Nelson Lowhim's Blog, page 120
May 1, 2015
The Libraries' Dilemma
I love libraries and I especially love public libraries. You probably can’t imagine my joy when, as a child, I entered a library and was told that I could check out as many books as I wanted. I was certain that they were fools and proceeded to check out more books than I could've ever read. This habit plagues me to the day, by the way; I've more books than I could possibly read in my remaining life (and books I want to read, at that), and yet I still buy more and more books. Why is this? Some sort of addiction? Consumerism gone wrong (or possibly a self-righteous kind)?
But I digress. My love affair with libraries continued on in college where I would wander those infinite stacks looking for some book which would highlight some long unknown fact (or still the disquiet inside). I did find a few good books to read, though I'd much less success with my secondary aim of finding a female student for the much touted “intimacy in the stacks": a tradition that apparently all other students were vigorously abiding by as a study break.
I digress again. Sorry about that. Back to my love for libraries. As time forced me to be more of a coyote when dealing with books (going right to the book I want rather than being a dog and sniffing everything that piqued my curiosity), my love for libraries waned. In fact, when I moved out to the suburbs, I found myself less and less attracted to libraries. To say that the book choices were limited goes without saying, and though inter-library loans alleviated that to some extent, it meant that I could not love the library, though I may have loved libraries. For the activities that lovers do to wile away time and discover more about themselves were no longer available, no longer choices. Now our relationship was much too business-like.
Matter were made worse by the series of libraries I'd been visiting. Apparently, I'd missed when the once sacred silence and its accompanying librarian “shush” had been overthrown. Some underground revolution with its grassroots movement and spokesperson had happened without my knowing, I imagined, where the silent throne was deemed too oppressive for the people. Now libraries had become almost-boisterous areas where even the librarians joined in on the extroversions. And even though these places were noisy, they still managed to be completely devoid of life.
Not only that, but there was a definite suburbanization with regard to the layout of the libraries themselves: they were large, expansive, open, with bright lights everywhere (to cut down on the street/stack crime, I suppose) and much too wide spaces between the desks and book shelves. All this was housed in buildings that could only be considered high ceilinged warehouses. This meant that one couldn’t escape the noises or that one couldn’t truly burrow themselves somewhere and just read or study. Confessions of an introvert? Perhaps, but I would say that many people would appreciate such abilities.
Now, I understand that this could all be more a matter of me not the libraries, but it troubled me to no end. Were there no libraries out there that could rekindle my love? Was it a matter of my passage through time?
Well, I set off to find out. But no amount of asking or clicking though galleries online revealed anything to my liking. Sure, there were plenty of churches or opera houses converted into libraries (why no prisons? These would surely be the best buildings to convert to libraries, while also helping our nation move away from its odd love affair), their gilded ceilings providing baroque backgrounds. But one look at their layouts, grand as they were, and I knew that they'd be more of the same in terms of how a human could react to its space. After all, the libraries I talked about didn’t just need some sparkling door frames or gilded ceilings (though some art placement couldn’t have hurt).
And the funny thing was, it was when I'd given up all hope, resigned myself to a subpar library (albeit with good borrowing abilities), that I stumbled upon a perfect library. Through a side door in an art gallery I saw on a country road. The side door opened to an old warehouse. One look at the arrangement and desire swept over me, right after recognition swooped me off my feet (and what’s desire but a kind of recognition?).
The industrial shelves and the various desks and chairs were placed throughout the warehouse floor with a center for art made up of a stage (used for occasional plays or other theatrical devices) and desks and chairs. The shelves sprouted from this circle into a maze. And not just some simple maze. No, it was something like a series of oddly shaped hallways with places of rest (places to curl up with a book) located here and there, as well as ladders to get up to the next ledge, or tunnels into the ground for more lairs of books.
Now, I’m not trying to give the impression that this was some infinite labyrinth ala Borges, rather, I’m trying to point out how, with limited space and books, someone was able to make a library a beautiful thing, a place for discovery, a place to love. The lighting was perfectly variable from bright to low. Mirrors helped to provide the illusion of infinite hallways. And that was enough. Any naked wall that didn’t have a painting hanging up was open to being written on or spray painted on (the needed tools right there) by the patrons of the library. And no, it wasn’t a series of names and dates and hearts. Real art was being created.
The order of the books was also something to behold. Though I saw a few labels, some geographic, others claiming certain ailments of authors and others still. I could not truly discern any pattern and yet this did not prevent me from discovering some fantastic books. My favorite was the current event set of shelves. The Syrian Civil War, for example, had pretty much the entire history of Syria, of insurgencies, of cruelty of... well just about everything you could think about, both fiction and non-fiction. The #BlackLivesMatter shelves were even more interesting. And each would have a few librarian's recommendations listed.
I was to find out later that the books’ possible layout was a great controversy. Some claimed it was random (as far as overall layout), while others claimed there was some link—temporal or otherwise—from one set of shelves to another. As for the current event shelves, those in themselves were controversial, though in a different way. A lot of people didn't agree that one should read Montaigne or Dante to better understand the Syrian Civil War, and so sabotage was a very real problem. Several librarians patrolled the library for this reason. The ones I saw were massive and brooked no dissension. They had a secondary effect of maintaining silence.
The most important thing was that I was in love again. The life contained in the library (there was a table with some teabags, hot water, and coffee for the taking) is indeed something to behold. The conversations here are not to be missed. And the intellectual buzz is obvious from the moment you step in and see people discovering and reading.
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But I digress. My love affair with libraries continued on in college where I would wander those infinite stacks looking for some book which would highlight some long unknown fact (or still the disquiet inside). I did find a few good books to read, though I'd much less success with my secondary aim of finding a female student for the much touted “intimacy in the stacks": a tradition that apparently all other students were vigorously abiding by as a study break.
I digress again. Sorry about that. Back to my love for libraries. As time forced me to be more of a coyote when dealing with books (going right to the book I want rather than being a dog and sniffing everything that piqued my curiosity), my love for libraries waned. In fact, when I moved out to the suburbs, I found myself less and less attracted to libraries. To say that the book choices were limited goes without saying, and though inter-library loans alleviated that to some extent, it meant that I could not love the library, though I may have loved libraries. For the activities that lovers do to wile away time and discover more about themselves were no longer available, no longer choices. Now our relationship was much too business-like.
Matter were made worse by the series of libraries I'd been visiting. Apparently, I'd missed when the once sacred silence and its accompanying librarian “shush” had been overthrown. Some underground revolution with its grassroots movement and spokesperson had happened without my knowing, I imagined, where the silent throne was deemed too oppressive for the people. Now libraries had become almost-boisterous areas where even the librarians joined in on the extroversions. And even though these places were noisy, they still managed to be completely devoid of life.
Not only that, but there was a definite suburbanization with regard to the layout of the libraries themselves: they were large, expansive, open, with bright lights everywhere (to cut down on the street/stack crime, I suppose) and much too wide spaces between the desks and book shelves. All this was housed in buildings that could only be considered high ceilinged warehouses. This meant that one couldn’t escape the noises or that one couldn’t truly burrow themselves somewhere and just read or study. Confessions of an introvert? Perhaps, but I would say that many people would appreciate such abilities.
Now, I understand that this could all be more a matter of me not the libraries, but it troubled me to no end. Were there no libraries out there that could rekindle my love? Was it a matter of my passage through time?
Well, I set off to find out. But no amount of asking or clicking though galleries online revealed anything to my liking. Sure, there were plenty of churches or opera houses converted into libraries (why no prisons? These would surely be the best buildings to convert to libraries, while also helping our nation move away from its odd love affair), their gilded ceilings providing baroque backgrounds. But one look at their layouts, grand as they were, and I knew that they'd be more of the same in terms of how a human could react to its space. After all, the libraries I talked about didn’t just need some sparkling door frames or gilded ceilings (though some art placement couldn’t have hurt).
And the funny thing was, it was when I'd given up all hope, resigned myself to a subpar library (albeit with good borrowing abilities), that I stumbled upon a perfect library. Through a side door in an art gallery I saw on a country road. The side door opened to an old warehouse. One look at the arrangement and desire swept over me, right after recognition swooped me off my feet (and what’s desire but a kind of recognition?).
The industrial shelves and the various desks and chairs were placed throughout the warehouse floor with a center for art made up of a stage (used for occasional plays or other theatrical devices) and desks and chairs. The shelves sprouted from this circle into a maze. And not just some simple maze. No, it was something like a series of oddly shaped hallways with places of rest (places to curl up with a book) located here and there, as well as ladders to get up to the next ledge, or tunnels into the ground for more lairs of books.
Now, I’m not trying to give the impression that this was some infinite labyrinth ala Borges, rather, I’m trying to point out how, with limited space and books, someone was able to make a library a beautiful thing, a place for discovery, a place to love. The lighting was perfectly variable from bright to low. Mirrors helped to provide the illusion of infinite hallways. And that was enough. Any naked wall that didn’t have a painting hanging up was open to being written on or spray painted on (the needed tools right there) by the patrons of the library. And no, it wasn’t a series of names and dates and hearts. Real art was being created.
The order of the books was also something to behold. Though I saw a few labels, some geographic, others claiming certain ailments of authors and others still. I could not truly discern any pattern and yet this did not prevent me from discovering some fantastic books. My favorite was the current event set of shelves. The Syrian Civil War, for example, had pretty much the entire history of Syria, of insurgencies, of cruelty of... well just about everything you could think about, both fiction and non-fiction. The #BlackLivesMatter shelves were even more interesting. And each would have a few librarian's recommendations listed.
I was to find out later that the books’ possible layout was a great controversy. Some claimed it was random (as far as overall layout), while others claimed there was some link—temporal or otherwise—from one set of shelves to another. As for the current event shelves, those in themselves were controversial, though in a different way. A lot of people didn't agree that one should read Montaigne or Dante to better understand the Syrian Civil War, and so sabotage was a very real problem. Several librarians patrolled the library for this reason. The ones I saw were massive and brooked no dissension. They had a secondary effect of maintaining silence.
