Various

I Read Where I Am. Exploring New Information Cultures

Various

I Read Where I Am. Exploring New Information Cultures

Introduction

We are street readers. Look at us, info junk dealers, as we zip through the telephone, scan a newspaper we’ve just read, leaf through a magazine. We are the new generation of readers. Not dumber, just faster. We whiz through three lives at once. Let’s be honest: reading has become a different experience. Reading has become looking and vice versa. Information has become tactile. You don’t have to remember anything, you just look it up. Could it be that the average person (still) doesn’t like reading? Can you call what people do on Facebook and Twitter reading? Absorbing books and newspapers was something from which you traditionally became wiser, because unusual opinions, special thoughts, new developments, and fantasies were revealed. But there have always been good and bad books. Quality and pulp have always existed.

We are info junkies. People don’t know where to draw the line and, in today’s consumer society, are constantly fighting for control. Information, following food and the environment, may be next in line for an analysis on sustainable development. Information has become a consumer product because it is linked to the form in which it appears. New platforms and formats are appearing with greater frequency on the market. Text, video, sound, and graphics intermingle. Everybody is busy answering, uploading.

We all know the main lines of info evolution, from the printing press to the iPhone. By now the information is drifting through space and there are new tools for reading and writing, which each time combine the multimedia mix in a different way. Each change is in itself large and has consequences for the economy, politics, and the social status of our existence.

In I Read Where I Am the Graphic Design Museum , together with the Institute for Network Cultures, investigates recent developments in the field of information design. The book is produced under the Infodecodata programme, an exhibition about information design that was launched in 2010 in the Graphic Design Museum . Infodecodata presents new developments on the cusp of text and image.

Much discussion took place in the twentieth century about the relationship between art and science, but it often did not go further than good intentions. Engineers do not want to involve artists in crucial stages of the research and artists in turn are all too determined to remain ‘autonomous’. But now we see them actually coming closer together. This has not happened because good intentions have all at once been turned into deeds. It is the technology itself that develops form and content simultaneously and considers it to be a whole. Different types of content and readers ask for different forms and experiences. The question remains: which form will it assume and what experience do you want?

In I Read Where I Am, 82 invited authors, artists, critics, and designers present a wide range of observations, inspirations, and critical notes about how we daily consume and produce our information. We intended to leave the justified nostalgia for what it is and asked the expert-amateurs to look further than the current hype around the iPads and Kindles. This publication does not only reflect the current state of affairs but also speculates about the significance and importance of new forms of image-text in the future. Let us together place them in the world and not wait for ready-made products from Silicon Valley . The reflections presented here are explicitly intended to be read as a guideline for the following generations of ‘reading machines’. All that remains is for us to design them – without losing our attention.

Mieke Gerritzen is designer and director of the GraphicDesignMuseum.

Geert Lovink is media theorist, net critic and director of the Amsterdam-based Institute of Network Cultures .

Essays by:

Arie Altena

Henk Blanken

Erwin Blom

James Bridle

Max Bruinsma

Anne Burdick

Vito Campanelli

Catalogtree

Florian Cramer

Sean Dockray

Paulien Dresscher

Dunne amp; Raby

Sven Ehmann

Martin Ferro-Thomsen

Jeff Gomez

Denise Gonzales Crisp

Alexander Griekspoor

Hendrik-Jan Grievink

Ger Groot

Gary Hall

John Haltiwanger

N. Katherine Hayles

Toon Horsten

Minke Kampman

Lynn Kaplanian-Buller

Kevin Kelly

Joost Kircz

Matthew Kirschenbaum

Tanja Koning

Steffen Konrath

Erin La Cour

Rudi Laermans

Warren Lee

Jannah Loontjens

Alessandro Ludovico

Peter Lunenfeld

Ellen Lupton

Anne Mangen

Lev Manovich

Luna Maurer

Geert Mul

Arjen Mulder

Caroline Nevejan

David B. Nieborg

Kali Nikitas

Henk Oosterling

David Ottina

Peter Pontiac

Ine Poppe

Emilie Randoe

Bernhard Rieder

Paul Rutten

Johan Sanctorum

Louise Sandhau

Niels Schrader

Ray Siemens

Karin Spaink

Erik Spiekermann

Matthew Stadler

F. Starik

Bob Stein

Michael Stephens amp; Jan Klerk

Carolyn Strauss

Dick Tuinder

Lian van de Wiel

Bregtje van der Haak

Els van der Plas

Rick van der Ploeg

Daniel van der Velden

Adriaan van der Weel

Erwin van der Zande

René van Engelenburg

Francisco van Jole

Peter van Lindonk

Koert van Mensvoort

Tjebbe van Tijen

Dirk van Weelden

Jack van Wijk

Astrid Vorstermans

McKenzie Wark

Simon Worthington

1. Gathering Up Characters – Arie Altena

Reading behaviour changes, also because of the influence of technology. Empirical research has shown that a screen-based reading behaviour has arisen because we are online so much and read from the screen. A characteristic of this reading behaviour is that more time is spent on browsing, scanning, and identifying key words. Reading is selective, things are not read more than once, and it is generally non-linear. It is said to be at the expense of concentrated and in-depth reading.

That’s probably right. Readers in the richer countries read more and more from the screen. The developments of the past twenty-five years have been just as radical as those following the invention of book printing. With the transition from printed material to digital text, there was, to a certain degree, a shift from ‘owning text’ to ‘accessing text’; from a book or magazine that you hold in your hand, to access to text in the ‘cloud’ – the internet – via an appliance. (I write ‘to a certain degree’ because in the past the ‘access’ to text was primarily for professional readers: you had to be in the library.)

How, then, will we read in the future? No different than in the past – at least as long as it’s about converting word images into something with linguistic meaning. That people are reading more from the screen doesn’t, of course, mean that concentrated reading is a thing of the past, or that nobody ever reads out loud. When reading selectively, scanning, the word image is converted into meaning. After seventeen to eighteen years of screen reading, the question of how you ensure a concentrated reading experience in the current – and future – media ecology still fascinates me.

I am still not really impressed by the e-readers (the format misery is still a long way from being solved) and the tablets (you can’t read from a reflective screen in the sun). The e-readers have a problem with access, the tablets one with ergonomics. It is getting better – but slowly.

I hope that in fifty years we are using reading appliances and accounts in the ‘cloud’ that individuals are completely in charge of, and that there are no organizations that check and log what bytes you download, analyze it in real time, sell on the data, and save it. Or at least, should that happen – and it will happen; that it will benefit to the customer – and that alternatives will also exist. I hope that use will be made of simple data formats and of simple software. I hope that a free circulation of knowledge takes place.

Printed material is text and reading appliance in one. In the future it will be expensive. But once it has been produced, it doesn’t get broken very easily. It has one advantage: you only need light if you want to concentrate and read it in private. Light from the sun.

Arie Altena writes about art and new media; he works for V2_ in Rotterdam and co-curates the Sonic Acts Festival.

2. Better Stories – Henk Blanken

When man began to speak, around fifty thousand years ago, the earth was already billions of years old. That the word was ‘in the beginning’ is exaggerated, but yet: man became man when he started stammering and passing on his history not purely via his genes but as stories. It is our stories that distinguish us from other animals.

Stories help us forward. That went faster thanks to writing and printing, and then we discovered science and finally, as an afterthought, journalism, which began to tell stories as they were taking place.

The word has always been in power, and the power has always had the word. Journalists keep tabs on that power. Things were better when ‘the press’ was able to reach more people. At the end of last century, journalism was stronger and more powerful than ever. And there you have mediacracy.

And then things went downhill with the word. Mass media is the product of an industrialized century, just like mass consumption and mass marketing. But at the end of last century, the mass began to crumble. Rather than a silent majority, we wanted to become assertive individuals.

Thanks to Internet, just as radical as those first stammerings, we could say what we wanted. The paradigm of the mass media – press talks, masses listen – is replaced by something else: we all talk, albeit in small groups. Not the masses but the group – the clan – is the measure of the Internet.

Us and our 287 friends. The word is subject to inflation. The decline in reading has little to do with that. It is a normative term. The hours we spend reading on the Internet do not appear in the statistics. Apparently, there is a difference between ‘high’ and ‘low’ words, just as there is between high and low culture. That perhaps explains why we complain about the decline in reading and at the same time worry about information overload.

Is it really so bad if we read fewer ‘high’ words, less ‘crime and punishment’ and more twitter feeds? If we lose our ability for ‘deep reading’? Or will that be replaced by associative digital network reading, via tags and ‘likes’ and links, supported by video, or an instant translation from the Arabic, which is a mess but good enough?

I hesitate. Journalists must live with the inflation of the word. And the word, just like the masses, is falling apart. The inflation of the word is the inflation of the power – and of journalism.

What saves journalists is the story. Not necessarily their story. Or that of their antagonists, the politicians. Stories originate in networks, and are not told by the masses, but by small clans. Perhaps society will eventually have enough with these new stories, but I wouldn’t want to bet democracy on it.

But journalists will have to tell better stories and tell those stories better than ever. There’s more than enough shallow news. Even stories with a head and tail, heroes and scoundrels, sweat and tears are no longer scarce. But the need for stories that tell what we share and do wrong, how we suffer and love, is as old as mankind.

Henk Blanken is a journalist and writer of books on digital culture and new media.

3. From Books to Texts – Andrew Blauvelt

It took about 300 years for the codex (the book as a set of bound pages) to rival the popularity of scrolls and another 300 years to replace it completely. This easy to read, efficient, durable, compact, portable, and randomly-accessible format multiplied with the invention of the printing press and endured for the next 1400 years. In 2010, Google estimated that there are about 130 million unique books in the world. In 2011, Google had scanned more than 15 million books and planned to have all known books scanned by the end of the decade. In 1971, Project Gutenberg was launched as the first collection of digitally formatted texts (what we now refer to as eBooks). In 2011, many booksellers reported that eBook sales surpassed their hardback equivalents for the first time. It has taken only 40 years for digital texts to rival printed books.

In a reversal of the publishing process, digitization converts an image of a book page back into language – searchable, retrievable, scalable, and translatable text. This linguistic alchemy transforms atoms into bits, the fixed materiality of a book into fungible texts. In the future, most designers will be creating reading experiences not book designs. However, the codex survives for much longer than we think. To paraphrase Kenya Hara, the physical book becomes an information sculpture – a unique, haptic, three-dimensional reading experience. Counterculture guru Stewart Brand once remarked that information wants to be free, but he also noted that it wants to be expensive because it can be valuable. In the future books will be more expensive while eBooks will be ubiquitous – their texts having already been liberated from the codex will want to be free.

Andrew Blauvelt is Curator of Architecture and Design at the Walker Art Center , Minneapolis .

4. I Read More Than Ever – Erwin Blom

I like reading. I’m crazy about print. Everyday, two newspapers fall onto the doormat, every week I buy a pile of magazines during my weekly trip along the shops. But I read each of the publications less and less. In the early morning, I can better look at Internet for current information rather than in the newspaper that went to the printers half a day ago. And for depth, I can better visit specialist sites than read magazines that wrestle every month with a scarcity of pages. No matter how much I love the printed media, I increasingly experience that they offer me insufficient added value. I am slowly saying farewell to something which has always been so dear to me.

