assumes that each individual reader interacts with the text different, and through that interaction, creates something meaningful. In reader-response, we call this "the poem," but I think Pope's idea re-imagines an old idea. 

He proposes that what we re-write in our head is not only an interaction between reader and text, but a tool used to better understand the original text in a critical way. 

Awolewel raises a few questions about the validity of this juxtaposition between the original and the cut-up/mash/fold-in. He asks, "Is interpretation invasive?" (awolewel). In my opinion? Yes, it is invasive. 

But, I think that critical reading, thinking, and understanding is meant to be invasive, to both the writer and the reader. If the reader is not meant to interact with the text and produce their own original interpretations, then the text fails, in my opinion. Pope's ideas only take the interactive concept and push it a step further by suggesting re-imagined texts can be integrated in literary criticism. 

I was thinking about how exactly hacking texts allows the reader to better understand the original, and I came to the conclusion that it's similar to when you learn forms of poetry. For example, the Shakespearean sonnet has a very specific form that is easier to understand (in my opinion) when the writer/reader has engaged in writing an original sonnet. It allows the reader/writer to gain perspective about the effort that goes into creating sonnets; therefore, their understanding of other sonnets grows deeper. 

I would argue that this kind of writing method (cut-up, mash, fold-in, etc.) could be implemented in the tinkering pedagogy we talked about earlier, and help students simultaneously understand their own voice and the voice of the author's they're studying.