The most important thing was that I was in love again. The life contained in the library (there was a table with some teabags, hot water, and coffee for the taking) is indeed something to behold. The conversations here are not to be missed. And the intellectual buzz is obvious from the moment you step in and see people discovering and reading.
Enjoyed the writing? Please share it via email, facebook, twitter, or one of the buttons below (or through some other method you prefer). Thank you! As always, here's the tip jar. Throw some change in there.
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April 27, 2015
Something in the air
There’s something in the air these days. I’m not talking about the plethora of grassroots movements all aimed against the organized/age-old iniquities of the day; the result of which might be a more focused anger aimed at these halls of powers and their iniquities. This, of course, is a welcome change to the parade of hagiographies we see on the left and right of the mainstream media when they talk about the halls of power (except, apparently, when a sex scandal is involved).Nevertheless, I would like to focus on that: the odd need to never doubt those in power (to include all aristocratic affectations that the media tends to like) while always doubting those who rail against it (ignoring the Democrat-Republican tribalism that provides a side show to many real issues).
Now, I’m not making as simplistic a judgement as saying one side is always good while another is always bad (referring to power and the powerless). But I tend to side with the powerless as the responsibility, and the vast majority of the blood, usually is on the former’s hands.
What am I trying to say? That people out there need to focus on the facts and to stop being so enamored with power and the shiny things they accumulate. Perhaps I’m wrong? Perhaps it’s more a matter of fear? That people understand power’s ruthlessness and amorality and would rather be loyal—and thus fed—dogs, than hunted dogs on the street? Maybe. [1]
This, of course, is the amoral choice of neo-liberalism (and, to some extent, secularism, as practiced in Western countries today, to say nothing of many of my beloved fellow atheists) which only helps power in this matter. It should go without saying that any such self-serving (and thus power-serving) “rationalism” will not survive anything but the calmest waters of history.
And so I go back to that “something” in the air (or that zeitgeist); a restriction of the lungs, really, and I know that something is coming. The coming constriction of resources [2], as well as the available ideologies (I'm speaking of that neoliberalism here, as well as whatever the right wing is peddling) will certainly heat up the air.
What to do then? What answers do I have? That, dear reader, is something I will provide and soon. Thing is, the worshipping of power (in whichever form) does need to be dismantled, for it only blinds us to the true issues (and bends us towards tribalism). We should note at some point in the past, during the reigns of monarchies, those kings in power certainly had their "legitimate" reasons for having power. And even if we are to apply some level of meritocratic reasoning, they had—at some point in their past, speaking of their families, their ancestors—earned those positions. This didn’t make their positions any less unfair and in the end, unstable—morally and thus physically speaking. We should be aware of this as meritocracy is crammed down our throats (I hear the cries against the violence of those dispossessed). It has nothing to do with deserving. For that allows power to simply be, unchecked. And power is not meant just to be, it’s meant to be there for the betterment of all, and to check iniquities, lest it lose a reason for being. [3]
[1]But to those without a choice, to those forced towards the latter, the world is a cruel place.
[2] If the scientists are to be believed; let me also say that I don’t speak of only the mineral kind of minerals.
[3] Note that this argument is switched from deserving, to this is the best for all of us, as is needed to win said argument. Don’t fall for this goal post switching.
[Well, I wrote this a few days before the riots in Baltimore broke out. But I suppose now is better than never, being that many reactions to the violence—not state sanctioned—seem to be ignorant at best. For now my thoughts go out to the people of Baltimore]
Update: To be sure, all those calling for non-violence in Baltimore must be honest about what non-violence has so far achieved. Please be honest. Also, here's a better article than anything I could write (Coates at Atlantic).And while we're on topic of riots, let's remind ourselves about how much has changed: Here's an interview by James Baldwin on the matter. Brilliant as always. And Notes of a Native Son, which is nothing short of a classic. Enjoy, people, and to anyone calling for non-violence or saying something else so shortsighted. Read more. Thank you.
Enjoyed the writing? Please share it via email, facebook, twitter, or one of the buttons below (or through some other method you prefer). Thank you! As always, here's the tip jar. Throw some change in there and help cover the costs! Then Subscribe to my mailing list* indicates requiredEmail Address * First Name Last Name Email Format
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Now, I’m not making as simplistic a judgement as saying one side is always good while another is always bad (referring to power and the powerless). But I tend to side with the powerless as the responsibility, and the vast majority of the blood, usually is on the former’s hands.
What am I trying to say? That people out there need to focus on the facts and to stop being so enamored with power and the shiny things they accumulate. Perhaps I’m wrong? Perhaps it’s more a matter of fear? That people understand power’s ruthlessness and amorality and would rather be loyal—and thus fed—dogs, than hunted dogs on the street? Maybe. [1]
This, of course, is the amoral choice of neo-liberalism (and, to some extent, secularism, as practiced in Western countries today, to say nothing of many of my beloved fellow atheists) which only helps power in this matter. It should go without saying that any such self-serving (and thus power-serving) “rationalism” will not survive anything but the calmest waters of history.
And so I go back to that “something” in the air (or that zeitgeist); a restriction of the lungs, really, and I know that something is coming. The coming constriction of resources [2], as well as the available ideologies (I'm speaking of that neoliberalism here, as well as whatever the right wing is peddling) will certainly heat up the air.
What to do then? What answers do I have? That, dear reader, is something I will provide and soon. Thing is, the worshipping of power (in whichever form) does need to be dismantled, for it only blinds us to the true issues (and bends us towards tribalism). We should note at some point in the past, during the reigns of monarchies, those kings in power certainly had their "legitimate" reasons for having power. And even if we are to apply some level of meritocratic reasoning, they had—at some point in their past, speaking of their families, their ancestors—earned those positions. This didn’t make their positions any less unfair and in the end, unstable—morally and thus physically speaking. We should be aware of this as meritocracy is crammed down our throats (I hear the cries against the violence of those dispossessed). It has nothing to do with deserving. For that allows power to simply be, unchecked. And power is not meant just to be, it’s meant to be there for the betterment of all, and to check iniquities, lest it lose a reason for being. [3]
[1]But to those without a choice, to those forced towards the latter, the world is a cruel place.
[2] If the scientists are to be believed; let me also say that I don’t speak of only the mineral kind of minerals.
[3] Note that this argument is switched from deserving, to this is the best for all of us, as is needed to win said argument. Don’t fall for this goal post switching.
[Well, I wrote this a few days before the riots in Baltimore broke out. But I suppose now is better than never, being that many reactions to the violence—not state sanctioned—seem to be ignorant at best. For now my thoughts go out to the people of Baltimore]
Update: To be sure, all those calling for non-violence in Baltimore must be honest about what non-violence has so far achieved. Please be honest. Also, here's a better article than anything I could write (Coates at Atlantic).And while we're on topic of riots, let's remind ourselves about how much has changed: Here's an interview by James Baldwin on the matter. Brilliant as always. And Notes of a Native Son, which is nothing short of a classic. Enjoy, people, and to anyone calling for non-violence or saying something else so shortsighted. Read more. Thank you.
Enjoyed the writing? Please share it via email, facebook, twitter, or one of the buttons below (or through some other method you prefer). Thank you! As always, here's the tip jar. Throw some change in there and help cover the costs!
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April 16, 2015
Tom Bensley; The Time I was Haunted by the Internet
The Time I Was Haunted by the Internet Browsing the message boards on IMDB.com has been a longstanding addiction of mine. The people who post there are mostly a bunch of wannabe critics denouncing popular movies and trying to start a bit of online fisticuffs, but occasionally a topic will inspire people to tell stories. Posters write searing, honest accounts of childhood abuse or open up about their experiences in failed relationships. When I was haunted by the internet, it was 2007 and I was reading through a particular topic on the board for Paranormal Activity. The story that “haunted” me was about the poster’s uncle, who told the story to him. Let’s call the poster’s uncle “Bill”. Bill, a journalist, was making a long journey upstate for a job. Along the drive, he stopped off at a motel to stay the night. When he checked in, the receptionist felt compelled to give him a little history about the room next to his. Rarely used anymore, the room was once used by a woman who had checked in and killed herself during the night. Bill went upstairs to his room and didn’t think much more of it. At some point, late in the night, he awoke hearing a soft thumping against his wall and the faint sound of a woman crying, coming from the room of the supposed suicide. He tried to ignore it and go back to sleep but it wouldn’t stop. He got out of bed to see if everything was okay. Standing in the dark hallway, Bill timidly knocked on the door a few times. Several minutes passed and there was no answer, except for the sobbing and that soft, rhythmic thumping. Out of sleep deprivation, desperate to get a good night’s sleep, he peered through the keyhole in the door. What he saw—aside from hotel room furnishings nearly identical to his own—was a woman in the far corner of the room. She had her back turned and was leaning against the wall. The woman was very pale, wore a white dress and had long, black hair draped down to her waist. He couldn’t make out what she was doing and, after a few more timid knocks, gave up and slept restlessly. In the morning Bill was ready to check out and get back on the road. The noise next door had stopped and so, as he passed the room on his way down to the lobby, he decided to peek into the room again. This time, all he could see was the colour red, completely blocking any visibility of the room. That makes sense, Bill figured. I must’ve been dreaming last night; the hotel has probably always had something over the keyhole to keep people from peering in. Feeling considerably better, he shared with the receptionist his dream and what he’d seen just now. She looked shocked when he was finished, and was speechless for a moment. Composing herself, she told him the woman who committed suicide was shockingly pale, almost totally white. “But the strangest thing,” she said, “Was her eyes. They were all red.” The poster finished by saying his uncle Bill had been disturbed by the stop-over. He suffered anxiety attacks and had trouble sleeping for years afterwards. Fast forward 7 years to 2014 and I’m watching a Youtube video called Top 10 Scariest Creepypastas. Creepypastas are short horror stories heavy on the non-specifics. They usually star “a man” or “a family” in “a neighbourhood”. Some of them are sufficiently eerie and some have gone on to become world-wide phenomenas—the Slenderman was first made famous as a Creepypasta—but mostly their effectiveness depends on the teller, like any good campfire story. If it’s told right, whether it’s true or not ceases to matter. I had no idea what a “Creepypasta” was at the time, but I’d really taken to the Youtube channel Watchmojo.com. Number 5 in the Top 10 was called “The Keyhole” and happened to be almost exactly the same as what I’d read 7 years ago. I hadn’t thought about that post for years (who regularly thinks about what message boards they visit, let alone a single post on one?) but it must have affected me at the time, because the story came back to me instantly. Immediately I figured the story I’d seen on IMDB was a reappropriation of the Creepypasta story, but a couple of things didn’t add up. For one, the original story called “The Keyhole” was published 2 years after I’d first read the account on IMDB. And the details were different. Somehow the 2007 account being personalised was more effective, especially when he included his uncle’s mental state after the episode was over. The fact that it was 2 years before the Creepypasta made me wonder what exactly it was I’d seen on that messageboard. Had the poster made it all up and someone had seen it there and turned it into a Creepypasta 2 years later? Had his uncle really told him the story and it had stuck around on the internet for this long, eventually appearing in a popular Top 10 video and now known by at least more than 6 million people? The internet reflects a folklorian nature of storytelling. Famous stories appear as if they grew organically—under no single person’s control—from the text/pictures/videos on the net, like folktales emerging from the chatter in a town square. The ancient Arabian text 1001 nights is believed to be compiled from stories told in the market places of the towns, first by travelling orators telling stories in exchange for money, which then spread by word of mouth, eventually written down, published, translated, compiled, re-written, re-published, re-translated etc., until the text’s source becomes another story in itself, ancient enough to seem fictional. I think the internet has the same potential. It’s this cornucopia of voices and styles, and with increasing interconnectivity between users, these stories travel worldwide instantaneously, always being changed and re-appropriated. In the same way a person can find little gems of insight by listening to conversations on public transport, the same kind of humble attention to message boards, blogs, social media or anywhere stories are being shared, can offer inspiration to writers if they’re paying attention—if they’re listening and lurking.
