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Aarseth and MLK
January 21st there is no class as it is MLK day. For the following Monday read Aarseth’s Cybertext. Pay particular attention to the first four chapters as this is where we will concentrate our efforts. Once you have done the reading you can post your question/thoughts here (by Saturday the 26th at 11:59PM). Remember to focus on one specific aspect of the reading rather than trying to comment on all 180 pages.
Note:If you are reading ahead to Lolita you do not need to read the introduction.
14 Users Commented In " Aarseth and MLK "
Just something that might be interesting:
A story about Cellphone novels:
After reading the first four chapters of Cybertext by Aarseth, I didn’t realize the complexities that was involved in developing text into both a linear and nonlinear narrative; even multilinear narratives are explained in relation to the emergence of the electronic medium where interactivity seems to be prominent.
What grabbed my interest is the issue of hypertext in Chapter 4. To create such a non linear form of literature in multimedia format raises the question: “Is Hypertext created by today’s technology a form of collaboration between the author and the reader to construct the narrative?” Aarseth does offer “Afternoon” and “Hegirascope” as examples of what occurs in hypertext but without reading them I still did not fully comprehend it. Ironically, I do have a book that covers such an issue. In “Digital Art” by Christiane Paul, several works were displayed where text and reader interact with one another, allowing the reader to pursue his or her mental construction of the text provided for them. The works that I have found are listed below and you all can google the work and the author if you like:
“Text Rain” by Camille Utterback and Romy Achituv, 1999
“Tap, Type, Write” by John Maeda, 1998
“Talmud Project” by David Small, 1999
“Stream of Consciousness/Interactive Poetic Garden” by David Small and Tom White, 1999
“Rehearsal of Memory” by Graham Harwood, 1996
“”ScruTiny in the Great Round” by Jim Gasperini and Tennessee Rice Dixon, 1996
These examples I believe gave me a better understanding of hypertext and hypermedia. It seems that the author constructs text that gives the reader the ability to participate. In a way it’s like the author saying “here you go, have fun figuring it out.”
Check out the link below, it is a great site that offer great resource on hypertext.
In the first four chapters of Cybertext, Aarseth debunks the magical status of narratives embedded in, or labeled as new media through critical analysis and empirical data. He develops a topology that delineates the traversal (or explorative) functions available to the reader that disposes narratives from textons and scriptons. With this topology, a representative sample of texts and analysis software, he demonstrates a nearly equal distribution of ergodic qualities among works on paper and in electronic formats. Indeed, a multicursal labyrinth structure often attributed to the invention of hypertext is found in the thousands-of-years-old Chinese text I Ching that contains 4,096 possible texts. Aarseth also argues that hypertext often exerts greater author control on the reader than traditional paper contrary to its presumed liberation of the reader.
The fourth chapter examines the well-known Storyspace powered story-puzzle Afternoon. He comments on previous analyses and explores his own way of thinking about the relationship between “text-machines” and narratives. I think Aarseth is attempting to give us a new and more rational way to think about cybertext narratives by positing ergodics as a narratological dimension in addition to description and narration while diminishing the role of the delivery medium as a determinant. The fourth chapter provides the following examples on page 95:
- A narrative consists of description and narration
- A game consists of description and ergodics
- A reference work consist of descriptions and ergodics
- Ergodic literature consists of description, narration and ergodics (like Afternoon)
For me, the topology presented in the third chapter and the simple explanations above hidden in the fourth chapter were the most accessible parts of the discussion as I am not familiar with all the cited works and established conventions of narratology. If I read this correctly, Aarseth was a bit tentative about his proposed topology, but I think it works rather well.
Note: Aarseth’s topology for ergodics (exploratory functions) includes seven dimensions with 18 sub-categories for 576 unique combinations. See pp 62-65.
http://eastgate.com/storyspace/
http://www.eastgate.com/catalog/Afternoon.html
First off let me say that for many reasons this is one of the most confusing texts I have had to read. With that in mind I picked a very specific thing to post about. And, hopefully after the next class I will will comprehend the greater picture behind Cybertext.
My interest is on page 78 and 79 concerning Aarseth’s discussion of tmesis as it pertains to hypertext and the traditional codex form. I find it puzzling to see him flip the idea of hypertext being the non-linear form of the two. Although I partially agree with him, it would be wrong to privilege one form over the other in terms of linearity and non-linearity. I find it somewhat pointless to try and ascertain the complexity of how all readers might navigate different forms of text.