For digital media can be text and image and sound. With digital media I can chat online with other people about the subjects that interest me. With digital media I can get customized content and therefore more of what fascinates me and less of what doesn’t interest me. And digital media are dynamic and can be current at any moment.

As far as newspapers and magazines are concerned, publishers see new distribution channels such as iPads as possibilities to repeat their old trick one more time in a new packaging. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work anywhere. Of course people buy Wired or de Volkskrant out of curiosity, but after an initial optimism, the numbers sold have drastically dropped.

It is as logical as can be, but not, apparently, for the publishers of paper. In an environment with new possibilities, I do not want to be confronted with old limitations. I want my media to be diverse (also audio and video), I want my media to be up-to-date (latest information always available), I want my media to be social (be able to share content with people), and I want my media customized (matching my interests).

Is it dreadful that people are reading less, but are getting informed in other ways? No, of course not. Is it dreadful that the reading behaviour of people is changing? No, of course not. The people that think that only a doorstop of a book can provide depth and that a summary of short messages and interactions on Twitter has no substance, have done nothing more than take a cursory view of things. Adding everything together – blogs, Twitter, mail, Facebook etcetera – I read more than ever, but increasingly less with those parties that used to have exclusive rights to reading matter.

Erwin Blom is founder of The Crowds, a company specialized in social media.

5. Encoded Experiences – James Bridle

Books are changing, and the nature of reading, what we take away from it, is changing too. Books used to be physically malleable things that we marked, physically, with our experiences: dog-earing them, underlining them, highlighting, and copying out. But the books will not be physical for very much longer.

The great misunderstanding of digitization is to believe that it is only the content and the appearance that matters. That, to reproduce the experience of the book, we needed to make a screen that looked like a page, that turned like a page, that contained words. And the reason that we've had difficulty for so long with the notion of eBooks is that that is not all that books are.

Books are journeys, and encoded experiences. The writer has spent months, perhaps years, producing this work out of themselves. That devastating last line of James Joyce's Ulysses: ' Trieste – Zurich – Paris 1914 – 1921.' And the book is the medium of transmission of that experience, so that the reader, too, can experience it, and go on their own journey.

The books are subliming, they are going up into the air, and what will remain of them is our experiences. That experience is encoded in marginalia, in memory, and in data, and it will be shared because we are all connected now, and because sharing is a form of communal prosthetic memory.

When Walter Benjamin wrote that 'what shrinks in an age where the work of art can be reproduced by technological means is its aura', he was assuming that the aura diffused, that it was lost to the other reproductions. But digital technologies do not just disseminate, they recombine, and in this reunification of our reading experiences is the future of the book.

James Bridle is publisher, writer and editor.

6. Watching, Formerly Reading – Max Bruinsma

I don’t read, someone I know well told me. She meant that she doesn’t read the way ‘readers’ read. People who can spend hours on end with a book in a chair or on the sofa, occasionally turning over a paper page and appearing to have completely forgotten that there exists a world outside the sentences they are reading. No, she’s not one of those readers. But, I say, you actually read the whole day through! You scan articles and books, browse through websites and online fora, open and answer emails, gloss over newspaper headlines. Yes, but that’s not reading, she says. What it is, then, I don’t know, but I do know that on an average day she processes more text than many a ‘reader.’ I am from a somewhat older generation; I know how it feels to be immersed in a book. But I have to admit that it’s been a while. My reading also seems to be less than what it originally meant to be. Yet I would be too quick in saying I don’t read – at most that I read too little, but even that is not entirely true. I read differently.

What we used to call ‘watching’ seems increasingly like what we once called ‘reading’. Then they were different things, with a clear hierarchy. Reading was ‘absorbing content’, watching was ‘receiving an impression of something.’ The first was a conceptual activity that was valued higher than the second, a more passive, sensory affair. The fact that you do both with your eyes was less important than the thought that reading conjures up a non-existent picture and watching processes existing pictures. Only for trained viewers – art historians and design critics such as myself – the two were alike. Our looking is also reading; for us, a picture is also a visual text. What I’ve noticed is that since the irresistible increase of the ‘visual media,’ non-professional viewers have also become more and more readers. Concurrently, the idea that the only thing you can read is text is losing ground.

We, the homini visuali, do not only read and write words but also images. The form in which things appear to us has thus become just as much text as text has become image. Perhaps that is why she says that she doesn’t read – because reading is no longer what it used to be. Reading has also become a form of ‘getting an impression of something’. A scanning of visual stimuli, that are linked together in our head into something of significance. These stimuli can be letters or pictures, the difference between the two – once so fundamental – is fading. That doesn’t just mean that we have become more aware of the sensory side of reading; it also means that watching has become a more conceptual, more reflective activity. And that terms that used to stand for superficiality, for absorbing transitory visual impressions at a glance, such as ‘scanning’, ‘leafing’, ‘browsing’, ‘watching’, have developed into the most significant concepts of our culture.

Here, oversight is becoming more important than insight. You can lament this and say that the depth that was so connected to the old reading – penetrating deeply into a text is fathoming the world behind reality – dissolves in a view without dimensions. But that comes down to rendering a new phenomenon in old concepts. Something like designing the recently invented automobile as a horseless carriage. You see what is missing from the device, but not what you have gained in its place. The new oversight is not, as it used to be thought of, a perspective on an expanse of plain, but penetrates deeply into the transparent and limitless space of data that the world has become. Oversight is: seeing what links or can link the data. Anyone observing the current profusion of data visualizations that help us understand a reality caught in figures – a reality that used to be called virtual but is now becoming more real than the real – knows what I mean: the image has become a text, the real significance of which is in its property of having us understand what it means at a glance. Once we start reading longer, we are in danger of losing our way in incoherent details.

Like text and image, insight and oversight are growing closer together, merging into each other. Perhaps even the old hierarchy will be reversed: reading, then, will be understood as the scanning activity that gains us oversight and enables us from there to gather significance, to choose (gathering and choosing are, after all, two ancient meanings of ‘lecture,’ the Latin root of which means both), and watching will become the word for what we realize when we pause at something for longer than a transitory moment. If you really want to fathom something, you will have to watch. Long and intensively, just like former times with a book in your lap on the sofa.

Max Bruinsma is an independent design critic and editor-in-chief of Items, the Dutch review of design.

7. If Words, Then Reading – Anne Burdick

If interface, then navigation. If disguise, then disclosure. If map, then itinerary. If resource, then use. If environment, then wayfinding. If plan, then practice. If erasure, then reconstruction. If sketch, then animation. If architecture, then dwelling. If capture, then release. If trace, then archeology. If program, then process.

Anne Burdick is a designer, writer, and curator as well as the Chair of the graduate Media Design Program (MDP).

8. Flowing Together – Vito Campanelli

Maybe it’s trite but when I reflect on the evolution of reading modalities I cannot do without thinking that, in the present historic moment, we are witnessing an epochal 'change of status': from the invention of the alphabet to mechanical movable type printing and even to deconstructionism (Derrida, above all), the text was organized into rigid structures that, despite the heterogeneity of their evolutionary trajectories, have come to constitute as many cages. We know that a cage means a condition in which every possibility is ordered to remain confined within it, so that – to take some practical examples – the interpretation of a written text or its reworking, not being able to take place outside that precise form/cage in which the text was shaped, inevitably end in adapting themselves to the rules of the game and to the set of finite possibilities of that very context. The various dominant forms, characteristic of specific ages, have determined the 'thought form' of their time, so that alphabetic writing is a prerequisite for the emergence of historical consciousness; the printed book is crucial for the spread of a generalized confidence in the linear progress of science, without which there would be no industrial revolution; and so on.

The form/cage also assumed the function, somehow, of social glue, in fact, old and new generations, conservatives and progressives, despite the apodictic distance of their instances, have had to confront each other from a common ground: they have had to sit at the same table or – if you prefer – behind the same bars. Today, with the digitization of the text, we see a radical change that – in my opinion – must be identified with the abandonment of all form/cage. The text, in fact, becomes fluid and begins to flow along with other data, therefore, together with any other cultural expression and with contemporary identities and existences. Everything is included in a flow which, by its very nature, denies itself to any stable form. Everything becomes transitory and in this new condition, establishing new rules of the game (a temptation which many cannot resist) is quite like writing on the foreshore: it is something that will last only until the next wave. Obviously in the last twenty years old media forms and metaphors (such as the page of the book) have been mostly used; however – and this is the key point – no one and nothing can prevent the same content (only illusorily fixed in a form) beginning to flow in a kaleidoscopic range of different configurations. Stripped of any structure, without any predetermined and sequential paths, reading becomes a flowing together with the other elements of the flow, creating temporary (even ephemeral and extemporary, if you like) relationships and configurations. Fantastic, isn’t it?

I love this new condition and I believe I have been privileged to have lived on both sides of this epochal 'change of status'.

Vito Campanelli is new media theorist and teaches Theory and Technics of Mass Communication at the Università degli Studi di Napoli 'L'Orientale'.

9. Highway Drugs and Data Visualization – Catalogtree

Experts do not need visualization to be able to read data. A musician can hear the music as he reads a score. The rest is at the mercy of graphics and audio.

A few years ago we were working on a project about the motorway between Arnhem and Nijmegen , the A325. We used a series of silk-screen prints to show various aspects of the motorway. Where did the most accidents occur? Where did people drive fastest? Which approach and exit roads were used most? We made use of data that the province collected 24 hours a day at various measurement points along the road. Three civil servants worked in this measuring department: one was responsible for traffic counts, using a computer system dating from 1977, one was responsible for speed measurements on a system dating from 1992 (not compatible with the former), and a third was the coordinator of the other two.

We kept in touch with them by telephone and e-mail and asked for interesting data. They were pleased to help. They went out in a mobile measuring unit to take measurements that they then sent us by mail. We received an enormous e-mail with tens of thousands of figures, separated by commas. A completely abstract jumble of figures that was explained in the subject line of the mail: ‘Look, a monster tailback!’

A frequent misconception in data visualization is that treating data subjectively is tantamount to lying. It is often said that data must be presented as objectively as possible, but to our minds that leads to an exact reproduction of the original data set. That is perhaps the best method if you’re dealing with the top ten best selling books, but if the visualization represents tens of thousands of pieces of data, that makes a good interpretation impossible. To be able to tell a story means that it is necessary to place the emphasis somewhere, to make an editorial choice, so that the reader understands what is being told without having to be an expert.

Another misconception is that a visualization must be clear at the first glance, otherwise it has failed. We once drew a map about drug transports between South and North America . It had to show which drug cartels were active (around twenty such cartels), what they were transporting (various types of drugs, weapons, money, people), how they were transporting them (various means by land, by sea, and through the air), which routes they took, and which alliances they had formed in order to work efficiently. A fairly complicated map of course and one which required some effort from the reader if it were to be fully fathomed. A data visualization can easily have a higher information density than the written word. Yet nobody glancing at a page covered with words expects that the content is immediately clear. You have to read it first.