Tom Bensley @TomAliceBensley
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Tom Bensley @TomAliceBensley
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April 13, 2015
Artifical Intelligence as Foreign Policy
As all my readers know by now, my latest book—still in the stages of being chipped at, edited, if you will—deals with several aspects of rebellion, with its latter stages dealing with advanced artificial intelligence (AI). Now, unlike some other books, I don't deal with AI that's self aware or have consciousness, as this is too hard to define for humans, to say nothing of machines. Instead, I try to think of a slow creep of AI, automated, into the decision making arenas of the world, and from there the AI simply manipulates the material world in a malevolent way.
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Enjoyed the writing? Please share it via email, facebook, twitter, or one of the buttons below (or through some other method you prefer). Thank you! As always, here's the tip jar. Throw some change in there.
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March 16, 2015
Art as Life
Ah, spring, where the sunsets emit a warmth and subtly that hints at the better weather to come. As I stare at the sepia-toned dusk, rain falling instead of crystals, I think on an event that happened a long time ago, in the brittle air of winter. It was an odd event, and one I would rather forget, but light has a way of evoking certain moods, doesn't it?
I must admit that I hadn't talked in such riddles since college, and I was glad to find a partner in crime—even though the mutual hate continued. She was an artist trying to make it and wasn't quite doing so. And I was a writer who wasn't making it (though I was and am naive enough to think that making it isn't the main point of the whole endevour). So she invited me to where she lived, a building where she was squatting. It seemed appropriate.
On the way there, a long walk punctuated with slaps from a cruel wind and garbage on the streets, she divulged more of her situation. She was at a sort of crossroads. She had found that the art world was not what she'd expected, and she now created works (forgeries) for a famous gallery. Meanwhile what originals she created gained no traction.
Her building was surprisingly hollowed out for a midtown structure, and when we climbed the stairs to her place, it was easy to see that the rats owned the place, their feces forcing me to hold my breath. By some grace, her apartment had heating, and she flipped on a few lights while taking me immediately to her studio room(s). I must admit a tinge of jealousy at the size of the place, even though it smelled like a civil war battlefield.
She walked me through a few pieces from her youth, when in middle school her talent was plain for all to see. The realism in some of the paintings was nothing short of amazing, the people were all in motion, all full of life. Yet even looking at these pained her. I went on and saw that she'd moved on to more abstract works as she grew older. Finally, we came to the room she wanted to show me all along.
Here, there were paintings after paintings of what I took to be edge and nodes. All black circles connected by lines. All different. At first I scoffed, but the more I stared, the more I was taken in by these well thought out series of circles and lines. After a few minutes of being mesmerized, I sensed that something in the air had shifted. I dared not look in her direction (a small part of me felt that this feeling was what caused men in more primitive times to accuse women of being witches, for I could sense something of a force invading me). I asked what they were meant to represent.
"Different things," she said, annoyed. Some were the grids of certain cities that she enjoyed strolling through, at one time or another. Others were representations of cities of her imagination that she presumed would be great to walk through, if only their streets were laid out just so. Others yet where stories about city planners gone mad; they tore down old sections and created new highways over them. Or some indicated a history of a city with a specific grid system that eventually broke down by way of cars or another city planner who simply wanted to make their presence be known with white elephant projects. Some of these were true stories, some were in her mind.
I especially liked some of the grids which were representations of specific neighborhoods she'd loved for how they pushed people together, forced humanity to confront one another and from that a certain beauty grew/was created; thus one canvass was the specific grid system of a combination of all these neighborhoods, for she was sure that such a design would create a utopia of meetings for the likes of her and other artists. Yet another one represented a design of her own which would best bring people together, and inspire artists.
In the corner, on pallets, sat a cat and canvasses of nodes and edges, hanging from the ceiling representing human connections in life. One was a representation, 2D-wise, mind you, of a section of reddit; how the subreddits interacted, or how the users interacted. Moving the cat revealed another canvas with what she'd esteemed to be the most natural breakdown of any group of human beings (meaning how they were connected and so forth). Yet another was meant to be millions of people in Dar es Salaam. When I say a million nodes were represented, I mean it; though I certainly didn't count them. She used a tiny brush for many of these paintings. This required from her a harness for her hand and arm, so that no tremor would result in a mistake.
Behind a large concrete barrier (what was that doing there?) were paintings of hierarchical systems that showed a certain paucity of connections, as well as more well-connected ones representing democracies. At times it was like staring at the night sky through on a Montana mountain, scree sliding downhill.
I chased the cat when it scratched some paintings which were piled in a heap next to the litter box. These were without edges; she'd attempted to use either different shapes or colors or position on the canvas as an attempt to represent these subsections of the world. I thought they were worth saving, but she thought otherwise.
My head spinning, she handed me a glass and a bottle of vodka. We took turns drinking out of it as we made it to a room with a draft and a mattress on the the floor. I took this for her bedroom since it smelled more like perfume—the subtle flowery kind—than any other part of the house. Leaning against each other on either side of the mattress, making a sort of hallway, stood paintings, stretched out and mounted on frames. The cat perched itself on the mattress, stared at me, then started to lick itself.
One set of paintings was supposed to be about "her pure expression" (she said, while taking a swig of vodka), and on these were nodes with edges pointed in certain directions, usually the same angle (or general quadrant or pi/2 rad). Except there would be a curved line, here or there, that was the exception. I asked why and she smiled and said it was an algorithm, or rather a Turing machine joke. I looked harder, feeling dumb. She said if one followed the initial node through all its possible turns, the joke, or the statement about life, would be easy to see. Some, she claimed, said more than any novel could. I sensed that she didn't like my questions, and was attacking my own vocation. So I praised her, and she smiled, as if she'd always expected it.
While she settled on the mattress, stroking her cat, I rummaged through the paintings and found another set of canvasses in a pile on the floor which were designed to represent war—with red nodes being those slaughtered. The one on France during WWI was especially heartbreaking. The set on the Iraq civil war was also moving (for an Iraq War vet such as myself) as she had five canvasses for a six year breakdown. Each with millions of nodes on it. Each with a million stories. I could see a few nodes—red white and blue for us occupiers—and I noticed what could only have been my node. She must have been a hacker, for how could she have known about those top-secret connections? I held my tongue, wondering if I were truly in the presence of a modern day witch. I glanced at her, and could see her following me with her eyes, studying my every move while pretending to pay attention to her cat.
We moved on to another room, this one a decrepit bathroom with bold rats staring in from holes in the walls. On the floor, in the middle of the room, next to the broken tub, was a computer with several screens. Between canvasses she mentioned it and how she used data, manipulated it to create the mold for what she wanted to paint. That even with a fast computer, few chips could handle placing so many nodes and that perhaps she would one day get a node edge system to represent the history of the world. I remained silent. In my gut the idea that she was nuts tickled me. It grew and became a full theory. Then she started to ramble about the need to paint, that she only painted when calm, or under duress, or when bill collectors were pounding on her door, or when she had just made love, or when a date night did not work out. I think I understood. I let go of my doubts.
I was possessed with her artist's vision, and even thought of giving myself up to her. But when I asked why she didn't become a statistician, as she certainly had the aptitude for it, all the air in the room was sucked out by her stare. I left before I was brought to my knees for an execution that surely awaited me. And that was the last I ever saw of her. I remember walking away from the building and watching as a sepia light leaked out from the top floor's window, her silhouette appearing, a red ember for a cigarette, and she waved goodbye.
Update 23Mar 2015:
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I must admit that I hadn't talked in such riddles since college, and I was glad to find a partner in crime—even though the mutual hate continued. She was an artist trying to make it and wasn't quite doing so. And I was a writer who wasn't making it (though I was and am naive enough to think that making it isn't the main point of the whole endevour). So she invited me to where she lived, a building where she was squatting. It seemed appropriate.
On the way there, a long walk punctuated with slaps from a cruel wind and garbage on the streets, she divulged more of her situation. She was at a sort of crossroads. She had found that the art world was not what she'd expected, and she now created works (forgeries) for a famous gallery. Meanwhile what originals she created gained no traction.