I’m not sure I can appreciate his idea of hyperlinear reading either. However, I do understand and agree with him when he says given the differences between hypertext systems it is dangerous to construct general theories about hypertext literature.
“We must look at each system as a potentially different technical medium, with aesthetically distinct consequences.”
The book Cybertext had two definitions that I wanted to concentrate on and discuss:
1.Ergodic: using a term appropriated from physics that derives from the Greek words ergon and hodos, meaning ‘work’ and ‘path.’ In ergodic literature, nontrivial effort is required to allow the reader to traverse the text
2.Cybertext (which he seems to have many different viewpoints on):
a.The concept of cybertext focuses on the mechanical organization of the text, by positing the intricacies of the medium as an
integral part of the literary exchange.(1)
b.A cybertext is a machine for the production of variety of expression.(3)
c.The cybertext reader is a player, a gambler; the cybertext is a game-world or world-game; it is possible to explore, get lost, and discover secret paths in these texts, not metaphorically, but through the topological structures of the textual machinery. (4)
d.Cybertext is a perspective I use to describe and explore the communicational strategies of dynamic texts.(5)
e. Cybertext, then, is not a “new,” “revolutionary” form of text, with capabilities only made possible through the invention of the digital computer. Neither is it a radical break with old-fashioned textuality, although it would be easy to make it appear so. Cybertext is a perspective on all forms of textuality, a way to expand the scope of literary studies to include phenomena that today are perceived as outside of, or marginalized by, the field of literature-or even in opposition to it, for (as I make clear later) purely extraneous reasons. (18)
f.A cybertext must contain some kind of information feedback loop. (19)
g.[Cybertext] is the wide range (or perspective) of possible textualities of seen as a typology of machines, as various kinds of literary communication systems where the functional differences among the mechanical parts play a defining role in determining the aesthetic process.(22)
Many of these literary concepts were new and difficult for me to grasp. I thought about his use of ergodic as it seem to be a macro concept with a broad interpretation — a path that is traversed by readers — as cybertext seems to be more like a micro concept with many interpretations and usages throughout the book.
What I struggle the most with is how evolution from my perspective naturally changes the face of literature (or anything for that matter) over time. The author points out Egyptian hieroglyphs, poems, books, hypertext, adventure games, etc. The natural progression from symbol communication forms, to written, to computer aided seem more like logical progressions as we advance in form as a species. I am not sure why we need to distinguish the progression to so many granual levels>> ergodic|cybertext|hypertext>> and so on…in the understanding and power of literature or the written word. Why the need to distinguish this form of literature as so different? That is what I look forward to hearing more about in class, maybe then I can have a better appreciation for the subject matter as whole.
I’d like to comment on an idea I had while reading chapter 4.
On page 81 Aarseth discusses the ontological (their state of existence) differences of Web documents compared to other formats. Aarseth states that the author retains control of his work with a Web document, whereas once a book [or other format] is sold that work is beyond the author’s control. This idea makes me question the definition of one work in print versus a changing work of hypertext. If the author makes a change to a hypertext, “without any reader’s knowledge” (Aarseth 81) does that hypertext then retain its original intended form or does it then become an entirely new work? Surely changes like correcting spelling errors do not change the work. But what about adding or removing an entire section? Does that change the hypertext to a new version or edition?
Perhaps it’s best to not define the hypertext by the more rigid requirements of traditional text.
I want to start off by saying that I found this text much more interesting and relevant to my life as a journalist than I expected. I was particularly struck by several passages in Chapter 8 of the book that dealt with democracy in cyber-media.
While it might not have been the case when the book was published, George Landow’s idea that “hypertext blurs the boundary between author and reader” has become almost a non-negotiable truth in media circles. And it’s something that media outlets, particularly newspapers, have driven. Media outlets want readers/viewers to feel like they have ownership in the product, like it’s their own personal news source. They want readers to feel like they have a voice. That’s why newspapers nationwide have been printing up special editions for specific neighborhoods, and printing up niche product after niche product. Look at the Dallas Morning News’ community Web sites. There are a few editors that police the sites, but they’re otherwise completely reader-driven. The authors are the readers and the readers are authors.
With that in mind, my question would be whether hypertext and other forms of cyber-media merely blurs or obliterates the line between author and reader? If a reader can skip around through a document at will, who’s to say they’re not the author of that work or a completely different one? Why can’t their name be on the book or newspaper article? And if they take part in the article, don’t they have equal right to be considered an author? It may seem strange, but in all my years as a reporter, I never once felt like an author. Sometimes I felt like a writer, but primarily I considered myself a fact-gatherer. No matter how much I gussied up the writing, the final product was always dependent on what others told me. In other words, there’s no story if nobody talks. Would cyber-media exist if nobody participated?