Although those provincial civil servants didn’t need our visualizations to know what was happening on their roads, they nevertheless derived considerable pleasure from our silk-screen prints. They quickly replaced the art in the corridors which had been purchased by the province. ‘Well’, they said, ‘this is art that actually means something!’

Joris Maltha and Daniel Gross run the multidisciplinary design studio 'Catalogtree', specialized in making information visualizations.

10. The Revenge of the Gutenberg Galaxy – Florian Cramer

Let’s be clear, reading is not limited to alphabetic language, but is actually any act of visual or tactile perception involving interpretation of signs: graffiti tags, photographic images, sickness symptoms. Since human perception always, inevitably, involves interpretation, the line between perception in general and reading in particular is perfectly blurry.

Even reading versus listening is a questionable distinction. Our understanding of spoken words is highly modulated by visual reading – the so-called 'McGurk effect' describes how we misperceive a spoken word when the speaker's lips suggest a different word. In a world with intelligent beings, forecasting a future without reading might be futile. But it’s worth asking how we read now, and what kinds of reading we are moving towards.

Following the semiotician Charles S. Peirce’s three basic types of signs – iconic (based on semblance, whether a portrait painting or an onomatopoetic word like 'bang'), indexical (based on traces; smoke as an indicator of fire) and symbolic (abstract numbers, the alphabet or morse code) – 20th century media theories generally predicted a crisis of symbolic symbols in favour of icons, going from the mass medium of the book to the mass media of cinema and TV.

This prediction became the bottom line of the Frankfurt School 's critique of the culture industry, of McLuhan's TV-centric 'global village' after the 'end of the Gutenberg Galaxy', and of the 'iconic turn' declared by art historians since the 1990s. Even the development of symbolic machines appeared to follow this route, as computers evolved from the (symbolic) command line to an (iconic) graphical user interface. The future of culture, and of reading, once seemed inevitably visual-iconic.

The Internet alongside economic neoliberalism has completely shaken these seeming truths. Who would have predicted ten years ago that major youth culture media would not be some hypermediated mutation of MTV, but SMS, Twitter, and Facebook? Even MTV’s de-facto successor, YouTube, cannot be used by the illiterate because of keyword tagging, commenting, and searching (same with Flickr, the leading Internet platform for still images).

This requisite computer literacy in fact means a massive resurgence of symbolic literacy – the revival of a more or less classical concept of reading following a cultural and economic logic of compression. That is, reading and writing alphabetical text is often the most compressed and therefore efficient way of rapidly processing information, a notion explored early on in the Middle Ages when monks read texts without speaking them aloud. Now, in the form of e-mail and related types of electronic communication, reading and writing has taken over the workplace and dissolved the difference between work and home, between being fixed in space and hitting the road.

The symbol-centric, mobile medium of the text page has overtaken telecommunication, but instead of the monk’s contemplative codex, we find a second wave of industrialization and escalation of workplace efficiency.

Florian Cramer is director of the Piet Zwart Institute and head of the research programme Communication in a Digital Age.

'Florian Cramer having received about 30 work-related e-mail messages while writing this text.'

11. Where Do You Read? – Sean Dockray

I read where I am but sometimes I'd rather read where you are. I'd rather sit on your lap and have you read to me. I want to see what you underline and I want to know why. I want to know what's behind those words you're jotting down in the margins. Why are you looking in the index now? Is that another book? Are you taking a break? How many pages do you read at once? In what order do you read them? I want your reading to be my reading, I want to have your reading because the text is good yes, but only as good as sheet music, while what you have is virtuosity. I want to be there when you read, not when you write, but when you read, although I know that you can't read without writing, neither can I. We write when we read and we read when we write, sometimes I’m not sure if this is my breath or yours, or somebody else’s and I’m not sure that it matters anyway.

Sean Dockray is founder of AAAARG.org, an online archive of texts, as well as founder of the first Public School, a project initiated by Telic Arts Exchange in Los Angeles .

12. Pancake – Paulien Dresscher

When, in 2007, I decided to resume studying after a break of 15 years, I discovered with a shock that I could no longer write without a computer. After days of thorough preparation, I entered the lecture hall to sit my first exam. When it started, I began industriously writing things down, but I quickly encountered problems. The second sentence didn’t flow well, it had to be reversed; I crossed it out and started again, turned the sentence around and then went on to the second paragraph. This also turned into a mess. I went to get fresh paper and threw a worried glance at the clock: I had already lost twenty minutes. A slight panic crept over me. Could I handle it?

My concern was not only that I apparently had become so stunted by cut-and-paste tools that linear text production seemed now virtually impossible, but also that the whole process preceding this – ordering my thoughts and formulating arguments – couldn’t take place without ten finger tips subtly leaning, gliding, typing over the qwerty keyboard, with the Internet browser, spell checker, and thesaurus within easy reach. Even more confusion arose in me from the realization that I hadn’t even noticed that I had changed this much.

Just as Socrates was concerned that the invention of writing would make people forgetful, people today are worried about the degree to which we are permanently shaped by digital technologies. The playwright Richard Foreman recently expressed his concern about digital dependency in his suggestion that we are on our way to becoming ‘pancake people’, in contrast to those who are cursed with a more ‘complex, dense, and cathedral-like’ mental structure. The pancake people are ‘wide and thin’, connected to the network of information, while the cathedral people have internalized a personal vision on the world.

The contrast between the words pancake and cathedral is deliberately humorous, but it is also normative. It ignores the multitude of possibilities that the Internet offers us and the irreversibility of media change. A subtle awareness of the advantages and disadvantages of digitality is crucial.

Although, according to Foreman, I have, in recent years, developed into a networking pancake – and probably a lot more besides me – I still now and then go to a meeting in good spirits with a writing pad. I can’t prevent my hand involuntarily, but with a certain regularity, moving to the bottom of the paper page to check a phantom mouse pad, to see whether there are any messages or in order to look up something. These days, I deprogram my body more regularly and flick the online switch to ‘off’ sometimes. By the way – I passed that exam.

Paulien Dresscher is head of New Media at Cinekid, advisor E-Culture at the Netherlands Film Fund, filmmaker, and researcher.

13. Between Reality and the Impossible: Revisited – Dunne and Raby

'What human beings are and will become is decided in the shape of our tools no less than in the action of statesmen and political movements. The design of technology is thus an ontological decision fraught with political consequences.’*

What happens when you uncouple design from the marketplace, when, rather than making technology sexy, easy to use, and more consumable, designers use the language of design to pose questions, inspire, and provoke – to transport our imaginations into parallel but possible worlds?

The projects in this exhibition** focus on designing interactions between people and technology on many different levels. They are concerned not only with the expressive, functional, and communicative possibilities of new technologies, but also with the social, cultural, and ethical consequences of living within an increasingly technologically mediated society. They explore new ways in which design can make technology more meaningful and relevant to our lives, both now and in the future, by thinking not only about new applications but their implications as well, both positive and negative.

The futurologist Stuart Candy uses a wonderful diagram to clarify how we think about futures. Rather than one amorphous space of futureness, it is divided into 'probable', 'preferable', 'plausible', and 'possible' futures. One of the most interesting zones is 'preferable'. Of course, the very definition of preferable is problematic – who decides? But, although designers shouldn’t decide for everyone else, we can play a significant role in discovering what is and what isn’t desirable.

To do this, we need to move beyond designing for the way things are now and begin to design for how things could be, imagining alternative possibilities and different ways of being, and giving tangible form to new values and priorities. Designers cannot do this alone, though, and the projects here benefit from dialogues and consultations with people working in other fields such as ethics, philosophy, political science, life sciences, and biology.

The idea of probable, preferable, plausible, and possible futures – the space between reality and the impossible – allows designers to challenge design orthodoxy and prevailing technological visions so that fresh perspectives can begin to emerge. The exhibition is absolutely not about prediction, but about asking 'what if', speculating, imagining, and even dreaming in order to encourage debate about the kind of technologically mediated world we wish to live in – hopefully, one that reflects the complex, troubled people we are, rather than the easily satisfied consumers and users we are supposed to be.

Dunne and Raby is a design studio run by Anthony Dunne and Fiona Raby.

Andrew Feenberg, [1991] 2002 Transforming Technology: A Critical Theory Revisited. Oxford : Oxford University Press. (p. 3)

This text was originally written for the catalogue of the Biennale Internationale Design 2010 Saint-Étienne.

14. Weapons of Mass Distraction – Sven Ehmann

I love reading. That is why I took three books along on a recent vacation. Three books that I picked carefully from my library and was sure to enjoy: poetry by Ossip Mandelstam, an early Pynchon, and Fragebogen (questionnaires) by Max Frisch. No recent popstar author, no must-read non-fiction title, just books for my pleasure. In the end I read none of them. Instead I decided-surprised and almost frightened-that not reading would make an even better holiday. Instead of gathering more input, I gave myself a break, time to think, time to contemplate, time to forget.

We are in a period of data-rush. Getting information is banal. Data is gathered, processed, and available anywhere, anytime. It can be very useful or very annoying, but finding the time, capacity, and tools for making sense out of the data-for the moment as well as the foreseeable future-is the real challenge. That is why I so very much appreciate the work of dedicated professionals like journalists and editors. Or a new kind of professional that The Economist described in a special report entitled ‘Data, data everywhere’ in February 2010 as 'the data scientist, … [who] combines the skills of software programmer, statistician, and storyteller, [working as an] artist to extract the nuggets of gold hidden in mountains of data.' I praise these authors, curators, and designers who make the effort of turning information into an experience for me as the reader.

What inspires me the most right now is the field of data visualization, information graphics, and visual storytelling as it can be found in publications such as the Italian supplement IL. A new breed of data journalist is passionately working to find appropriate, understandable, and entertaining visual representations for complex datasets or processes. Having said that, I feel that-despite the popularity of the phrase 'a picture is worth a thousand words'-visuals are not always understandable and easy to read. We are challenged to develop more sophisticated visual literacy across society, and those currently working in information graphics are helping to do just that. They clearly intend to prevent data graphics from being merely a short-lived design trend. Today's designers, including Nicholas Felton, who became known for publishing personal data in the form of an annual Feltron Report, are closely reading, examining, and discussing the quality of a visual in addition to the quality and story of the data behind it (for example, in Felton's case, those in acclaimed designer Jonathan Barnbrook’s The Little Book of Shocking Global Facts). And many other designers are also contributing to this critical discourse.

Beyond the individual story, the joy of dealing with information is the experience one has with different types of media. I am happy to see how some media outlets keep experimenting to make the best possible use of different channels. Glamorous titles such as Monocle as well as smaller ventures such as the online feuilleton Berliner Gazette are using print, web, mobile, audio, motion, events, exhibitions, et cetera to extend a story rather than just duplicating it over and over again.

What I feel is still missing, though, are the right tools for me to handle my data. Getting data is easy, but selecting, storing, indexing, updating, and most importantly contextualizing the information is rather difficult. What is the opposite of Google, the smart output device? Maybe the range of upcoming online curation tools like Storify might offer a solution, but will the amount of time I need to invest in working with these tools ever pay off?