Her building was surprisingly hollowed out for a midtown structure, and when we climbed the stairs to her place, it was easy to see that the rats owned the place, their feces forcing me to hold my breath. By some grace, her apartment had heating, and she flipped on a few lights while taking me immediately to her studio room(s). I must admit a tinge of jealousy at the size of the place, even though it smelled like a civil war battlefield.
She walked me through a few pieces from her youth, when in middle school her talent was plain for all to see. The realism in some of the paintings was nothing short of amazing, the people were all in motion, all full of life. Yet even looking at these pained her. I went on and saw that she'd moved on to more abstract works as she grew older. Finally, we came to the room she wanted to show me all along.
Here, there were paintings after paintings of what I took to be edge and nodes. All black circles connected by lines. All different. At first I scoffed, but the more I stared, the more I was taken in by these well thought out series of circles and lines. After a few minutes of being mesmerized, I sensed that something in the air had shifted. I dared not look in her direction (a small part of me felt that this feeling was what caused men in more primitive times to accuse women of being witches, for I could sense something of a force invading me). I asked what they were meant to represent.
"Different things," she said, annoyed. Some were the grids of certain cities that she enjoyed strolling through, at one time or another. Others were representations of cities of her imagination that she presumed would be great to walk through, if only their streets were laid out just so. Others yet where stories about city planners gone mad; they tore down old sections and created new highways over them. Or some indicated a history of a city with a specific grid system that eventually broke down by way of cars or another city planner who simply wanted to make their presence be known with white elephant projects. Some of these were true stories, some were in her mind.
I especially liked some of the grids which were representations of specific neighborhoods she'd loved for how they pushed people together, forced humanity to confront one another and from that a certain beauty grew/was created; thus one canvass was the specific grid system of a combination of all these neighborhoods, for she was sure that such a design would create a utopia of meetings for the likes of her and other artists. Yet another one represented a design of her own which would best bring people together, and inspire artists.
In the corner, on pallets, sat a cat and canvasses of nodes and edges, hanging from the ceiling representing human connections in life. One was a representation, 2D-wise, mind you, of a section of reddit; how the subreddits interacted, or how the users interacted. Moving the cat revealed another canvas with what she'd esteemed to be the most natural breakdown of any group of human beings (meaning how they were connected and so forth). Yet another was meant to be millions of people in Dar es Salaam. When I say a million nodes were represented, I mean it; though I certainly didn't count them. She used a tiny brush for many of these paintings. This required from her a harness for her hand and arm, so that no tremor would result in a mistake.
Behind a large concrete barrier (what was that doing there?) were paintings of hierarchical systems that showed a certain paucity of connections, as well as more well-connected ones representing democracies. At times it was like staring at the night sky through on a Montana mountain, scree sliding downhill.
I chased the cat when it scratched some paintings which were piled in a heap next to the litter box. These were without edges; she'd attempted to use either different shapes or colors or position on the canvas as an attempt to represent these subsections of the world. I thought they were worth saving, but she thought otherwise.
My head spinning, she handed me a glass and a bottle of vodka. We took turns drinking out of it as we made it to a room with a draft and a mattress on the the floor. I took this for her bedroom since it smelled more like perfume—the subtle flowery kind—than any other part of the house. Leaning against each other on either side of the mattress, making a sort of hallway, stood paintings, stretched out and mounted on frames. The cat perched itself on the mattress, stared at me, then started to lick itself.
One set of paintings was supposed to be about "her pure expression" (she said, while taking a swig of vodka), and on these were nodes with edges pointed in certain directions, usually the same angle (or general quadrant or pi/2 rad). Except there would be a curved line, here or there, that was the exception. I asked why and she smiled and said it was an algorithm, or rather a Turing machine joke. I looked harder, feeling dumb. She said if one followed the initial node through all its possible turns, the joke, or the statement about life, would be easy to see. Some, she claimed, said more than any novel could. I sensed that she didn't like my questions, and was attacking my own vocation. So I praised her, and she smiled, as if she'd always expected it.
While she settled on the mattress, stroking her cat, I rummaged through the paintings and found another set of canvasses in a pile on the floor which were designed to represent war—with red nodes being those slaughtered. The one on France during WWI was especially heartbreaking. The set on the Iraq civil war was also moving (for an Iraq War vet such as myself) as she had five canvasses for a six year breakdown. Each with millions of nodes on it. Each with a million stories. I could see a few nodes—red white and blue for us occupiers—and I noticed what could only have been my node. She must have been a hacker, for how could she have known about those top-secret connections? I held my tongue, wondering if I were truly in the presence of a modern day witch. I glanced at her, and could see her following me with her eyes, studying my every move while pretending to pay attention to her cat.
We moved on to another room, this one a decrepit bathroom with bold rats staring in from holes in the walls. On the floor, in the middle of the room, next to the broken tub, was a computer with several screens. Between canvasses she mentioned it and how she used data, manipulated it to create the mold for what she wanted to paint. That even with a fast computer, few chips could handle placing so many nodes and that perhaps she would one day get a node edge system to represent the history of the world. I remained silent. In my gut the idea that she was nuts tickled me. It grew and became a full theory. Then she started to ramble about the need to paint, that she only painted when calm, or under duress, or when bill collectors were pounding on her door, or when she had just made love, or when a date night did not work out. I think I understood. I let go of my doubts.
I was possessed with her artist's vision, and even thought of giving myself up to her. But when I asked why she didn't become a statistician, as she certainly had the aptitude for it, all the air in the room was sucked out by her stare. I left before I was brought to my knees for an execution that surely awaited me. And that was the last I ever saw of her. I remember walking away from the building and watching as a sepia light leaked out from the top floor's window, her silhouette appearing, a red ember for a cigarette, and she waved goodbye.
Update 23Mar 2015:
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An amazing Art show
Ah, spring, where the sunsets have a certain warmth and subtly to them that hints at the better weather to come. As I stare at the sepia-toned dusk, rain falling instead of crystals, I think on an event that happened a long time ago, in the brittle air of winter. It was an odd event, and one I would rather forget, but light has a way of evoking certain moods, doesn't it?
I must admit that I hadn't talked in such riddles since college, and I was glad to find a partner in crime, even though the mutual hate continued. She was an artist trying to make it and wasn't quite doing so. And I was a writer who wasn't quite making it (though I was and am naive enough to think that making it isn't the main point of the whole endevour). So she invited me to where she lived. Apparently there a building where she was squatting. It seemed appropriate, and I felt inclined to see what she created.
On the way there, a long walk punctuated with slaps from a cruel wind, she divulged her situation even more. She was at a sort of crossroads. She had found that the art world was not what she expected, and she now created works (forgeries) for a famous gallery. Meanwhile what originals she created gained no traction.
Her building was surprisingly hollowed out for a midtown structure, and when we climbed the stairs to her place, it was easy to see that the rats owned the place, their feces forcing me to hold my breath. By some grace, her apartment had heating, and she switched on a few lights taking me immediately to her studio rooms. I must admit a tinge of jealousy at the size of the place, even though it smelled like a Civil war battlefield.
She walked me through a few pieces from her youth, when in middle school her talent was plain for all to see. The realism in some of the paintings was nothing short of amazing, the people were all in motion, all full of life. Yet I could see that even looking at these pained her. I went on and saw that she had moved on to more abstract works as she grew older. Finally, we came to the room she wanted to show me all along.
Here, there were paintings after paintings of what I took to be edge and nodes. All black circles connected by lines. All different. At first I tried hard not to scoff, but the more I stared, the more I was taken in by these well thought out series of circles and lines. After a few seconds of being mesmerized, I sensed that something in the air had shifted, and I dared not to look in her direction (a small part of me felt that this feeling is what caused men in more primitive times to accuse women of being witches, for I could sense something invading me). I asked what they were meant to represent.
"Different things," she said, annoyed. Some were the grids of certain cities that she enjoyed strolling through, at one time or another. Others were representations of cities of her imagination that she presumed would be great to walk through, if only they had this very specific grid. Others yet where stories about city planners gone mad. Or a history of a city with a specific grid system that eventually broke down by way of cars or another city planner who simply wanted to make their presence be known. Some of these were true stories, some were in her mind.
Some of the grids were representations of specific neighborhoods she had loved for how they pushed people together, forced humanity to confront one another and from that a certain beauty grew; thus one canvass was the specific grid system of a combination of all these neighborhoods, for she was sure that such a design would create a utopia of meetings for the likes of her and people with a true humanity at heart. Yet another one represented a design of her own which would best bring people together, and inspire artists.
One set of nodes and edges, hanging from the ceiling represented human connections in life. One was a representation, 2D wise, mind you, of a section of reddit (how the subreddits interacted, or how the users interacted). Yet another canvas had what she had esteemed to be the most natural breakdown of any group of human beings. Yet another was meant to be millions of people in a section of the Republic of Tanzania.
Some were hierarchical systems that showed a certain paucity of connections, while others, more well-connected—represented democracies. When I say a million nodes were represented, I mean it, though I certainly didn't count them. At times it was like staring at the sky at night. I was simply lost in the beauty. She used a very small pen for many of these paintings that represented millions of people. This required from her a very specific harness for her hand and arm, so that no tremor would result in a mistake. In addition some paintings, thrown aside for having failed some vision of hers, were without edges, where she had attempted to use either different shapes or colors or position on the canvas as an attempt to represent these subsections of the world.
One set of paintings was supposed to be about her pure expression, and in it were nodes with edges pointed in certain directions, usually the same angle (or quadrant). Except there would be a curved line here or there that were the exceptions. I asked why and she smiled and said it was an algorithm, or rather a Turing machine joke. I looked harder. She said if one followed the initial node through all it's possible turns, the joke, or the statement about life, would be easy to see. Some, she claimed, said more than any novel could. I sensed that she didn't like my questions, and was attacking my own vocation. So I praised her, and she smiled, as if she always expected it.
I found another set of canvasses in a pile on the floor which were designed to represent war—with red nodes being those slaughtered. The one on France during WWI was especially heartbreaking. The set on the Iraq civil war was also moving (for an Iraq War vet such as myself) as she had five canvasses for a six year breakdown. Each with millions of nodes on it. Each with a million stories. I could see a few nodes—red white and blue for the occupiers—and I noticed what could only have been my only node. She must have been a hacker, for how could she have known about those top-secret connections? I held my tongue, wondering if I were truly in the presence of a witch.