On terminology.
I have to agree with the author when he states that there is a lack of clear terminology regarding the issue at hand (computer media and cybertexts). It would even seem as if there’s some sort of competition amongst the people studying the field of cybertexts (or any field for that matter, actually) as to who can come up with new terms to designate what cannot be easily placed within a determinate frame; or perhaps is it that they’re caught in a cycle of creating buzzwords to see what sticks around long enough to make the dictionary? Or are there ideological and/or commercial reasons behind it all, as the author seems to suggest? However, in the end, it seems unlikely that someone could come up with this “ideal” terminology on which everyone can agree; thus, wouldn’t every attempt generate more confusion than understanding? Or would this confusion help us to incorporate multiple viewpoints to get a greater view of the chaos we’ve gotten ourselves into?
I’ll have to agree with some of the other comments that this text was a little more difficult to digest. However Aarasth makes some valid points about cybertext. I have decided to focus on Chapter 2 and ‘Texuality, Nonlinearity, and Interactivity,’ as this has a lot to do with my final project/thesis. The passage that struck me the most was
“Once a machine is interactive, the need for human-to-human interaction, sometimes even human action, is viewed as radically diminished, or gone altogether, as in interactive pedagogy.”
Which I would almost argue against in interactivity. If anything, we are attempting to make the interactive element, whatever the element is, more human-like. There is no way to completely remove the human-to-human interaction. Though it might be artificial, we are always attempting to improve upon the human interactivity of man and machine. Not to mention that you can’t remove the author from the machine. There will always be some component within the interactivity that holds a piece of the author, more then what we may visibly see.
What I didn’t like about this passage was that Aarasth left his interpretation open-ended. There wasn’t as much of an ending or more interpretation of how he viewed texuality, linearity, and interactivity. I didn’t really feel I understood what he was trying to get at by explaining, in a somewhat cut and dry manner, what he was trying to present to the reader. If anything I am wondering more and more about interactivity and why it can only be applied to the user and an adventure game, in his example. What really makes hypertext, in this situation, interactive? Why is it not tied in more to linear and non-linearity? Maybe it’s the way that I was reading the passage, but I felt that none of the questions presented in this text were left half-answered.
What is Text?
I kept reading this book thinking, “Are Spoken Words text?”. If I go by the definition that is in the book, or by that I mean, how the author described text, then yes. His definition is “…any object with primary function to relay verbal information. I do hear people say that they “read” a book, and when I asked them more questions it turned out that they had either bought the audible book, or bought the book on CD’s. Does the ability to decide what track or to even rewind or fast forward qualify as functions of text? After all, audio is just bunch of 1’s and 0’s decoded and delivered as sound by the decoding device. What we call hieroglyphics (or what Ancient Egyptians just called text in their day) are a series of pictures that represent thoughts. To take this to another level, Hanzi, or Chinese characters, are actual little images that represent ideas more than words. These are definitely text, but I am not sure if they represent typology. All of these represent verbal information. Borges has said that some of the greatest writers were actually Orators. What they were to speak or what they wrote was for the purpose of orating. Which brings me back to the question I had…Are spoken words, text. I believe spoken words are text. I do not know if text that is spoken is ergodic. It would depend on whether the audio or the orator have interactive qualities, also it would depend on whether the author is reading or speaking the text, or if someone (not the author) is reading the text.
To the artist, much control is lost when any work, particularly a narrative, is encoded into hypertext on the world wide web. From that point, the sampling of sections of a narrative as a newer, more derivative work— not necessarily of the artist’s original intention— can be created. This contradicts Aarseth’s assertion of place and presentation of narratives in Chapter 4, which is my area of interest.
Aarseth states “a world wide web document, on the other hand, exist(s) only in one place—on the world wide web server where the author (or document owner) has placed it.” (Aarseth, 81) He goes on to explain how an author has no ability to correct, improve or otherwise alter the text when distributed by CD-Rom or printed version to a mass audience (largely true, but not entirely so), and that the web gives the narrrative “a sense of place.” I would assume that he is suggesting that narrative, like other forms of art, deserves a place to be viewed, and that the world wide web provides such a place for the author.