In the meantime I keep struggling, exploring, enjoying other tools and outlets, while always being happy to come back to proven and trustworthy sources. One of the most powerful promises in media sits right at the top left of the New York Times-the printed paper, that is. It reads 'All the News That‘s Fit to Print’. Nothing more, nothing less. Carefully selected, condensed. In comparison to that, most blogs are just weapons of mass distraction.

Sven Ehmann is Creative Director at Die Gestalten Verlag.

15. Reading Beyond Words – Martin Ferro-Thomsen

My literature professor understood reading as a relative concept: One might grasp the words without yet comprehending the meaning. Ideally the reader would discard her library every five years, because by then she had elevated her perspective…

That’s an elitist notion of reading in stark contrast to the reality of today. Text as a medium is being challenged by ever more engaging forms of communication. And it seems the conditions for deep reading are pretty much being killed by mankind’s ongoing experiment to digitize society. Irony, anyone?

Me, I’ve parted with most of my print library. For good. Ninety percent of my reading now takes place on-screen, although I’m uneasy about digital books living inside those intangible walled gardens. Can I pass them on to my kids, like my mother did with Camus to me? Will they keep my side notes? Will they smell?

Let’s not get overly nostalgic just yet. Text remains a universal vehicle for human thought and often it’s the shortest distance from one mind to another. But as we stumble into digital renaissance, our understanding of both text and reading will have to encompass more than mere words: hyper-connectedness, vibrant plasticity, social interaction, and dynamic contextuality.

Martin Ferro-Thomsen, M.A. is co-founder of Issuu, a leading digital publishing platform.

16. We Left Home; Why Shouldn’t Ideas? – Jeff Gomez

A hundred years ago books were pale shut-ins, escaping overstuffed shelves only sparingly; maybe one or two volumes at a time but never en masse. Libraries were huge, shy, lumbering things; as big as a herd of elephants (and just as portable). But today, with the advent of eBooks and devices such as the Kindle and iPad, we have the potential to carry around with us at all times our entire book collections in a digitized format. Whether or not this is a threat to publishers or bookstores (or even to writers) is beyond the point. Let us, for a moment, consider what this means to readers.

Since the invention of print there has never been a back pocket or book bag large enough to fit a bookshelf full of books (let alone an entire library), and yet now all of that text can live inside a tiny gadget. Our various portable screens then become portals to limitless knowledge, imagination, or anything we want them to be. Stories, novels, entire worlds are at our fingertips. And books, for centuries shackled to the shelf (sometimes literally), are turned from static, bound, physical objects to caged birds finally allowed to take flight.

Jeff Gomez is author of the book Print is Dead: Books in our Digital Age.

17. Delectation – Denise Gonzales Crisp

‘Type well used is invisible as type’, wrote Beatrice Warde in the early 1930s. Like a clear glass goblet, a crystalline window, and a perfect speaking voice, transparent typography is the 'unnoticed vehicle' for 'the transmission of ideas'.

Text sputtered onto screens in alien bitmap types some fifty years later. The jagged forms were as exotic and present as lugubrious calligraphy inked by medieval scribes.

Current high definition screens deliver typography comparable to, if not more refined than, early twentieth-century printing, with conspicuous additions: animation, scalability, variability. Wilful visuality. Human voice, too, translates written text to palpable form in audio 'books', an unwitting feat of reverse engineering that recalls oral traditions. Ears read words filtered by elocution.

Reading is, and was always, mediated by form, contained by technology. Heavier at times, and lighter. As legacies instruct we read in four full dimensions using at least three senses (the sixth is not considered here). Touch fingertips to raised dots. Click to advance. See words appearing, and disappearing. Turn the page. Warde eschewed 'delectation of the senses' where reading is concerned. Impossible.

Denise Gonzales Crisp is a designer, writer, and Graphic Design professor at North Carolina State University , College of Design .

18. Welcome to the Digital Age. What Changed? – Alexander Griekspoor

Scientists read a lot. In fact the entire academic ‘workflow’ is based on publishing papers, a drive that acts as both the final goal and the starting point of research, and also fuels the massive industry of academic journals. Interestingly, more and more of these journals no longer print articles on paper but distribute them as digital PDFs, a transition dating to 1998 that became the standard in the following years, right around the time I was doing my PhD. Back then I still copied physical journals as poor quality black and white pages to read at home or on the way to school.

It’s no wonder that both scientists and publishers love the PDF format. Thousands of these files can be stored on your hard disk, so you can get rid of piles of paper on your desk and in dusty old filing cabinets. But does the PDF really solve our storage issues?

Well, yes and no. The PDF format does get rid of the piles of paper, but instead we quickly end up with the digital equivalent of them on our computer. The ease of downloading articles only increases the scale of the problem. Our critical mistake is to think that the transition to a new format alone adequately addresses storage concerns, but this view doesn’t consider the importance of organization. I witnessed this exact problem a few years earlier with the shift from audio CDs to digital MP3 files, leading to the digital equivalent of audio CD racks in the form of folders multiplying on your hard disk.

Interestingly, iTunes solved this problem by allowing you to arrange and retrieve songs using relevant sorting information, or metadata. I figured that exactly this is needed in the digital research paper world, which is how I came to build Papers, an application that removes the hassle of handling and organizing PDF files and instead lets you focus on keywords such as paper title, author, journal title, et cetera. Papers is in many ways a non-obvious but crucial part in the successful transition to a new, digital workflow. I would even argue that these tools and the workflow around content will require more dramatic changes than those needed for the initial format transition from paper to PDF. Even more than changes in formats, in distribution methods, or even in the devices we read on, organizational tools and the workflows we create for our documents will ultimately determine the shape of reading in the future.

Alexander Griekspoor is the co-founder of Mekentosj, an independent software company that writes innovative software for researchers.

19. Non-linear Publishing – Hendrik-Jan Grievink

The books that I find interesting are more likely to be printed collections than linear stories and are also consumed as such. Traditional categories of publishing disappear, the only relevant distinction is offline or online. Or: does the story remain static or will it change over time and enter into relationships with other stories? For offline media, visual aspects are more important, the designer moves to the fore in the publishing process where he assumes the place of editor. With the Next Nature book* that I have compiled in the last two years together with Koert van Mensvoort, the traditional publishing process is turned inside out: from a small blog for publication in one’s own circle to a network with many contributors and 1.5 million unique visitors per year with a few thousand shorter and longer observations about what we called ‘nature caused by people’. The book deepens and contextualizes existing content and is made up of seven magazines glued together, each with its own theme. This compilation process has had in turn a large influence on the design and layout of the blog: the thematic approach has been implemented online, specials from the book are adapted. On the blog, connections are made through links; in the book we do that by bringing the content together thematically, whereby the image is always leading. Ten years ago, a website was conceived for every project; today, being networked is the starting-point – always linked with your public.

Hendrik-Jan Grievink is an editorial designer and co-founder of the Next Nature Institute.

Next Nature, Actar, summer 2011, 450 pp.

20. Subtitling – Ger Groot

The misconception that a picture says more than a thousand words is based on the idea that it is immediately clear what a picture means. You see a shoe, think ‘shoe’, but what do you actually see? It only becomes clear from the story around it that this is the shoe with which Nikita Khrushchev hammered the desk at the United Nations.

The presenter of the television programme tells us that and so conjures up a world of memories. Cold War , Cuba Crisis, the Netherlands hardly recovered and yet happiness was still commonplace. All this flashes through our mind’s eye as a gentleman speaking Russian shows us around the museum of Soviet reality. The man says something in Russian and we read it in Dutch along the bottom of our television screen.

With the exception of advertising slogans and instructions for use, no text has become such a natural part of our everyday lives as subtitles. Everybody reads them throughout the day, so automatically that picture and subtitle have become intertwined and Derrida seems finally to have been proven right: the whole world has become écriture.

There is another way. In many other countries, the viewer doesn’t get to hear the Russian guide, or at most somewhere in the background. A voice in the viewer’s own language is superimposed, so easily understood that it melts into the picture. And in reaction it seems as if the latter is actually speaking. Word and voice disappear in the testimony of the ‘thousand words’ that seem to be spoken to us by what we see.

And so it seems as if the picture has the upper hand over the text, as the prophets of the image culture have been telling us for years. But that demands a very high price. Filtering out the Russian by eliminating the text in the picture also has suppressed the foreign aspect that the original contained. The world in voice-over never really leaves the cosiness of the familiar. It no longer hears any incomprehensible Russian. It only ultimately knows itself.

No wonder, then, that in countries with post-synchronization, not only is the knowledge of languages at a lower level, but also knowledge of the world. That reality is larger, more spacious, and more alienating than they had always thought simply doesn’t sink in.

The classic book reader already knew that, but the subtitle reader discovers that daily. The writing beckons him out of the immediacy in which everything literally speaks for itself. The image is layered thanks to the doubling of the text, which suggests a whole universe between legible writing and foreign voice.

No image speaks for itself and no voice is simple enough to coincide with this. Without text, the visible remains enclosed within the horizon that can be scanned with the eyes. It only becomes meaningful thanks to the word; cosmopolitan thanks to the writing. Looking by itself is, after all, a somewhat narrow-minded activity. Only when the world becomes legible and something can be deciphered in its image can it be freed from the restriction of the look. Only then is there really something to see in its image.

Ger Groot is a writer and teaches Philosophy at the Erasmus University Rotterdam and Philosophy and Literature at the Radboud University Nijmegen.

21. Ambient Scholarship – Gary Hall

Today knowledge and information are increasingly being externalized onto complex, multilayered, distributed systems of computers, databases, blogs, wikis, RSS feeds, video-sharing sites, and other kinds of social networks.

What are the implications of this prosthetization of knowledge for the scholars of the future?

Will the men and women of learning who emerge from the current generation of students continue to internalize particular branches of knowledge by means of extensive, and intensive, reading and study?

Will they still be expected to master their field?

Will scholars not come to concentrate more on developing their specialist search and retrieval skills – confident in the belief that, if they need to know something, then they can find the relevant information quickly and easily using Google, Facebook, Wikipedia, as well as a host of open access, open education, open science, and open data resources?

In which case, is there a risk that a large part of their authority is going to pass to administrators, managers, or technicians?

Will scholars themselves increasingly come to resemble such figures: experts who do not necessarily need to possess the knowledge contained in the systems they administer and have access to?

Instead, their authority will rest on their ability to search, find, access, and even buy knowledge and information using online journal archives, full text search capabilities, electronic table of contents alerting, and citation tracking, and to organize the results into patterns, flows, and assemblages?

Or will such developments lead to the emergence of a different form of scholarship, whereby learned individuals no longer acquire the bulk of their information in concentrated immersive doses, as they might have in the past, from sitting down in a library or study and carefully reading a book?

Rather they experience more fragmented and distributed flows of information – at home, in the street, while travelling by car, or waiting to catch a train – that nevertheless enable a certain body of knowledge to be built up over a period of time.