In the middle of the room was a computer with several screens. Between canvasses she mentioned it and how she used data, manipulated it to create the mold for what she wanted to paint. That even with a fast computer, few could handle placing so many nodes and that perhaps she would one day get a node edge system to represent the history of the world. I remained silent. She started to ramble about the need to paint, that she only painted when calm, or under duress, or when bill collectors were pounding on her door, or when she had just made love, or when a date night did not work out. I think I understood.
I was possessed with this artists vision, and even thought of giving myself up to her. But when I asked why she didn't become a statistician, as she certainly had the aptitude for it. All the air in the room was sucked out by her stare. I left before I was brought to my knees for an execution that surely awaited. And that was the last I ever saw of her. I remember walking away from the building and watching as a sepia light leaked out from the top floor, a maniacal cackle pushing my walk into a trot.
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htmltextmobile
I must admit that I hadn't talked in such riddles since college, and I was glad to find a partner in crime, even though the mutual hate continued. She was an artist trying to make it and wasn't quite doing so. And I was a writer who wasn't quite making it (though I was and am naive enough to think that making it isn't the main point of the whole endevour). So she invited me to where she lived. Apparently there a building where she was squatting. It seemed appropriate, and I felt inclined to see what she created.
On the way there, a long walk punctuated with slaps from a cruel wind, she divulged her situation even more. She was at a sort of crossroads. She had found that the art world was not what she expected, and she now created works (forgeries) for a famous gallery. Meanwhile what originals she created gained no traction.
Her building was surprisingly hollowed out for a midtown structure, and when we climbed the stairs to her place, it was easy to see that the rats owned the place, their feces forcing me to hold my breath. By some grace, her apartment had heating, and she switched on a few lights taking me immediately to her studio rooms. I must admit a tinge of jealousy at the size of the place, even though it smelled like a Civil war battlefield.
She walked me through a few pieces from her youth, when in middle school her talent was plain for all to see. The realism in some of the paintings was nothing short of amazing, the people were all in motion, all full of life. Yet I could see that even looking at these pained her. I went on and saw that she had moved on to more abstract works as she grew older. Finally, we came to the room she wanted to show me all along.
Here, there were paintings after paintings of what I took to be edge and nodes. All black circles connected by lines. All different. At first I tried hard not to scoff, but the more I stared, the more I was taken in by these well thought out series of circles and lines. After a few seconds of being mesmerized, I sensed that something in the air had shifted, and I dared not to look in her direction (a small part of me felt that this feeling is what caused men in more primitive times to accuse women of being witches, for I could sense something invading me). I asked what they were meant to represent.
"Different things," she said, annoyed. Some were the grids of certain cities that she enjoyed strolling through, at one time or another. Others were representations of cities of her imagination that she presumed would be great to walk through, if only they had this very specific grid. Others yet where stories about city planners gone mad. Or a history of a city with a specific grid system that eventually broke down by way of cars or another city planner who simply wanted to make their presence be known. Some of these were true stories, some were in her mind.
Some of the grids were representations of specific neighborhoods she had loved for how they pushed people together, forced humanity to confront one another and from that a certain beauty grew; thus one canvass was the specific grid system of a combination of all these neighborhoods, for she was sure that such a design would create a utopia of meetings for the likes of her and people with a true humanity at heart. Yet another one represented a design of her own which would best bring people together, and inspire artists.
One set of nodes and edges, hanging from the ceiling represented human connections in life. One was a representation, 2D wise, mind you, of a section of reddit (how the subreddits interacted, or how the users interacted). Yet another canvas had what she had esteemed to be the most natural breakdown of any group of human beings. Yet another was meant to be millions of people in a section of the Republic of Tanzania.
Some were hierarchical systems that showed a certain paucity of connections, while others, more well-connected—represented democracies. When I say a million nodes were represented, I mean it, though I certainly didn't count them. At times it was like staring at the sky at night. I was simply lost in the beauty. She used a very small pen for many of these paintings that represented millions of people. This required from her a very specific harness for her hand and arm, so that no tremor would result in a mistake. In addition some paintings, thrown aside for having failed some vision of hers, were without edges, where she had attempted to use either different shapes or colors or position on the canvas as an attempt to represent these subsections of the world.
One set of paintings was supposed to be about her pure expression, and in it were nodes with edges pointed in certain directions, usually the same angle (or quadrant). Except there would be a curved line here or there that were the exceptions. I asked why and she smiled and said it was an algorithm, or rather a Turing machine joke. I looked harder. She said if one followed the initial node through all it's possible turns, the joke, or the statement about life, would be easy to see. Some, she claimed, said more than any novel could. I sensed that she didn't like my questions, and was attacking my own vocation. So I praised her, and she smiled, as if she always expected it.
I found another set of canvasses in a pile on the floor which were designed to represent war—with red nodes being those slaughtered. The one on France during WWI was especially heartbreaking. The set on the Iraq civil war was also moving (for an Iraq War vet such as myself) as she had five canvasses for a six year breakdown. Each with millions of nodes on it. Each with a million stories. I could see a few nodes—red white and blue for the occupiers—and I noticed what could only have been my only node. She must have been a hacker, for how could she have known about those top-secret connections? I held my tongue, wondering if I were truly in the presence of a witch.
In the middle of the room was a computer with several screens. Between canvasses she mentioned it and how she used data, manipulated it to create the mold for what she wanted to paint. That even with a fast computer, few could handle placing so many nodes and that perhaps she would one day get a node edge system to represent the history of the world. I remained silent. She started to ramble about the need to paint, that she only painted when calm, or under duress, or when bill collectors were pounding on her door, or when she had just made love, or when a date night did not work out. I think I understood.
I was possessed with this artists vision, and even thought of giving myself up to her. But when I asked why she didn't become a statistician, as she certainly had the aptitude for it. All the air in the room was sucked out by her stare. I left before I was brought to my knees for an execution that surely awaited. And that was the last I ever saw of her. I remember walking away from the building and watching as a sepia light leaked out from the top floor, a maniacal cackle pushing my walk into a trot.
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MFA programs. And what they create. (non-fiction)
So the internet is abuzz with the latest literary controversy. As per the controversy, the people attacking it are hardly adding to the debate. Rather it's about personal screes (and oh aren't those addicting?) and people staking their tribal flags. What I've mainly seen—besides the reactions from those directly affected—are people who think it horrendous that he's teaching his MFA students in such a crass manner, and people who think that he's spot on. These views either hold contempt for those who take the MFA route or reject most of the doubt thrown at the students taking the MFA route.
Nonetheless, this nagging doubt of mine doesn't align me with the author of the controversial article. I merely see ways to improve the workshops in which I partook. In this sense, anonymity would be one possible cure. Have pieces turned in and don't tell anyone, maybe not even the teacher, who wrote it. That way one can be assured of a less prejudiced critique. There might be more aspects of the workshop that could be examined, but I wonder what those are (I have not given this much thought, mind you).
As for the latter account that seems to think that any remark about one's students is misplaced, I share some of those sentiments, but sense that some aspect of the MFA program needs to be examined. Nevertheless, if one is to take the author to task, why not ask him to name the real deals, and let's compare those to the hacks after a few years, or a few decades.
And in the end, I sense that this is the point of the article: that we do need to take another look at what our MFA programs are creating. This isn't hard to answer and we will indeed see what shall come out of these programs in the upcoming decades (we will have plenty of time to see which books make it and which ones don't; nevermind the sometimes insular worlds they seem to create).
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Nonetheless, this nagging doubt of mine doesn't align me with the author of the controversial article. I merely see ways to improve the workshops in which I partook. In this sense, anonymity would be one possible cure. Have pieces turned in and don't tell anyone, maybe not even the teacher, who wrote it. That way one can be assured of a less prejudiced critique. There might be more aspects of the workshop that could be examined, but I wonder what those are (I have not given this much thought, mind you).
As for the latter account that seems to think that any remark about one's students is misplaced, I share some of those sentiments, but sense that some aspect of the MFA program needs to be examined. Nevertheless, if one is to take the author to task, why not ask him to name the real deals, and let's compare those to the hacks after a few years, or a few decades.
And in the end, I sense that this is the point of the article: that we do need to take another look at what our MFA programs are creating. This isn't hard to answer and we will indeed see what shall come out of these programs in the upcoming decades (we will have plenty of time to see which books make it and which ones don't; nevermind the sometimes insular worlds they seem to create).
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MFA programs. And what they create.
So the internet is abuzz with the latest literary controversy. As per the controversy, the people attacking it are hardly adding to the debate. Rather it's about personal screes (and oh aren't those addicting?) and people staking their tribal flags. What I've mainly seen—besides the reactions from those directly affected—are people who think it horrendous that he's teaching his MFA students in such a crass manner, and people who think that he's spot on. These views either hold contempt for those who take the MFA route or reject most of the doubt thrown at the students taking the MFA route.
Nonetheless, this nagging doubt of mine doesn't align me with the author of the controversial article. I merely see ways to improve the workshops in which I partook. In this sense, anonymity would be one possible cure. Have pieces turned in and don't tell anyone, maybe not even the teacher, who wrote it. That way one can be assured of a less prejudiced critique. There might be more aspects of the workshop that could be examined, but I wonder what those are (I have not given this much thought, mind you).
As for the latter account that seems to think that any remark about one's students is misplaced, I share some of those sentiments, but sense that some aspect of the MFA program needs to be examined. Nevertheless, if one is to take the author to task, why not ask him to name the real deals, and let's compare those to the hacks after a few years, or a few decades.
And in the end, I sense that this is the point of the article: that we do need to take another look at what our MFA programs are creating. This isn't hard to answer and we will indeed see what shall come out of these programs in the upcoming decades (we will have plenty of time to see which books make it and which ones don't; nevermind the sometimes insular worlds they seem to create).
