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inspiration

‘The Evolution of Books’

Reading an article by novelist Nick Harkaway on ‘The Evolution of Books‘, I was struck by what sounds like a very fitting description of bookleteer, particularly in the light of last year’s bookreader and QR code updates.

After concocting a brilliant, Terry Pratchett inspired scenario for future book technologies to diffuse any stale printed vs digital debates, Harkaway outlines what he believes is the real manifesto for books:

          “What is the future of the book? A physical object which communicates with the digital realm; a paper book which has an electronic shadow. A hybrid which sits easily in the on and offline world. 
”

Couldn’t have put it better myself.

Categories
inspiration news

‘Walking is political’

Let me draw your attention to a brilliantly written, striking piece which was featured in the Guardian a few weeks back. ‘Walking is political‘, by Will Self, is an edited version of his inaugural lecture as professor of contemporary thought at Brunel University, lamenting our increasing detachment from innate cognitive abilities when traversing the urban environment, and championing foot travel as a democratising force amongst spaces ever more dominated by corporate control.

Cue lengthy pause for breath.

Aside from being a fascinating read, it chimes with our aims for the City As Material series – to temporarily put aside our daily travel routines and concerns, the well trodden routes and second nature responses to familiar buildings and spaces, so that we may discover hidden facets of the city and in turn create work inspired by them. Instead of being blindly directed by technology, we use it to document our shared experiences, and evoke new forms of engagement with the places we live in and roam.

Speaking of which, we’re just in the process of finishing the books from City As Material 2. Stay tuned!

Categories
inspiration

Jonathan Franzen vs The ebook

On Monday, the Guardian published an article in which the novelist Jonathan Franzen condemned ebooks, warning that they have a negative effect on literature, and may actually be damaging to society. Whilst I’m inclined to agree with his statements about the nature of physical books, that they are permanent and reassuring tangible objects – monuments to writers’ visions, inscribed with great works – it seems he is speaking with a certain style of book in mind. Grand traditional novels, or epic modern sagas (like his own) that are often weighted by matter equal to their significance. Very real chunks of wood and ink, displaying their age and history, bearing messages to loved ones inside covers and messy notes in the margins.

I own both the printed book of his most recent novel ‘Freedom’, which I’m currently absorbed in, and the ebook, which I had first but didn’t start, despite my anticipation to start reading. The steady stream of text on the flat, grey Kindle screen failed to engage. I remembered the amazing experience of reading his previous book, and how affectionately dog-eared it is now. It was several months before I came across a copy and lunged for it.

This and other seminal novels deserve a commitment, often countered by lengthy, trying reads (thankfully not in Franzen’s case), and having to lug heavy books around. The argument that e-readers are able to contain thousands of books is valid, but carefree limitless access to anything isn’t always entirely positive. I find making the effort to single out one book can heighten the enjoyment.

But books that are liable to be read once (murder mysteries, review copies etc), reference texts, or collections of short stories are perfect for e-readers. They also allow access to out of print texts and numerous edited versions, and of course don’t require masses of trees to be felled. People with sight problems or disabilities can read with greater ease.

Franzen chooses to block access to the internet and uses noise-cancelling headphones whilst he is writing. Other writers choose to work accompanied by music, or in busy places. Readers can choose to remain devout to printed books, or they can leap into the world of the digital. They can straddle both, using hybrid platforms.

Freedom of choice.

Categories
inspiration

Read to Write

I wrote a few months back about the level of Narrative Immersion amongst different mediums – books, television, film, video games – championing the depth and unique experience that the written word affords. I was concentrating on the effects of these forms when using them purely for leisure, but the specific focus I’ve placed on literature is in part due to reading books not just for diversion, but as an active process, always mindful of ways to improve my craft as a writer and how to remain open to inspiration.

As much as what you’re reading can influence any subsequent writing, I find staying largely within the realm of text helps me to dedicate more time to these distinctly lo-fi pursuits, avoiding being too saturated with moving image mediums to concentrate, or becoming too fixated with games or other highly involving activities. Reading and writing generate imagery from within the individual (although they can be tinged by external events happening at that moment – noise, the weather, people, etc), rather than receiving it from a projecting device.

Of course, I’m influenced by all things, but it’s the more static forms like art, objects, or powerful images from films, seemingly captured with a mental camera, that allow me to visualise them later, tinkering and contrasting with other images for effect. This leads to the composition of a few sentences, and thus a starting point. There’s also direct personal experiences and sensations, particularly specific moments and microscopic details. Sometimes I wonder about the authenticity of material inspired by these sources, compared to the real world counterpart, or what actually happened, but what is creative writing if not rendering what you see and feel into words, which is then liable to be interpreted differently by each reader? Hounding out the truth can sometimes seem pointless – this isn’t journalism, though that includes a fair bit of fiction these days.

Being able to impose your own prism on the world is vital to create original and humane art. It can allow you to feel competent enough to make a mark, and to be compelled to write. Which, as the universal frustration over blank pages shows, is everything.

Categories
publishing on demand

Mind, Pen, Page

My last few posts have concentrated on the different effects of various mediums on readers, their output if you like, but, triggered by this eloquent article championing pen on paper featured recently in The New York Review of Books, I’ve been thinking about the effects of various methods of input on writers and their work.