Might this be described as ambient scholarship?

Gary Hall is author of Digitize this Book! and Professor of Media and Performing Arts at Coventry University .

22. Set the Text Free: Balancing Textual Agency Between Humans and Machines – John Haltiwanger

The computer has eaten typography, just as it has eaten everything else. The ramifications of the coded extensions we wrap our text in are both practical and ideological.

In a rare ideal, digital text moves fluidly from format to format, expanding to enjoy the material specificities found in, for instance, HTML and PDF. The more locked down a format is, the harder this necessary multiple existence becomes. Microsoft Word is a remediated typewriter with a capitalist agenda, and its outputs are as brittle as ink and pulp in terms of format fluidity.

Modern typography bases itself on a notion of message encoding, meaning that the typeface in which a message is set becomes part of the message itself. This message was initially set in a libre font called Lato. It was generated entirely using libre software, with a method that allows for transduction into not only HTML and PDF but also into any other format for which specifications are available, a material quality not available in the proprietary mechanism of its final typesetting. Generative typesetting demands a retreat from human-biased textualities presented by WYSIWYG tools, replacing it with a more equitable balance between human and machine. A foundation in libre ideology defies the on-going colonization of capital, rejecting the proprietary in favour of liberated textuality.

John Haltiwanger engages new media in theory and practice. He is a member of the Open Source Publishing collective.

23. Educate Well, Read Better – N. Katherine Hayles

Literacy is not without neurological consequences. Recent research in fMRI studies indicates that reading changes how the brain functions. My students increasingly read on the Web rather than in print. What difference does this make? The question is not only what they read, but how they read. Reading on the Web seems to encourage skimming. While useful as a technique to identify quickly items of interest, it can become a disadvantage when working with complex digital literary forms. For example, when I assigned my students Shelley Jackson’s classic hypertext fiction Patchwork Girl, they were unprepared for the work’s density, extent, and complexity. By contrast, when they read Mary Shelley’s print novel Frankenstein, they fully expected to spend several hours (or days) with it. Does this mean that reading on the Web is making us distracted, as Nicholas Carr has argued, or in the more extreme view espoused by Mark Bauerlein, that it is making us stupid? Such arguments overlook the fact that strategic reading practices have always included skimming and scanning, as any scholar can testify. The trick is to have a repertoire of varied reading techniques and the experience to shift to one or another depending on the situation. Where we are failing as parents, teachers, and educators is teaching our digitally native students a full range of reading strategies and educating them on how to use them in disciplined and creative ways.

N. Katherine Hayles is a professor in the Literature programme at Duke University , Durham , NC .

24. Reading the Picture – Toon Horsten

When Hergé, the creator of Tintin, was interviewed in the seventies, he wasn’t certain of things. The comic strip, and Tintin in particular, had had its day. The medium was out of date and the strip story could not compete with the new forms of amusement (including games and animation films).

In the following four decades, it seemed as if Hergé was right. With the digital revolution, it seemed that there wasn’t for the moment any place for the combination of picture and text as they appeared in the comic strip. Reading comic strips on a computer screen was trying. But now that the iPad and other tablets seem to have taken over the market for digital reading, the picture suddenly looks completely different. Comic strips appear to be extremely suitable as reading matter on an iPad. Although the possibilities have to be further investigated.

The iPad version of the Suske and Wiske album De stuivende stad [ed. The Bustling City ], issued to celebrate the 65th anniversary of the series, leads the way. The comic strip, supported with a full soundtrack and some slight animation, shows which possibilities the new applications can offer for reading comic strips.

They will have to ensure, however, that with all the new possibilities, they don’t simply end up reinventing the animation film.

Toon Horsten is writer of Het Geluk van de Lezer [ed. Happiness of the Reader] and artistic leader of Strip Turnhout.

25. Apples and Cabbages – Minke Kampman

‘We didn’t need dialogue, we had faces.’ A sentimental line by Norma Desmond in the movie Sunset Boulevard, explaining why silent movies were so wonderful and so much better than talking movies. Being immersed in the topic of reading as I was when watching the film, I could not help connecting this line to reading as I did with almost anything I saw or read or heard about. With so-called ‘talkies’, we did not only add spoken dialogue to film, we added foley sounds as well. Fake sounds that are a better representation of the sound than the actual sound itself. We make the story come more vividly to life by adding the sound of chopped cabbage when a head is chopped off or by clapping together two coconut shells for a horse galloping away. Even though the cabbage in itself has no relation to the storyline, this additional layer of sound enriches our viewing experience.

With regard to our reading experience, we’re about to leave the stage of sentiment we are in now. A stage in which most of the commercial software and hardware still try to replicate the ‘real’ reading experience by imitating a book and having us turn the page, make bookmarks, and read chronologically. No wonder that we are still comparing the two, as Norma did with silent movies and talkies. Imagine what she would have said about YouTube. A platform in which the metadata has taken over and completely changed our viewing experience, and yet we still go out to watch movies in the cinema.

Alessandro Ludovico states in his text: ‘Digital and print, while being two different worlds, are not mutually exclusive.’ Both will remain in existence and evolve, but should not be compared with each other, just as you shouldn’t compare Cinema with YouTube either. Both chronological and non-linear reading is possible in digital and print. The argument that digital would make reading a more mobile activity is ridiculous; you can take your book anywhere and it will never shut down on you. Subdividing reading into digital and analogue seems a bit redundant, but is perhaps necessary to define two different starting-points from which we can proceed further.

Looking at the future of reading also means looking back to see what we want to take along for the ride. We will continue to read; we just add new layers to alter the reading experience for better or for worse. And in decades time perhaps we will be saying: 'We didn’t need an interface, we had print.' Or we have managed to find our cabbage and are able to redefine what reading can entail.

Minke Kampman is an editor, teacher, and new media researcher.

26. How Will We Read? – Lynn Kaplanian-Buller

As text appears everywhere – even beamed on the wall while we exercise or onto the ceiling as we lie in bed – we read faster and faster. In the fifties a technique for speed reading postulated that the brain can comprehend much faster than the eye can see. So training the eye to read a whole page rather than by word or sentence, hugely increases the speed of comprehensive reading. We will all soon speedread, our eyes teased ever-faster forward by texts paired with images.

But besides reading faster and faster, a clearer division between warm and cold reading will emerge. Cold reading is for gathering information involving head-thinking and fast eye movement. Gaming might even pump up the heart rate, but cold reading doesn’t open the heart. For cold reading, hard cased electronic devices are fine delivery systems.

Warm reading happens when we open our hearts. As the author’s words move us emotionally, we give off an emotional charge which gets absorbed into the paper page. It’s a private kind of reading, often done in bed, and we seem to sense that organic materials like paper can absorb and keep the reading experience safe for another day.

Books can act as 'transitional objects' – objects which are able to attract, hold, and release emotions that might otherwise overwhelm the person. Just as a teddy bear helps a child to survive the absence of its mother, we often treasure a book as a means to survive an otherwise hostile situation. One can 'retreat' into a book and share with it our own feelings as we work them out, one step removed from real life.

We treasure leather-bound, vellum, and antique books because the materials seem to have absorbed the thoughts and emotions as well as the fingerprints of those who read that copy before us. Paper-bound books can do this as well: children’s books saved for the next generation, journals written by hand. The authenticity of being able to run your hand over the page touched by the author or previous owner is a warm experience which we will increasingly crave as we are engulfed with cold texts.

The ability to print a personalized original manuscript or facsimile of an eclectic title will produce gifts overflowing with intention. 'I know you like trains and that your family live in Australia , so, for your birthday, I made a copy of Locomotives of Australia 1854-2007 on the Espresso Book Machine.' 'Mom, I had grandma’s poems and diary made into a book for you. If you’d like to add your poems and diary, we can print new copies for all the family members.'

To receive such a gift feels very different from receiving a link to a 'really good download', doesn’t it? Small printing devices will let us fabricate and personalize digital texts on organic paper, creating unlimited warm reading experiences for us and to share. A haven to hold.

Lynn Kaplanian Buller is the director of The American Book Center in Amsterdam.

27. Screening – Kevin Kelly

In the morning I begin my screening while still in bed. I check the screen near my pillow for the time, my wake-up alarm, and also to see what news scrolls by. I screen the tiny panel that shows messages from my friends. I wipe the messages away with my thumb. I walk to the bathroom. I screen my new art works on the wall – these are more cheerful and sunny than the ones yesterday. I get dressed and screen my outfit in the closet. It shows me that the red scarf would look better with my shirt. In the kitchen I screen the full news. I like the display horizontal in the table. I wave my arms to direct the stream of writing. I turn to the screens on my cabinets searching for my favourite cereal. A screen floating above the refrigerator indicates fresh milk inside. I reach inside and take out the milk. The screen on the side of the milk carton tries to get me to play a game, but I quiet it. I screen the bowl to be sure it is approved clean from the dishwasher. As I eat my cereal, I nod and the news stories advance. When I pay close attention, the news gets more detailed. As I screen further and deeper, the text has more links, denser illustrations. I begin screening a very long investigative piece on the local mayor, but I need to take my son to school. I dash to the car. In the car, my story continues where I left off in the kitchen. My car screens the story for me, reading it aloud as I drive. The buildings we pass along the highway are screens themselves. They usually show advertisements that are aimed only at me, since they recognize my car. I usually ignore them, except when they show an illustration or diagram from the story I am screening. I screen the traffic to see what route is least jammed this morning. Since the car learns from other drivers’ routes, it mostly chooses the best route, but it is not foolproof yet, so I like to screen where the traffic flows. At my son's school, I check the wall display in the hallway. I raise my palm and the screen recognizes me. It shows me my personal interface. I can screen my messages. I glance at the ones I want to screen in detail and it expands those. I wave some forward and others I swoosh to the archives. One is urgent. I pinch the air and I am screening a virtual conference. My partner in India is speaking to me. They are screening me in Bangalore . I finally make it to the office. When I touch my chair, my room knows me, and all the screens in the room and on the table are ready for me. The eyes of the screens watch me closely as I conduct my day. After 16 years of watching me work, they can anticipate a lot of what I do. The sequence of symbols on the screens makes no sense to anyone else, just as my colleague’s sequence baffles me. When we are working together we screen an entirely different environment. We gaze and grab different tools as we hop and dance around the room. I am a bit old fashioned and still like to hold smaller screens in my hands. My favourite one is the same leather-cased screen I had in college (the screen is new, just the case is old). It is the same screen I used to create the documentary I did about the migrants sleeping in the mall. My hands are used to it and it is used to my gestures. I can screen a realie in about an hour, speed screening the whole way. You should see the pads and streams go flying. When I get home, I try to slow down. I like to screen relaxing, affirming visions on the walls. Although my son likes to screen adventure games, we limit it to one hour before dinner. During dinner we screen mood colours to centre our meals. I will admit that we'll sometimes screen questions about school work, or food ingredients, or trivia, but we try to keep those screens small. After dinner I like nothing better than to lie in bed and screen my favourite story on the ceiling till I fall asleep.