Enjoyed the writing? Here's a tip jar! Then Subscribe to my mailing list* indicates requiredEmail Address * First Name Last Name Email Format
htmltextmobile
Nonetheless, this nagging doubt of mine doesn't align me with the author of the controversial article. I merely see ways to improve the workshops in which I partook. In this sense, anonymity would be one possible cure. Have pieces turned in and don't tell anyone, maybe not even the teacher, who wrote it. That way one can be assured of a less prejudiced critique. There might be more aspects of the workshop that could be examined, but I wonder what those are (I have not given this much thought, mind you).
As for the latter account that seems to think that any remark about one's students is misplaced, I share some of those sentiments, but sense that some aspect of the MFA program needs to be examined. Nevertheless, if one is to take the author to task, why not ask him to name the real deals, and let's compare those to the hacks after a few years, or a few decades.
And in the end, I sense that this is the point of the article: that we do need to take another look at what our MFA programs are creating. This isn't hard to answer and we will indeed see what shall come out of these programs in the upcoming decades (we will have plenty of time to see which books make it and which ones don't; nevermind the sometimes insular worlds they seem to create).
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March 14, 2015
(non-fiction) Internet Narratives (part 3); 3 ways to limit Comment decay
Not really part 3 but rather part four or five or more. I have a guest post by English and more versions of what is possible, to include a video game, the creation of fractal never-ending stories (check out my own ongoing project to create something infinite) and the possible death of life for writers like myself: the creation of programs that will write more (quality and quantity-wise) than us.
I've talked about the nature of narratives today in a reply to what Franzen was saying about the paucity of potential in the internet. Indeed, for anyone with a grain of imagination, there is much hope in what one can achieve with the internet (or the possibility of the connections within the internet's structures, after all). I will say that given what I've seen, there is very little good coming out of the narratives (contrary to what I said before... and again, from what I've seen). This is not to say that the potential isn't there, simply that it hasn't been realized yet. Also, the internet certainly provides much in terms of valuable information (though much of it, like scientific papers, is behind paywalls), but I'll focus on narratives (in this case comments). I mentioned comments before and said that it has the potential to create much that's beautiful. Much of what we find entertaining in a comments section (and that makes them so addictive) is the natural flow of conversation between people. That comments are popular most everywhere in the world make me want to think that this is evidence of the inherent lean towards democracy in all people's souls (in this one facet, of course). But there is still something to be said for watching a train wreck and actually watching something that is not only narrative but narrative that enriches our lives.
What can one say? There is yet an example that I've seen where someone either creates a great narrative through comments (that is, harvesting the best aspects of comments and laying them out for us to read in a way that would define them as deep or enriching), or a design in comments that does allows it to happen. It would seem that all comment sections have the potential to be good, but as soon as they are good, they become popular, and that's where they fail.
Many people seem to see this weakness, and so far none of the solutions have worked (that I've seen). The comment sections that tend to work are those with a bunch of very strong and right-minded (and always iron-fisted) moderators, strong users (in small numbers, though not too small) and without much longevity. Anonymity or having everyone post as themselves doesn't seem to help matters either way. Because as soon as word gets out that there is a comment section worth a damn, it will be flooded and soon the moderators are overwhelmed or the user base has changed so much that nothing good will come out of it but name calling etc. (there are many places that I love that have gone south recently, that is certainly one of the saddest things I've seen).
The more divisive a subject, the more likely this will happen. Given what we know about the strength of comments in influencing people's views, there is certainly the artificial shilling being paid for by those in power (on one side or another) as well as the inherent tribalism in those subjects and those most vested in them. As soon as a comment thread is not going one tribe's way or another's, they will flood the place and shout down any worthwhile discussion.
On reddit.com [1] the situation is the same: upvoting and downvoting has only a slight effect on matters. If a subreddit gets popular expect a huge downturn in quality (shills will come through etc) unless one has strong moderators (and even then, this only really works for subreddits with a specific topic like askhistorians). This is all enough to make one an enemy of democracy and a friend of autocracy (yet to look at places without comments, or with a limited conversation, like the nytimes, and one can see that this is not the solution as it seems to kill debate in any form).
Is there another way to get to improving comments? To making them more amiable to those deep narratives I mentioned (though I'm all for fictionalizing comments, mind you)? I would say that there are, and we merely have to think on them. First: having something like the restrictions that we place upon democracy is important. Moderators are needed. But since no site has the money to deal with the hordes that come through once popular, perhaps this can be done through laws enforced by algorithms (note that I'm diverging from the comments aspect and merely diving into how to get good comments).
1) Voting up and down comments. First, a good comment section works when there's a community. We can certainly allow that to happen by merely requiring a certain amount of time for user before they can comment, and if so, only with severe penalties. Like reddit one can accumulate points when the community agrees or disagrees with what they have to say. I'll add something else: that one needs to add a few things here: probation if you go below 0 (assuming one has gained that much "value" to vote) and to punish someone, or downvote, should cost one 4 points (and you gain one point if someone upvotes you, or for time spent contributing in some positive way to the site, to include time spent actively reading—one can think of many positive attributes needed in a community).
This would help people think twice about that which they hate and wish to downvote. One could have it so that given time spent could mean a certain person's vote means more. This would skew a site away from newer.fresher ideas, sadly. So perhaps one could judge how many upvotes they want to give a certain comment or post. This would, again, skew the site towards those who can gather the most votes through inane things like posting pictures of cats etc (not that this doesn't have its place, but it does matter if one wants deep conversations that matter). There could simply be a judgement call in this regard, or a segregation of votes gained in superfluous matters versus those in more serious topics. Of course, this isn't a cure to any site's ills.
2) Limit TribalismI would say another aspect that needs to be looked at and limited is tribalism (or hordes coming through to downvote that which they don't like, just look at any Israel-Palestine issue, or any others). This can be human nature as well as paid shills, but it exists. I would say another variable to be weighted is that of people coming through and voting one way to drown out new ideas. If people are known to interact, or to vote in pretty much the same way (in the same areas), then it can be said that if they vote on one thing (up or down) they cannot be allowed to have more influence than if two random people with not much in common vote up another point of view. Note that we can take time spent on the topic/site as another factor. This would help alleviate people just joining to push a certain point.
3) Limit troll accountsAbove I made the point that those who have tried to eliminate anonymity have not met with much success. Let's keep anonymity, but let's allow a limited amount (this would go against my attempts to see and create as many narratives as possible, I admit) of profiles to be created from a single IP address. Or perhaps ask for proof that there is someone behind the mask, but only charge a few cents to a credit card etc. This might help, though I'm not sure that it will matter as much as the opints above.
4) Another view: that of the wisdom of crowds.
Again, this plays into the democratic (as well as market) ideal that imagine many people, like myself, tend to default towards. We don't like seeing that fail. So when we see the mob we wonder why it is that we're not seeing the effects of the crowd helping us move towards the best answer (or discussion) to a question. Well, it would seem that group think comes into play (and distorts the positive effect of a crowd's wisdom) much more often and easier than we think.
Thus one needs to see the current set up of comments (with or without up/downvotes) as incorrect and we perhaps need a way to allow someone to interact with a certain article or topic without the group coming into play. They can put in their comments without seeing anything else, but then we risk cutting all conversation off (a huge part of why some read comments). Perhaps then what we need is a time where there are no comments, and only what people have to think about a certain article/topic and then a wave of comments (which can then be voted upon with the above specifications) followed by another wave at another time and so forth. Threads would then be allowed after a certain time (or perhaps follow a natural course in this time-wave manner). Or perhaps we could figure out an algorithm to get the best of all comments (not sure how this would work at all).
It seems that this would best create something from comments that would allow for the wisdom of crowds principle to prevail over other methods. It might end up looking completely different from what a comment thread today looks, but I dare say something better will come out of it.
Do you have any thoughts on the matter? Any better ways to set up something to minimize comment-decay?
[1] For example my most recent experience on reddit.com has been saddening to say the least. I've spent much of my time trying to curate some of the more nuanced articles or comments around. These usually get you nowhere. Especially if they go against whatever the accepted wisdom is. It would seem that there is a futility to deep talks or complex subjects (the reward here is either gaining a whole bunch of upvotes, or at least facilitating some level of a discussion). However, if one is to take the inane route (cat pics) or the path of least resistance, if we're going to deal with politics or geo politics, then the rewards will be multiplied many fold. Concerning the latter part, all one needs to do is to follow the zeitgeist and push the herd in the direction it's already running.
I recently posted an article about the heroics of some Iraqi against the barbarians de jour, ISIS, and was flooded with upvotes. 90% of all my upvotes, to be exact. That there might be paid government shills online goes without saying; however, that this would account for all of what I've observed doesn't seem as likely (not that I would be surprised to find this to be the truth, with the cloak of national security, our government can do whatever it likes and lie about it as well).
What does it say? It certainly says something about human nature, that need to push towards whatever way the winds are blowing, even when those winds are created by us. This is something separate from the internet, but the internet doesn't help matters. I wonder if the points I made above could help? There is limited information out there, and people tend to trust talking heads and politicians. I believe that we can still counter that, but we will need a lot of effort.
Enjoyed the writing? Here's a tip jar! Then Subscribe to my mailing list* indicates requiredEmail Address * First Name Last Name Email Format
htmltextmobile
I've talked about the nature of narratives today in a reply to what Franzen was saying about the paucity of potential in the internet. Indeed, for anyone with a grain of imagination, there is much hope in what one can achieve with the internet (or the possibility of the connections within the internet's structures, after all). I will say that given what I've seen, there is very little good coming out of the narratives (contrary to what I said before... and again, from what I've seen). This is not to say that the potential isn't there, simply that it hasn't been realized yet. Also, the internet certainly provides much in terms of valuable information (though much of it, like scientific papers, is behind paywalls), but I'll focus on narratives (in this case comments). I mentioned comments before and said that it has the potential to create much that's beautiful. Much of what we find entertaining in a comments section (and that makes them so addictive) is the natural flow of conversation between people. That comments are popular most everywhere in the world make me want to think that this is evidence of the inherent lean towards democracy in all people's souls (in this one facet, of course). But there is still something to be said for watching a train wreck and actually watching something that is not only narrative but narrative that enriches our lives.