I disagree with some of these assertions. It seems to be that control of any content is lost once placed on the web. While the original content would arguably remain on the author’s designated server, several generations, derivation or mutation of the work, could possibly appear on other servers, giving the author less control. It is well-known that authors proof their work before it is printed, and the web could be seen as a proving ground for any narrative work. But it must be expected that certain rights are relinquished when publishing anything on the world wide web. And whereas Aarseth notes that a book or CD-Rom falls out of the author’s control once sold, I would argue that a work also suffers the same fate when uploaded.
Which brings me to my question: when does authorship end and readership begin? If the reader is a reader-author as Landow suggested, do we dismiss the concept of authorship (in the sense of ownership of the entire work) and accept any derivation as a separate form of a creative work? Is the paradigm for narrative changing, or has this always existed (as I suspect) in some form or other? Could it be said that the reader’s interpretation of a text is its own separate narrative, not necessarily philologically, but in some other cognitive sense?
Re-readings (by a single reader) and multiple readings (a single reading by several people) of a multidimensional cybertext are related notions that I found particularly interesting in this text. We all know, and Nabokov (for one) has written on the subject, that each time we read a text, we, in a sense, read a new text because we discover different ideas or engage with it on a deeper level. The idea being that the deeper or closer you read—by engaging and interacting with the text—the more you approach understanding the author’s original intent. What happens then when we re-read a cybertext, which according to Espen Aarseth is “…a machine for the production of a variety of expression” (3)? Can we ever really read it in the same “order,” never mind the different perspective with which we might approach it the second, third, or succeeding times. And what happens if the author is periodically changing, revising, manipulating the text, as is now possible?
Aarseth maintains that different people reading the same cybertext will recognize it as the same text (74). But what does this mean really? Two people reading a “traditional” hard-bound book will come away with different interpretations and perspectives, sometimes so wildly different that they wonder if they read the same text. I wonder, then, if two (or more) people read the “same” cybertext, with increased surface area, movement, and the multitude of connection points inherent in the net (Umberto Eco) of which it is composed, and in which each reader can manipulate the narrative, to whatever degree possible, how it could really be the same text? What would be the essential characteristics or features that would make it the same text? What would make it recognizable?
So Aarseth goes through a nice collection of codex and hyper texts to eventually tell us that “new media do not appear in opposition to the old but as emulators of features and functions that are already invented” and that the “evolution of … print forms … make digital texts possible.”
Great! Our field of study is a pixilated clone of the English department. As much as I want to say he’s wrong and electronic texts really do bring something previously unimaginable to the reading experience, I can’t. We put newspapers online for a while and nothing changed. Well, writers rushed to be first and editors missed more mistakes, but they were still nothing but newspapers on the computer screen. This is great for green living, not so great for introducing a new way to encounter news. The same thing happened with movies and television – the latter is just a smaller (although not much smaller anymore) version of the former.
If we encounter a text on a screen in the same way we encounter it in a book we get nothing more from it. Sure, we can skim, search for words or whatever else, but reading is reading, no matter what. My question (which may not have anything to do with the reading, but it’s where the book took me) is why are we not moving toward a more sensually integrated experience? We have the technology to watch videos on the same screen we read books. Why aren’t we integrating more audio and video into our cybertexts while we expand the “text” field? The closest thing I’ve seen is the game structure, but wouldn’t bringing sound and video to the printed words enhance a text just as adding a soundtrack enhances games and film?
Could we still call that a cybertext, or just a really loud narrative?
I found Aarseth’s comments on tmesis, or skipping, interesting, showing that traditional texts are truly interactive in their own right, as readers may choose to read in whatever fashion they wish. While most readers read chronologically, most everyone finds passages they may just skim over in an effort to get to the action, and I know several people who prefer to read the ending prior to the completion of the story because they hate surprises! Aarseth quotes Barthes on this subject, stating that the author “cannot choose to write what will not be read.” This statement rang true to me and also reminded me that content is subject to interpretation, and each reader (or viewer of an artwork) may interpret the work on a more personal level, incorporating their own experiences and ideas in the narrative. Each individual reading a narrative may interpret it in different ways as they consider their own emotions, etc., which makes all narrative highly interactive. Aarseth goes further to state that fiction must also interact with the reader in another way, stating that fiction needs a reader who can suspend disbelief, “just as a lie needs a believer in order to work.” So here we have another instance of interactivity. I think it is interesting to consider traditional texts in this fashion, rather than excluding them from the definition of hypertext and so on by defining those ergodic works as “interactive” –a definition like that would not set them apart in any way from traditional texts, as all texts are interactive. Therefore, we must consider other aspects of the ergodic text and determine what really makes it different than a classic book.