And how systematic terms like ‘input’ and ‘output’ manage to constantly leak into my writing. Bah.

Aside from blogging and more technical project text, I use a pen and several different notebooks in my practice. One hard-wearing pocket notebook for ideas and notes related to projects I’m working on, as well as random thoughts and interesting words and quotes. One tiny notebook for scribbled bits of more creative writing, normally segments of poetic pieces, which are then edited and given form on a computer later, sometimes channeled longhand through paper first. One large notebook for lengthier and more fluid prose writing.

Keeping these separate is an attempt to conjure up the different frames of mind necessary for each style of writing, although inevitably they cross over, as is the nature of human thoughts. Handwriting (if you could call mine that, I exclusively use block capitals for EVERYTHING), instead of typing, is also conducive in my case to articulate ideas quicker and smoother than via a computer intermediary – from mind, to pen, to page. I intentionally left out hand, as a pen seems almost like a natural extension of it, rather than fragmented, systematic typing – even more so as I use only two or three fingers feverishly.

Using pen and paper to create, a screen to edit, then various forms of file sharing (E-mailing text to myself and others, Dropbox) to archive and disseminate material seems to me like a natural evolution of ideas and consecutive output. Like a snowball rolling downhill, accumulating stray threads of grass and loose stones, gradually gaining form and weight, then finally smashing into a multitude of pieces, spreading its essence – if you’ll forgive my poncy analogy.

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ideas & suggestions

Narrative Immersion

I focused on how technology can enhance and change our engagement with narratives in a previous post, so I’m going to step back and look at the highly immersive nature of text-based books as a medium.

After recently finishing a book and scanning my shelves for my next literary foray, my eyes settled on a fairly large book, and although initially daunted by its length, knowing that it would take me a fair while to finish even if engrossed, I soon started to relish the idea. I realised I would have a portable, episodic experience that I could dip into for the next few weeks, becoming instantly immersed as I did so – the narrative spurring ever more interest and giving heightened importance to the outcome (due to discovering more about the characters and investing in their stories), and possibly even gaining relevance to external events as I progressed.

Being able to burn through an entire book in one go makes the experience rather like watching a film; reading it in parts is more akin to a TV series, or a video game with a story that is revealed as the player moves ahead. It could be suggested the latter two allow a greater level of expectation and intrigue to build between narrative points (due to the real-world time elapsed), but all three mediums still dictate visual messages to the audience, albeit being open to multiple interpretations. Books allow the reader to paint their own visuals in their mind, forming structures within, giving characters familiar faces from their own lives, and grasping unique meanings from what is said and done, filtered through their own past and ideologies. In short, they are dictated by readers as well as authors, leading to individual, self-contained experiences which change as they are reread later on in life.

It will be interesting to see how as technology constantly moves forward and the standard of presenting stories evolves beyond text and the spoken word how this experience might be preserved. Might it even be mimicked, through bespoke forms of virtual reality systems, or audio books where the choice of narrator is tailored to the listener?

Categories
ideas & suggestions

Shuffling Narrative

After my previous post speculating on the ways touchscreen devices will change the way readers engage with books and other texts in the future, I recalled an interesting example in the present.

The iPhone and iPad ‘A Visit from the Goon Squad‘ e-book app provides an option to re-order the hectic, backwards and forth narrative into chronological order, or even shuffle the chapters at random. However, these options are only available once the book has been read in its original order, meaning Jennifer Egan’s intended meaning won’t be lost.

This reminds me of cheat functions in video games, often unlocked once players complete the main body of the game (commonly known as “story mode”), granting them new ways to play and the ability to revisit past levels. This parallel seems like it could develop in the future – we might see e-books that reward readers for their time, or even their ways of interpreting the text, perhaps via intelligently recognised digital annotations, conceivably being used in an education context.

I suspect that being able to automate our interpretations and responses to literature and other art forms isn’t an entirely good idea, however. I think technology should facilitate and enhance engagement with them, but not instrumentalise the human element – our spontaneous, inspired, and unique reactions to works of art.

Categories
events

‘Sense and the City’ at the London Transport Museum

An enjoyable exhibition called Sense and the City is now on at the London Transport Museum, which explores new ways how our understanding, experience and perception of the city is continually re-shaped by the rapid changes occurring in technology and IT.

The same categories of space and time are radically put into question as the access and fusibility of information is massively altered and boosted by open data, smartphones, and a blizzard of new apps. It is noteworthy to realise how the unconstrained use of these devices make us think of the city, of its vastness and complexity, in a totally different way. It seems we can cover the city, physically and imaginatively, much easier and faster than before. However, the abundance and redundancy of data produced and incessantly consumed, add intricacy and diverse levels of meaning to our vision of the city.

A distinguishing feature underpinning any present project or prototype for future research – as the ones presented by the Royal College of Art – is the restless attention on every consumer’s feeling and perception of the environment which has to be shared and fall in the public domain. The only risk is to accumulate data over data just for the sake of it, and the question is whether out of this over-exposure to information and stimulus we’ll ever find a substantial thread.