What can one say? There is yet an example that I've seen where someone either creates a great narrative through comments (that is, harvesting the best aspects of comments and laying them out for us to read in a way that would define them as deep or enriching), or a design in comments that does allows it to happen. It would seem that all comment sections have the potential to be good, but as soon as they are good, they become popular, and that's where they fail.
Many people seem to see this weakness, and so far none of the solutions have worked (that I've seen). The comment sections that tend to work are those with a bunch of very strong and right-minded (and always iron-fisted) moderators, strong users (in small numbers, though not too small) and without much longevity. Anonymity or having everyone post as themselves doesn't seem to help matters either way. Because as soon as word gets out that there is a comment section worth a damn, it will be flooded and soon the moderators are overwhelmed or the user base has changed so much that nothing good will come out of it but name calling etc. (there are many places that I love that have gone south recently, that is certainly one of the saddest things I've seen).
The more divisive a subject, the more likely this will happen. Given what we know about the strength of comments in influencing people's views, there is certainly the artificial shilling being paid for by those in power (on one side or another) as well as the inherent tribalism in those subjects and those most vested in them. As soon as a comment thread is not going one tribe's way or another's, they will flood the place and shout down any worthwhile discussion.
On reddit.com [1] the situation is the same: upvoting and downvoting has only a slight effect on matters. If a subreddit gets popular expect a huge downturn in quality (shills will come through etc) unless one has strong moderators (and even then, this only really works for subreddits with a specific topic like askhistorians). This is all enough to make one an enemy of democracy and a friend of autocracy (yet to look at places without comments, or with a limited conversation, like the nytimes, and one can see that this is not the solution as it seems to kill debate in any form).
Is there another way to get to improving comments? To making them more amiable to those deep narratives I mentioned (though I'm all for fictionalizing comments, mind you)? I would say that there are, and we merely have to think on them. First: having something like the restrictions that we place upon democracy is important. Moderators are needed. But since no site has the money to deal with the hordes that come through once popular, perhaps this can be done through laws enforced by algorithms (note that I'm diverging from the comments aspect and merely diving into how to get good comments).
1) Voting up and down comments. First, a good comment section works when there's a community. We can certainly allow that to happen by merely requiring a certain amount of time for user before they can comment, and if so, only with severe penalties. Like reddit one can accumulate points when the community agrees or disagrees with what they have to say. I'll add something else: that one needs to add a few things here: probation if you go below 0 (assuming one has gained that much "value" to vote) and to punish someone, or downvote, should cost one 4 points (and you gain one point if someone upvotes you, or for time spent contributing in some positive way to the site, to include time spent actively reading—one can think of many positive attributes needed in a community).
This would help people think twice about that which they hate and wish to downvote. One could have it so that given time spent could mean a certain person's vote means more. This would skew a site away from newer.fresher ideas, sadly. So perhaps one could judge how many upvotes they want to give a certain comment or post. This would, again, skew the site towards those who can gather the most votes through inane things like posting pictures of cats etc (not that this doesn't have its place, but it does matter if one wants deep conversations that matter). There could simply be a judgement call in this regard, or a segregation of votes gained in superfluous matters versus those in more serious topics. Of course, this isn't a cure to any site's ills.
2) Limit TribalismI would say another aspect that needs to be looked at and limited is tribalism (or hordes coming through to downvote that which they don't like, just look at any Israel-Palestine issue, or any others). This can be human nature as well as paid shills, but it exists. I would say another variable to be weighted is that of people coming through and voting one way to drown out new ideas. If people are known to interact, or to vote in pretty much the same way (in the same areas), then it can be said that if they vote on one thing (up or down) they cannot be allowed to have more influence than if two random people with not much in common vote up another point of view. Note that we can take time spent on the topic/site as another factor. This would help alleviate people just joining to push a certain point.
3) Limit troll accountsAbove I made the point that those who have tried to eliminate anonymity have not met with much success. Let's keep anonymity, but let's allow a limited amount (this would go against my attempts to see and create as many narratives as possible, I admit) of profiles to be created from a single IP address. Or perhaps ask for proof that there is someone behind the mask, but only charge a few cents to a credit card etc. This might help, though I'm not sure that it will matter as much as the opints above.
4) Another view: that of the wisdom of crowds.
Again, this plays into the democratic (as well as market) ideal that imagine many people, like myself, tend to default towards. We don't like seeing that fail. So when we see the mob we wonder why it is that we're not seeing the effects of the crowd helping us move towards the best answer (or discussion) to a question. Well, it would seem that group think comes into play (and distorts the positive effect of a crowd's wisdom) much more often and easier than we think.
Thus one needs to see the current set up of comments (with or without up/downvotes) as incorrect and we perhaps need a way to allow someone to interact with a certain article or topic without the group coming into play. They can put in their comments without seeing anything else, but then we risk cutting all conversation off (a huge part of why some read comments). Perhaps then what we need is a time where there are no comments, and only what people have to think about a certain article/topic and then a wave of comments (which can then be voted upon with the above specifications) followed by another wave at another time and so forth. Threads would then be allowed after a certain time (or perhaps follow a natural course in this time-wave manner). Or perhaps we could figure out an algorithm to get the best of all comments (not sure how this would work at all).
It seems that this would best create something from comments that would allow for the wisdom of crowds principle to prevail over other methods. It might end up looking completely different from what a comment thread today looks, but I dare say something better will come out of it.
Do you have any thoughts on the matter? Any better ways to set up something to minimize comment-decay?
[1] For example my most recent experience on reddit.com has been saddening to say the least. I've spent much of my time trying to curate some of the more nuanced articles or comments around. These usually get you nowhere. Especially if they go against whatever the accepted wisdom is. It would seem that there is a futility to deep talks or complex subjects (the reward here is either gaining a whole bunch of upvotes, or at least facilitating some level of a discussion). However, if one is to take the inane route (cat pics) or the path of least resistance, if we're going to deal with politics or geo politics, then the rewards will be multiplied many fold. Concerning the latter part, all one needs to do is to follow the zeitgeist and push the herd in the direction it's already running.
I recently posted an article about the heroics of some Iraqi against the barbarians de jour, ISIS, and was flooded with upvotes. 90% of all my upvotes, to be exact. That there might be paid government shills online goes without saying; however, that this would account for all of what I've observed doesn't seem as likely (not that I would be surprised to find this to be the truth, with the cloak of national security, our government can do whatever it likes and lie about it as well).
What does it say? It certainly says something about human nature, that need to push towards whatever way the winds are blowing, even when those winds are created by us. This is something separate from the internet, but the internet doesn't help matters. I wonder if the points I made above could help? There is limited information out there, and people tend to trust talking heads and politicians. I believe that we can still counter that, but we will need a lot of effort.
Enjoyed the writing? Here's a tip jar!
Then Subscribe to my mailing list* indicates requiredEmail Address * First Name Last Name Email Format htmltextmobile
[OM] Internet Narratives (part 3); 3 ways to limit Comment decay
Not really part 3 but rather part four or five or more. I have a guest post by English and more versions of what is possible, to include a video game, the creation of fractal never-ending stories (check out my own ongoing project to create something infinite) and the possible death of life for writers like myself: the creation of programs that will write more (quality and quantity-wise) than us.
I've talked about the nature of narratives today in a reply to what Franzen was saying about the paucity of potential in the internet. Indeed, for anyone with a grain of imagination, there is much hope in what one can achieve with the internet (or the possibility of the connections within the internet's structures, after all). I will say that given what I've seen, there is very little good coming out of the narratives (contrary to what I said before... and again, from what I've seen). This is not to say that the potential isn't there, simply that it hasn't been realized yet. Also, the internet certainly provides much in terms of valuable information (though much of it, like scientific papers, is behind paywalls), but I'll focus on narratives (in this case comments). I mentioned comments before and said that it has the potential to create much that's beautiful. Much of what we find entertaining in a comments section (and that makes them so addictive) is the natural flow of conversation between people. That comments are popular most everywhere in the world make me want to think that this is evidence of the inherent lean towards democracy in all people's souls (in this one facet, of course). But there is still something to be said for watching a train wreck and actually watching something that is not only narrative but narrative that enriches our lives.
What can one say? There is yet an example that I've seen where someone either creates a great narrative through comments (that is, harvesting the best aspects of comments and laying them out for us to read in a way that would define them as deep or enriching), or a design in comments that does allows it to happen. It would seem that all comment sections have the potential to be good, but as soon as they are good, they become popular, and that's where they fail.
Many people seem to see this weakness, and so far none of the solutions have worked (that I've seen). The comment sections that tend to work are those with a bunch of very strong and right-minded (and always iron-fisted) moderators, strong users (in small numbers, though not too small) and without much longevity. Anonymity or having everyone post as themselves doesn't seem to help matters either way. Because as soon as word gets out that there is a comment section worth a damn, it will be flooded and soon the moderators are overwhelmed or the user base has changed so much that nothing good will come out of it but name calling etc. (there are many places that I love that have gone south recently, that is certainly one of the saddest things I've seen).
The more divisive a subject, the more likely this will happen. Given what we know about the strength of comments in influencing people's views, there is certainly the artificial shilling being paid for by those in power (on one side or another) as well as the inherent tribalism in those subjects and those most vested in them. As soon as a comment thread is not going one tribe's way or another's, they will flood the place and shout down any worthwhile discussion.
On reddit.com the situation is the same: upvoting and downvoting has only a slight effect on matters. If a subreddit gets popular expect a huge downturn in quality (shills will come through etc) unless one has strong moderators (and even then, this only really works for subreddits with a specific topic like askhistorians). This is all enough to make one an enemy of democracy and a friend of autocracy (yet to look at places without comments, or with a limited conversation, like the nytimes, and one can see that this is not the solution as it seems to kill debate in any form).
Is there another way to get to improving comments? To making them more amiable to those deep narratives I mentioned (though I'm all for fictionalizing comments, mind you)? I would say that there are, and we merely have to think on them. First: having something like the restrictions that we place upon democracy is important. Moderators are needed. But since no site has the money to deal with the hordes that come through once popular, perhaps this can be done through laws enforced by algorithms (note that I'm diverging from the comments aspect and merely diving into how to get good comments).