Kevin Kelly is Senior Maverick for Wired Magazine.

28. I Don’t Read on My Bike – Joost Kircz

I read the whole day long and tease my brain, a neurological fruit salad consisting of various pieces of tasting, touching, feeling, hearing, counting, naming, scaring, and translating. With the left half of my brain, I read a traffic sign and know that I may Not turn right. No text and yet understandable. I don’t read text on the bike, but I do listen to music. This immediately suggests that reading is not listening and that electronic texts are completely different to music files. An image is a cultural recognition in context: the mouth of my beloved, the icon of a recycle bin on my screen, the fear that is generated on the screen by a film trailer. A text stands for naming, understanding, transferring, and reusing. Sometimes an image enhances a text, the image illustrates an intention; sometimes, the image is primary such as a wound. Here the text explains what we see. Text needs space, because reading depends on the textual image. Typography and layout are conditions for understanding. Text structure depends on the supporting material. Stone is beautiful, paper is superb. New materials will prove they can be carriers. Long reading and educational texts require attention and repose. Text is for knowledge; image is for preserving that knowledge. Reading is thinking, is work.

Joost Kircz is part-time programme manager electronic publishing at the HvA [Hogeschool van Amsterdam] and director of Kircz Research Amsterdam.

29. Reading As Event – Matthew Kirschenbaum

Reading is an event, not an act. Books are incidental (in the fullest meaning of the word). Texts are signals, transmissions. This is where I am now when I read, not a place but a mode, not a favourite chair but a state and frame. Think of it as resolution.

Matthew G. Kirschenbaum is Associate Professor of English ( University of Maryland ), Associate Director of the MITH, and Director of Digital Cultures and Creativity.

30. Reading the Network – Tanja Koning

As editor of an independent magazine, I am naturally crazy about paper; nothing is as fine as the smell of a new magazine. Yet when it came to writing this piece, I didn’t think of that. What is fascinating me most about reading at the moment is the new carrier of information: the network. Networks hang over us like a thick mist; we cannot see them, and certainly cannot touch, leaf through, or smell them. And yet it is the carrier of much of our reading matter.

Are networks fine? Is there are difference between one network and another? And when making a network, can we talk about a craft comparable to binding a book or a medieval handwriting? In short: does a network have a face?

A number of artists and designers have recently unmasked the network by representing it as a phenomenon that is almost like a landscape.

A good example of this is the visualization Aron Koblin made of SMS messages on Queen’s Day, the Netherlands . Thanks to data from KPN, he made a inventory of the quantity and place where messages were sent and compiled this information into a visualization that is most reminiscent of a skyline, floating like a layer over the floor plan of Amsterdam .

Or the project YOUrban by Einar Sneve Martinussen. Together with the Oslo School of Architecture and Design, he developed a way of visualizing WiFi in Oslo . He marched through the city with his research team, armed with a long stick with LEDs that can measure the signal strength of WiFi through radio waves. Thanks to photography using long shutter times, a screen of these signals became visible and thus showed, literally, 'the networked city.' For a moment. And that’s what we’ll have to make do with for the moment. The face of the network is always different and only visible for a moment.

Tanja Koning is freelance programme maker and project leader of Discovery Festival and O.K. Periodicals.

31. Nearby and Global in Its Impact – Steffen Konrath

Many people have stopped reading newspapers on a daily base. Circulation figures are on the decline worldwide. Don't worry. It is a declining interest in a content presentation form not in reading. Demand for stories is still high. While on the move many already prefer access to stories worth reading at the time they like and wherever they are. But the stickiness to a specific story brand, a specific publisher, is also likely to lose its strength. Highly connected and globally aware, people are open for changes, new reading experiments, and experiences. We are already living in the era of News3.0.

A (near) future day – my smartphone is always on. Push services send me short little messages of breaking news to my little device making information available wherever I am and at any time of the day. The latest push notification tells me, without going into too much detail, that the dictator in the North African country has now been arrested. It is enough to catch my attention. My tablet in my pocket allows me to read the follow up on the news online while driving through a rural area in Southern Bavaria, Germany . So far it is only a ticker message without much more concrete information and more and more questions pop up. Who has confirmed the news? Are photos already available as visual evidence or video footage to support what I read before?

The story is 'hot' enough for me to decide to open a Liquid Newsroom*, a virtual on-demand environment for collaborative writing. I label the topic ' Northern Africa ' and set up the topical 'room' for it on-demand and in real time. I quickly check my social network of trusted news sources – people in the area of interest, Northern Africa – to see whether anyone can be reached and can provide me with details or material. When the new topic working space on the Liquid Newsroom platform is opened, a new portal front-end comes into existence, where readers connected to the Internet via PC or mobile devices can easily check in to stay informed. The Liquid Newsroom is not run by a publisher, it is an on-demand network for publishing news as a team that can vary over time, only connected via the topic they like to address.

A first flow of information hits my virtual desktop in the ' Northern Africa ' newsroom. News sources have started to pick up the story. But now it is time to guide my readers through the growing stream of information and update it, analyzing the value added by each of the new stories coming in. I publish the information I have gathered almost immediately to the front-end to create a constant flow of what's new to readers who opt-in to the content stream e.g. subscribing to the feed via their smartphone devices. They do not stay in a passive mode. Some are concerned about what's happening and return questions via the integrated Q amp;A-button in their smartphone app. The questions from the readers connected to the topic stream provide a constant feedback in the editing and updating process. Together with real-time statistics (active views, reading, retweets, and the like) monitored on the screen as well, I decide which stories to follow up. In the meantime, friends working and living in the East and West Coast of the US have joined my ' Northern Africa ' liquid newsroom to work on the stories as well. I'm exhausted after hours of curating and am happy to pass the story lead on to these colleagues, knowing that they will pass it on in turn to Asian colleagues at the end of their day. In the virtual room we've already started to exchange thoughts via live chat, simultaneous editing of articles, and voice-over IP calls. Our discussion is interesting enough that we decide to make our editing process transparent on the corresponding website, so that readers can watch the process flow. It is time to relax and yes I know that after a few hours of sleep I will be back again.

Steffen Konrath is editor-in-chief of nextlevelofnews.com and blogs about the future of journalism.

The Liquid Newsroom is an open innovation project. It is currently under development and updates will be published on Konrath’s blog at www.nextlevelofnews.com.

32. The Interface of the Graphic Novel – Erin La Cour

I was first drawn into the world of graphic novels while working as an editorial assistant at a New York based publishing house where I was assigned to assess the potential sales benefits of acquiring graphic novels for my imprint. This was a daunting task on multiple levels, not least of which was my naive assumption that publishing companies are primarily interested in disseminating poignant new literature, not sales figures. The book my boss put on my desk was Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis , which at the time had sold over 500,000 copies, a huge feat in the publishing industry for any genre, and an even more impressive number for a memoir written by an unknown author. This fact led me to question what it was about the graphic novel that could generate such a large readership.

The growing interest in graphic novels in popular culture further confirmed that there has been a visible shift in the way in which we consume and process information, and a movement from textual to visual narratives. Indeed, today we consume information at a much faster rate than ever before due in large part to our increased use of technology, where it has become the norm to process information in quicker clips using various modes of communication, often in combination with each other, such as text and graphic, or audio and visual. But while this readership could indicate a lack of attention span or a dumbing down of culture, and certainly comics have long been dismissed as lowly kitsch (Greenberg, Krauss), it was clear that Persepolis, like many other graphic novels, could not be categorized as unsubstantial either in content or form.

What the graphic novel highlights is that with the surge in multimodal dissemination of information, we are perhaps getting closer to a better means of comprehending information available to us that is less obtuse than language alone. By presenting information in multimodal means, which are based on the five senses rather than in just the codified system of language, we are more likely to understand what is presented to us as it is more closely linked to our nature as sensual humans.

Through the structure of its layout, including its 'boxes of time' (Chute and DeKoven), frames, gutter space, images, and onomatopoeic words, alongside text that is often handwritten and therefore offers a 'trace of the human' (Kittler), the graphic novel creates a new interface, so to speak, for what has long been considered a limited, static media. The graphic novel thus dismantles the idea of the obsolescence of the book in the age of new media, illustrating how the book can adapt to changes in readership, offer a challenge to its readers to learn to read differently, and perhaps more importantly, highlight that the book can be a platform encouraging a new means of interaction between media and user.

Erin La Cour is a PhD candidate at the Amsterdam School for Cultural Analysis (ASCA) where she researches graphic novels and cultural memory.

33. Minimal and Maximal Reading – Rudi Laermans

Nowadays, information is not scarce – there is far too much of it, or rather, far too many information possibilities, as I will explain. But why speak of a surplus; what is actually lacking? The scarcest good in an information society is our vastly time-bound individual perception. We live in an attention economy, distinguished by intense competition among innumerable producers and mediators of information. Using every rhetorical ploy, they want to capture and modulate our perception, then aggregate it, creating momentary attention communities or publics. Nevertheless, attention depends on the individual observer: information is in the eye of the attentive beholder. Why does this, and not that, image, title, shape catch a person’s notice? It’s always an enigma in the end: time and again, we realize that the deeper logics of perception are non-observable. They escape us, although they fundamentally determine what we find interesting, attractive, seductive – in a word: informative. This awareness that our perception in general and attention patterns in particular are ultimately opaque to our consciousness, marks us as decentred subjects, no French philosophy needed.

Whatever the underlying motive, the contemporary information user actively considers, selects, retains, and perhaps also reads, in the genuinely hermeneutic sense of interpreting or deciphering the overall, or 'deeper', meaning of a series of words, images, or sounds. This level of reading differs from immediate sense making, or minimal reading, that simply recognizes what one already knows. On the other hand, the maximal reading that most reception theories suppose involves a short interruption, a moment concerned with the difference between something’s directly understood meaning ('I’m looking at a picture of a man') and one or more other possible meanings, or even absence of meaning ('why does the man wear these clothes?'). The search for an 'exact' meaning is commonly coupled with deciphering the intention of the information producer. Whereas minimal reading is user-oriented, maximal reading is author-centred.

In an environment saturated with information possibilities, we read both more and less. As the minimal mode of reading increases, its maximal counterpart becomes rather exceptional (and thus also more 'elitist', even among those holding a university degree). Many commentators decry this growing superficiality. Yet we also process more information in greater variety. It’s therefore wiser to say that we’re moving beyond 'the Age of Hermeneutics': deep interpretation of some texts is gradually superseded by flat comparison of more information. Readers turn into comparers, with resulting gains and losses. While we have more points of reference, we are less adept at savouring the richness of a singular bit of information. In an information-rich society, authentic astonishment also becomes a scarce good.

Rudi Laermans is professor of theoretical sociology at the Faculty of Social Sciences of the Catholic University of Leuven.

34. Reading Apart Together – Warren Lee

Books have in many ways become an integral part of my life; I have been in the book business now for forty years. I have done just about everything in the trade except operate a printing press and I have learned that books have souls; I know this because I know how difficult it is to throw one away, if it has reached that point of no return at the end of the value scale. There is a voice which keeps saying: 'Find a way to let me live on'.

I read for pleasure and I would rather read a hardbound book than a paperback, and, I love well designed books; books which become something more than just a receptical for words and pictures. Books which become objects of desire, for which collectors will do almost anything to own. A weakness that is well known to bookdealers and often used to profitable results.

It is the tactility of books which I feel will be their salvation in the onslaught of electronic paper, eBooks, and still unheard of new inventions. I was reminded of this only recently while sitting in the Eurostar coming from London . I had settled into my seat and taken out the book I was reading at that time; an English gentleman sat down next to me, opened his briefcase and took out his Kindle and also started reading. We were both seriously into our reading for some time but I found myself reflecting on our parallel situation. There came a point when I interrupted him to ask how he found the experience of reading electronically as compared to a printed book. He laughed and said: 'But I love books and I have a house full of them at home. I read and I travel a lot therefore I just cannot carry around the extra weight of real books, and my Kindle offers me a wide selection to choose from.'

We talked shortly about the pros and cons and then both retired again into our reading. I was happily reassured that the book will not be replaced, but will find its place in the onslaught of the electronic era.

Warren Lee is the owner and co-founder of the internationally renowned bookstore Nijhof and Lee in Amsterdam .

35. Unexpected Ways – Jannah Loontjens

How and where we encounter literature determines how we approach the text. Not only do our physical surroundings influence our reading experience, but also the framework in which a text is presented or discussed. If a novel is discussed by Oprah Winfrey, it is easily associated with therapeutic literature and a women’s audience; if the same novel is reviewed in the New Yorker it is taken to be more serious. Exposés of the author’s life are often associated with lowbrow forms, whereas highbrow outlets are assumed to focus on the work itself. This prejudice no longer reflects reality. Highbrow media also increasingly write about authors’ lives. Yet as long as such exposés are printed in, say, the New Yorker, they are not considered a disreputable way of approaching literature. In fact, all media increasingly scrutinize the lives of authors to the same extent as they scrutinize the lives of ordinary people in reality soaps and talk shows.

People seem curious to read about private lives in order to reflect upon their own lives; it seems that readers do not want to know this information about the author in order to understand his work better, but rather to understand themselves better. While the increasing attention for the author scares critics, who believe that the approach of the 'autonomous work' is the only possible way to value literature on its own merits, I am convinced that literature does not need to be protected from bad influences. In fact, literature that seemed almost forgotten, or studied only by academics, is finding a new readership through new media. Tolstoy and Faulkner, for example, were suddenly popular, because their novels were selected for Oprah’s Book Club, which took care to portray the background of the authors on its website. Virginia Woolf’s novel Mrs Dalloway (1925) also recently gained an unexpected new readership, because of the release of the film The Hours (Stephen Daldry, 2002), which is partly about Woolf’s life. This is the way literature survives through, in, and via new media, and finds new readers in truly unexpected ways.

Jannah Loontjens is a writer and poet.

36. Consume Without a Screen – Alessandro Ludovico

Since the arrival of electronic media, visionaries have speculated on ways to expand our physiological reading limits beyond the constraints of print, in order to absorb, through a sort of cultural osmosis, huge quantities of information in a fraction of time. They foresaw what we now call digital technology, though originally imagined as much more powerful than today’s fare and often involving the body as primary interface. In line with their predictions, since the early 1990s we've expanded reading space almost ad infinitum through global networks of hypertexts. Now we're back again, considering the book the perfectly sized medium with a universal 'interface'. In fact, after twenty years of re-inventing the wheel, through multiple and unnatural combinations of icons, graphic and animations, contemporary e-reading interfaces resemble the most effective one yet: print.

Our desire for rich digital content on the go has yielded varieties of fast, precise tools that digitize print at will. We have more software options to make online text (often lost in graphical enhancements and ads) that look and feel like paper. Attempts to incorporate 'digital' elements in print have also generated various hybrids, such as POD (print-on-demand) files that can be updated every second. Digital and print, while two different worlds, are in no way mutually exclusive; they attract, repulse, and sometimes complement each other. Nevertheless our senses are still not trained for hypertexts and hybrids. Lost in too much information, we are distracted by the ability to search ad infinitum, floating in a limbo of minimal concentration. The finite space of a book becomes reassuring with its limits, its focus on un-linkable topics.

If the digital expands our possibilities and access to content, print is still the preferred medium for preservation. The 'convergence' of different media into a paradise ruled by some omnipotent digital god resounds once more like empty propaganda. The ruling classic interfaces operate alongside digitally specific platforms in a desperate attempt to establish a digital standard for print, as was accomplished for music and video. Once established, this standard will likely escalate our taste for and consumption of editorial products, with unpredictable social consequences. But print will not disappear. On the contrary, whether cheap last-minute up-to-date printouts or more expensive, limited editions, the printed medium is simply mutating as a physically enjoyable form and a future luxury: consume without a screen.

Alessandro Ludovico is a media critic, editor-in-chief of Neural magazine, and founder of Mag.net (Electronic Cultural Publishers organization).

37. The Networked Culture Machine – Peter Lunenfeld

The growth of blogs, Twitter, and Facebook considered in tandem with Tumblr and other social softwares that enable posting and tagging accounts, creates an environment of 'continuous partial production.' As ninety-nine percent of everything ever made is either purely for personal consumption, largely forgettable, or just plain junk, continuous partial production is not a huge problem. What does become problematic is when the new affordances make the old content untenable in the emerging environments.

Acknowledging that there are losses that follow every gain in technological capacity is not the same as blindly following the reporting cycle. The key issue is that our twenty-first-century cultural machines lead to a previously unimaginable level of object differentiation and information richness. The networked culture machine’s combination of embedded technology and just-in-time production make possible a novel hybrid intellectuality. Text can be linked to graphics, photos, and moving images in fluid ways impossible a generation ago. The combinatory possibilities of alphanumeric texts, still and moving images, aural components from music to spoken word, and even contextual environmental embedding, all of these simulations of other media offer a huge set of affordances for both the creation and reception of meaning. The sheer density of information and materiality of the contemporary moment is unrivaled in history.

Peter Lunenfeld, Professor in the Design Media Arts Department at UCLA. He is the creator and editorial director of the MIT Press Mediawork project.

This text is adapted from The Secret War Between Downloading and Uploading: Tales of the Computer as Culture Machine, MIT Press, 2011.

38. From Noun to Verb – Ellen Lupton

Over forty years ago, the author was brutally slain in the streets of Paris . It was 1968. The times were dark; the turtlenecks were darker. Young people stormed the gates of the academy and upended the author’s role as originator and legislator of meaning. Roland Barthes, Michel Foucault, and Jacques Derrida pissed proudly into burning heaps of doctoral dissertations that had once claimed to ground the true meaning of written texts in the inner lives of writers. The author was dead; the reader was born. The new generation exposed the text as an open web of connections whose meaning lay at the mercy of history and context, reception, and appropriation.

What status does 'the author' and 'the reader' hold today? The vocabulary of SMS has upgraded 'text' from noun (inert object) to verb (electrified action). The telephone, invented to deliver the living human voice, is now used for writing more than talking. Along the way, text lapsed into the informality of speech, entering an age of stunning laxity.

Algorithms have become authors, too. Welcome to the world of 'black hat' search engine optimization, which uses automatically generated content to trick Google into sending extra clicks to dubious websites. Phrases like 'cloaking', 'auto blogging', and 'content farming' are part of a new wild west of un-authored content. One piece of software translates texts from English into German and then back into English, scrambling the vocabulary and grammar of the input to ensure a seemingly original output, immune to accusations of plagiarism. Behold the rebirth of the author.

And what has become of 'the reader'? Digital display technologies have transformed readers into hardware/software constructs designed to display, filter, push, feed, and aggregate content. Screen readers turn text into speech. Tablet devices host apps and files hewn from an astonishing array of file formats, competing for survival in a jungle teeming with combative standards.

Today’s 'author' and 'reader' encompass countless digital products and interfaces as well as human producers and consumers of the word. Designers are grasping the opportunity to aggregate content in critical and creative ways or to offer people better ways to navigate, annotate, and filter the digital word. New tools for writers help people compose text in more focused environments or to arrange ideas with both freedom and oversight. Web templates and print-on-demand services have broadened access to the tools of design and publishing. The author may have died, but his ashes were strewn upon the oceans of digital connectivity, equipping vast populations to broadcast ideas through the indelible scrim of the alphabet.

Ellen Lupton is curator at Cooper-Hewitt, National Design Museum in NYC and director of the Graphic Design MFA at MICA, Baltimore .

39. The Role of the Hardware – Anne Mangen

These are challenging times for reading research. For a long time, we have felt comfortable with developing theories of reading and models of reading comprehension mainly based on the verbal, linear, printed text. With digital technologies, however, reading has diffused to a virtually limitless variety of processes and practices with an equally endless variety of texts. How and to what extent are existing theories and models of reading able to explain what’s going on when we read the kinds of dynamic, interactive, ephemeral texts that appear and disappear in an instant, as in instant messaging and Twitter? The simple answer is that they cannot, at least not without a considerable amount of modification and limitation. Another challenge, hitherto unforeseen and hence largely neglected, is the role of the reading device itself – e.g. the bound book, the computer screen, or the reading tablet. We handle and manipulate the devices differently, for instance in navigating through a document. Hence, in order to accommodate adequately contemporary and future reading practices, reading should perhaps be reconceptualized as a multisensory engagement with a display of static and dynamic configurations, implemented in a device with particular sensorimotor, ergonomic, affordances which in different ways interact with perceptual and cognitive processes at play. As simple as that.

Anne Mangen is a reading specialist at the National Centre for Reading Research and Education at Stavanger University in Norway .

40. From Reading to Pattern Recognition – Lev Manovich

The emergence of social media creates a radically new opportunity to study cultural processes and dynamics. For the first time, we can follow the imagination of hundreds of millions of people – the images and videos they create and comment on, the conversations they are engaged in, the opinions, ideas, and feelings they express.

Until now, the study of the social and the cultural (individual beings, individual artefacts, and larger groups of people/artefacts) relied on two types of data: 'shallow data' about many (statistics, sociology) and 'deep data' about a few (psychology, psychoanalysis, anthropology, art history; methods such as 'thick description' and 'close reading'). However, the rise of social media along with the computational tools that can process massive amounts of data makes a fundamentally new approach for the study of human beings and society possible. We no longer have to choose between data size and data depth. Rather than having to generalize from small samples or rely on our intuition, we can study exact cultural patterns formed by millions of cultural texts. In other words, the detailed knowledge and insights, which before could only be reached about a few texts, can now be obtained about massive collections of these texts.

In 2007, Bruno Latour summarized these developments as follows: 'The precise forces that mould our subjectivities and the precise characters that furnish our imaginations are all open to inquiries by the social sciences. It is as if the inner workings of private worlds have been pried open because their inputs and outputs have become thoroughly traceable.' (Bruno Latour, 'Beware, your imagination leaves digital traces', Times Higher Education Supplement, April 6, 2007.)