1) Voting up and down comments. First, a good comment section works when there's a community. We can certainly allow that to happen by merely requiring a certain amount of time for user before they can comment, and if so, only with severe penalties. Like reddit one can accumulate points when the community agrees or disagrees with what they have to say. I'll add something else: that one needs to add a few things here: probation if you go below 0 (assuming one has gained that much "value" to vote) and to punish someone, or downvote, should cost one 4 points (and you gain one point if someone upvotes you, or for time spent contributing in some positive way to the site, to include time spent actively reading—one can think of many positive attributes needed in a community).
This would help people think twice about that which they hate and wish to downvote. One could have it so that given time spent could mean a certain person's vote means more. This would skew a site away from newer.fresher ideas, sadly. So perhaps one could judge how many upvotes they want to give a certain comment or post. This would, again, skew the site towards those who can gather the most votes through inane things like posting pictures of cats etc (not that this doesn't have its place, but it does matter if one wants deep conversations that matter). There could simply be a judgement call in this regard, or a segregation of votes gained in superfluous matters versus those in more serious topics. Of course, this isn't a cure to any site's ills.
2) Limit TribalismI would say another aspect that needs to be looked at and limited is tribalism (or hordes coming through to downvote that which they don't like, just look at any Israel-Palestine issue, or any others). This can be human nature as well as paid shills, but it exists. I would say another variable to be weighted is that of people coming through and voting one way to drown out new ideas. If people are known to interact, or to vote in pretty much the same way (in the same areas), then it can be said that if they vote on one thing (up or down) they cannot be allowed to have more influence than if two random people with not much in common vote up another point of view. Note that we can take time spent on the topic/site as another factor. This would help alleviate people just joining to push a certain point.
3) Limit troll accountsAbove I made the point that those who have tried to eliminate anonymity have not met with much success. Let's keep anonymity, but let's allow a limited amount (this would go against my attempts to see and create as many narratives as possible, I admit) of profiles to be created from a single IP address. Or perhaps ask for proof that there is someone behind the mask, but only charge a few cents to a credit card etc. This might help, though I'm not sure that it will matter as much as the opints above.
4) Another view: that of the wisdom of crowds.
Again, this plays into the democratic (as well as market) ideal that imagine many people, like myself, tend to default towards. We don't like seeing that fail. So when we see the mob we wonder why it is that we're not seeing the effects of the crowd helping us move towards the best answer (or discussion) to a question. Well, it would seem that group think comes into play (and distorts the positive effect of a crowd's wisdom) much more often and easier than we think.
Thus one needs to see the current set up of comments (with or without up/downvotes) as incorrect and we perhaps need a way to allow someone to interact with a certain article or topic without the group coming into play. They can put in their comments without seeing anything else, but then we risk cutting all conversation off (a huge part of why some read comments). Perhaps then what we need is a time where there are no comments, and only what people have to think about a certain article/topic and then a wave of comments (which can then be voted upon with the above specifications) followed by another wave at another time and so forth. Threads would then be allowed after a certain time (or perhaps follow a natural course in this time-wave manner). Or perhaps we could figure out an algorithm to get the best of all comments (not sure how this would work at all).
It seems that this would best create something from comments that would allow for the wisdom of crowds principle to prevail over other methods. It might end up looking completely different from what a comment thread today looks, but I dare say something better will come out of it.
Do you have any thoughts on the matter? Any better ways to set up something to minimize comment-decay?
Enjoyed the writing? Here's a tip jar! Then Subscribe to my mailing list* indicates requiredEmail Address * First Name Last Name Email Format
htmltextmobile
I've talked about the nature of narratives today in a reply to what Franzen was saying about the paucity of potential in the internet. Indeed, for anyone with a grain of imagination, there is much hope in what one can achieve with the internet (or the possibility of the connections within the internet's structures, after all). I will say that given what I've seen, there is very little good coming out of the narratives (contrary to what I said before... and again, from what I've seen). This is not to say that the potential isn't there, simply that it hasn't been realized yet. Also, the internet certainly provides much in terms of valuable information (though much of it, like scientific papers, is behind paywalls), but I'll focus on narratives (in this case comments). I mentioned comments before and said that it has the potential to create much that's beautiful. Much of what we find entertaining in a comments section (and that makes them so addictive) is the natural flow of conversation between people. That comments are popular most everywhere in the world make me want to think that this is evidence of the inherent lean towards democracy in all people's souls (in this one facet, of course). But there is still something to be said for watching a train wreck and actually watching something that is not only narrative but narrative that enriches our lives.
What can one say? There is yet an example that I've seen where someone either creates a great narrative through comments (that is, harvesting the best aspects of comments and laying them out for us to read in a way that would define them as deep or enriching), or a design in comments that does allows it to happen. It would seem that all comment sections have the potential to be good, but as soon as they are good, they become popular, and that's where they fail.
Many people seem to see this weakness, and so far none of the solutions have worked (that I've seen). The comment sections that tend to work are those with a bunch of very strong and right-minded (and always iron-fisted) moderators, strong users (in small numbers, though not too small) and without much longevity. Anonymity or having everyone post as themselves doesn't seem to help matters either way. Because as soon as word gets out that there is a comment section worth a damn, it will be flooded and soon the moderators are overwhelmed or the user base has changed so much that nothing good will come out of it but name calling etc. (there are many places that I love that have gone south recently, that is certainly one of the saddest things I've seen).
The more divisive a subject, the more likely this will happen. Given what we know about the strength of comments in influencing people's views, there is certainly the artificial shilling being paid for by those in power (on one side or another) as well as the inherent tribalism in those subjects and those most vested in them. As soon as a comment thread is not going one tribe's way or another's, they will flood the place and shout down any worthwhile discussion.
On reddit.com the situation is the same: upvoting and downvoting has only a slight effect on matters. If a subreddit gets popular expect a huge downturn in quality (shills will come through etc) unless one has strong moderators (and even then, this only really works for subreddits with a specific topic like askhistorians). This is all enough to make one an enemy of democracy and a friend of autocracy (yet to look at places without comments, or with a limited conversation, like the nytimes, and one can see that this is not the solution as it seems to kill debate in any form).
Is there another way to get to improving comments? To making them more amiable to those deep narratives I mentioned (though I'm all for fictionalizing comments, mind you)? I would say that there are, and we merely have to think on them. First: having something like the restrictions that we place upon democracy is important. Moderators are needed. But since no site has the money to deal with the hordes that come through once popular, perhaps this can be done through laws enforced by algorithms (note that I'm diverging from the comments aspect and merely diving into how to get good comments).
1) Voting up and down comments. First, a good comment section works when there's a community. We can certainly allow that to happen by merely requiring a certain amount of time for user before they can comment, and if so, only with severe penalties. Like reddit one can accumulate points when the community agrees or disagrees with what they have to say. I'll add something else: that one needs to add a few things here: probation if you go below 0 (assuming one has gained that much "value" to vote) and to punish someone, or downvote, should cost one 4 points (and you gain one point if someone upvotes you, or for time spent contributing in some positive way to the site, to include time spent actively reading—one can think of many positive attributes needed in a community).
This would help people think twice about that which they hate and wish to downvote. One could have it so that given time spent could mean a certain person's vote means more. This would skew a site away from newer.fresher ideas, sadly. So perhaps one could judge how many upvotes they want to give a certain comment or post. This would, again, skew the site towards those who can gather the most votes through inane things like posting pictures of cats etc (not that this doesn't have its place, but it does matter if one wants deep conversations that matter). There could simply be a judgement call in this regard, or a segregation of votes gained in superfluous matters versus those in more serious topics. Of course, this isn't a cure to any site's ills.
2) Limit TribalismI would say another aspect that needs to be looked at and limited is tribalism (or hordes coming through to downvote that which they don't like, just look at any Israel-Palestine issue, or any others). This can be human nature as well as paid shills, but it exists. I would say another variable to be weighted is that of people coming through and voting one way to drown out new ideas. If people are known to interact, or to vote in pretty much the same way (in the same areas), then it can be said that if they vote on one thing (up or down) they cannot be allowed to have more influence than if two random people with not much in common vote up another point of view. Note that we can take time spent on the topic/site as another factor. This would help alleviate people just joining to push a certain point.
3) Limit troll accountsAbove I made the point that those who have tried to eliminate anonymity have not met with much success. Let's keep anonymity, but let's allow a limited amount (this would go against my attempts to see and create as many narratives as possible, I admit) of profiles to be created from a single IP address. Or perhaps ask for proof that there is someone behind the mask, but only charge a few cents to a credit card etc. This might help, though I'm not sure that it will matter as much as the opints above.
4) Another view: that of the wisdom of crowds.
Again, this plays into the democratic (as well as market) ideal that imagine many people, like myself, tend to default towards. We don't like seeing that fail. So when we see the mob we wonder why it is that we're not seeing the effects of the crowd helping us move towards the best answer (or discussion) to a question. Well, it would seem that group think comes into play (and distorts the positive effect of a crowd's wisdom) much more often and easier than we think.
Thus one needs to see the current set up of comments (with or without up/downvotes) as incorrect and we perhaps need a way to allow someone to interact with a certain article or topic without the group coming into play. They can put in their comments without seeing anything else, but then we risk cutting all conversation off (a huge part of why some read comments). Perhaps then what we need is a time where there are no comments, and only what people have to think about a certain article/topic and then a wave of comments (which can then be voted upon with the above specifications) followed by another wave at another time and so forth. Threads would then be allowed after a certain time (or perhaps follow a natural course in this time-wave manner). Or perhaps we could figure out an algorithm to get the best of all comments (not sure how this would work at all).
It seems that this would best create something from comments that would allow for the wisdom of crowds principle to prevail over other methods. It might end up looking completely different from what a comment thread today looks, but I dare say something better will come out of it.
Do you have any thoughts on the matter? Any better ways to set up something to minimize comment-decay?
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