But how do you 'read' through billions of Twitter posts, blogs, Flickr photos, or YouTube videos in practice? That is, how do you read for patterns?

Today people use a variety of software tools to select the content of interest to them from this massive and constantly expanding universe of cultural texts and conversations. These tools include search engines, RSS feeds, and recommendation systems. But while these tools can help you to find what to read, they do not show the larger patterns across this universe.

Computer scientists and media companies use a different set of tools and techniques that allow for the detailed study of such patterns. They employ statistical data analysis, data mining, information visualization, and visual analytics. They also have access to substantial computational resources needed to analyse massive data sets. For example, many companies use 'sentiment analysis' to study the feelings which people express about their products in blog posts. Recent publications in computer science investigated how information spreads on Twitter (data: 100 million tweets), what qualities are shared by most favoured photos on Flickr (data: 2.2 million photos), and what geotagged Flickr photos tell us about people’s attention (data: 35 million photos).

What if everybody had access to such techniques? At present, this requires knowledge of advanced topics in computer science and statistics. However, with the right tools, anybody should be able to at least explore large image collections and notice interesting patterns. At Software Studies Initiative (softwarestudies.com), we have been developing such software tools, and testing them on sets of different types of cultural images ranging from all 4535 covers of Time magazine (1923-2009) to one million manga pages. Currently we are using these tools to study video remixes on YouTube, images from deviantart.com, and spatial patterns in Second Life. We plan to release all tools as open source shortly.

Lev Manovich is an author of new media books and director of the Software Studies Initiative at CALIT2.

41. Reading ‘For the Sake of It’ – Luna Maurer

The longer I think about what reading actually means to me, the more insoluble situations I encounter. Everything I do daily – communicating via email, research, or production for work – means that I absorb a lot of text and information, but I do not connect that to the concept of ‘reading’. And so I read a lot during the day, just like everybody else, everything that arrives via our countless digital networks: browsing, scanning, searches on Google or Wikipedia. These are pieces of information, texts, or images that are consumed. Not only in the digital field, but also on the city roads. I consider all this as ‘knowledge gathering’ or ‘absorbing information’ – and it doesn’t really matter whether it is text or image.

The concept of reading ‘for the sake of it’ is different. It’s about surrendering yourself in the world of words. That means that language becomes very important. Part of the story is already contained in the way in which something is formulated. Formulating is designing with words. And just as we wish to evoke a message with a visual design, a writer can create an extra dimension with language. Designing with words contains a character, ambiance, or touch of magic that is lost in the ‘fast’ streams of information. If you surrender yourself to reading, you find peace inside, time is absent, a new world is created.

To explain yourself in words and sentences costs time. It is without aim and seems more like a journey. It’s not about absorbing information as quickly as possible, but about expanding your mind with thoughts and words. This form of reading is also an emotional enrichment. Peter Bieri, the language philosopher, writes: ‘An educated person knows how to read books in such a way that they change him… that after reading, he is different than he was before.’*

It is easier to read if you shut yourself away. That is why, for me, a traditional book has always been until now the only way to read ‘for the sake of it’. Then there are no options for switching – to other textual sources or additional contextual information. A sentence must carry enough in itself.

The seclusion inherent in a book (although thought of as a limitation) is crucial for reading. The challenge is in creating space in a ‘connected’ world where you are completely limited and can experience an enrichment by language instead of the absorption of information. How you can work with text and typography in the digital domain is still an underexposed area; a way which does not present reading for consumption or for information, but where words and their meaning are placed in a timeless area of tension, so that it becomes a new way of reading ‘for the sake of it’.

Luna Maurer is a designer under the name Poly-Luna and she is part of the Conditonal Design Collective.

'Wie wäre es, gebildet zu sein?', Festrede by Prof. Dr. Peter Bieri, 2005.

42. The Matrix: Three Subjective and Intuitively Selected Pointers for Building Blocks for The Script in Which We Live – Geert Mul

The experience of reality is mediated by a script. This script is the grammatical equivalent of a placebo: a form that channels the content/meaning/energy, but alone is nothing more than a formal structure. In the daily experience, the form (the script) can be exchanged for what it represents, that is its strength. Each culture has its own script. Culture is creating a script. A script is always dynamic and subject to change. Reflections on older versions are interesting for obtaining insight into the entity of the medium ‘script’, but political suggestions to reintroduce and reuse older versions of the script or to freeze the current version are, I think, rather stupid.

Pointer 1: Aristotle’s Poetics, 335 BC

Before the Christian God there was, remarkably enough, Aristotle (335 BC). The script that Aristotle created can hardly be overestimated. We (the western culture) have, in the subsequent 2000 years, rarely succeeded in reading or seeing outside this script. Furthermore, all possible media in this script (text, image, and music) are subject to one coordinated structure. The western history of art (of literature, theatre, film, to generative/interactive art) can do nothing other than work according to the principles of Aristotle’s Poetics or deviate from them, but as reference, the Poetics are never absent. All Hollywood films still closely follow the Aristotle script.

About Aristotle’s Poetics: 'The claim that tragedy makes on universality should (…) be seen as the necessity of a logical construction, without the plot becoming predictable. The real tragedy writer must construct the plot in such a way that the dénouement, the discharge of the accumulated energy, is completely unexpected. The structure of this plot should satisfy strict rules since only then can the aspired tension be brought to a high point in order, in a completely perfect tragedy, to be closed in a moment of catharsis. This catharsis must be seen as a release of the accumulated emotions.’*

Pointer 2: John’s ‘In the beginning’, c. 100 AD

In the Christian culture, The Word is elevated to the medium in which the complete world and non-world must be scripted. Writers often have the inclination to overvalue The Word, and since the Bible is a written notation of a culture that, until then, had been communicated orally, it is not remarkable that The Word is made divine. The Image has been condemned in part of the Christian culture to the area of idolatry, as an impure representation of ‘the truth’, a Platonic view of imagination. But if you read the following passage from John from the context of The Script, then the text seems to confirm that no reality and no world can exist without script (The Word). The script is everything: the script is God.

‘In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made.’ (John 1, 1-3)

Pointer 3: Jorge Luis Borges' 'The Library of Babel ', 1946

In 1946 the poet and author Jorge Louis Borges wrote a short story: 'The Library of Babel'. The story is about an infinite library in which an infinite number of bookcases are filled with an infinite number of books that are made up of all possible combinations of the letters of the alphabet, the full stop, comma, and space. The consequence of this is that all the books that have ever been written and all the books that shall ever be written can be found in this library. This story forms a wonderful synthesis of text, image, and informatics and is almost a prophetic announcement of the digital information culture that, 47 years later, would grow exponentially with the arrival of the first graphic Internet browser (Mosaic 1993). Borges sketches a world in which acquiring knowledge is no longer the problem of gaining access to information (that is available freely everywhere in the infinite library and on the Internet), acquiring knowledge is mainly a problem of recombining in the right way and filtering out the excessive supply of information.

The world is a script and if you want to change the world, you must change the script. And that is why all great art is political.

Geert Mul is a media artist and VJ pioneer.

Stofvorm (philosophical online magazine) Ferrari, G. R. F., 'Aristotle’s Literary Aesthetics' in: Phronesis XLIV/3, 1999, pp. 181-198.

43. Horses Are Fine So Are Books* – Arjen Mulder

In the ‘thirties, Marshall McLuhan read all the writings of the Church Fathers in Latin and all the great books of the Western world in their original language before he thought it proper to declare in a number of blunt slogans that the era of the book was over and the electronic era would definitely come into being. In the new media, people would no longer read linearly – from front to back – but a whole culture would be simultaneously conjured up and gone through, something of which James Joyce’s Finnigans Wake (1939) was the precursor. Yet the book still exists and will continue to exist for a long time to come, and not only as content for the new medium e-reader or other apps. Even McLuhan is only read because his texts are published as books. As a closed medium, the book offers several advantages that the open, electronically-based and digitally encoded text does not have. Certainly, the space in which the reader can enter comments is limited to the margins and the end paper. Certainly, the font and size are given, although these can be manipulated with reading spectacles and magnifying glasses. Certainly, the index is not a fast search engine. And indeed, a sequence is offered, although nobody is obliged to follow it. McLuhan always first read page 69 of a new book, to decide whether he would go through the rest (he could read very quickly). But what makes a book a unique carrier for knowledge and experience is that the form of prescribed beginning, middle, and end forces that which is offered into a structure that expresses more than separate sentences, paragraphs, and chapters could articulate. Such a structure does not so much keep the text together, but rather gives the reader the space to develop, fantasize, or extrapolate a unique world of experience between the sentences, which comes to life in the reader’s activated power of imagination and therefore is also stored in his living memory. Through that structure, we can remember what was in a book we read ten years ago, but not what was in the newspapers or circulating on the Internet at the time. The structure creates the continuity that enable the reader to set aside the book and to pick it up again a few days later and to continue reading without first having to have the whole story or the whole line of reasoning explained again. And because of this, the structure of one book can be part of much larger structures, running from your life as a development and travel adventure demarcated by books to the world literature as a whole or the realization of being part of a human history that, with all respect, is very short compared with the greater history and that greater process in which we are but a link. Thanks to its linearity, a book contains time; that is why people keep books in a special designed cupboard: time past (read books) and time that still awaits, as a promise (a book that has still to be read). A book doesn’t swallow time, as practically all electronic media do; it makes time, it is a time machine.

Arjen Mulder is a media theorist, writer, and editor for V2_Publishing and of De Gids.

Marshall McLuhan, Counterblast, Rapp amp; Whiting Limited, Londen 1970.

44. Shapes – Caroline Nevejan

Clutter

In the summer of my 26th year I completely lost the capacity to read. I had hit my head badly and a severe concussion made me instantly illiterate. As I slowly walked the streets through the heart of Amsterdam in a large hat, I was surprised at how streets appeared to be full of text; I had never realized this before. They were full of cluttered signs randomly organized and blocking the buildings from view. Why do people need so much text? Why do we put it everywhere, as if nothing can be left without a mark?

Blur

After a few days the illiteracy did not disappear and I realized I would have to learn how to read again. But I could not see the shape of signs, I did not recognize any letter. So I started to do Tangram, the game in which you make different shapes with the same 7 pieces. On and off I would try to make shapes and make the same shape again. Slowly I improved. After about a week I opened a Donald Duck magazine. First the exclamations opened up and bit by bit more letters and even words. It was a strange experience that after another week I could read Donald Duck, but at the same time the newspaper still remained a blur. I remembered this experience from when I was a child: learning to read, but not being able to read ‘grown up’ things. Apparently when you cannot handle a more complex level of the same thing, it goes back to the state of blur.

Looking through

So after Donald Duck I went into the women’s magazines and by the time I could read those (advertising especially was fun in the beginning) slowly the newspaper opened up. By now I was training several hours a day and I could read faster and faster. I was immersed in trying to make sense of more blur and more blur, puzzled by how my brain was adapting in this exponential manner. After 4 weeks I even read complex French and German texts that I could hardly read before. My focus and training on ‘looking through shapes’ had a deep impact on my understanding.

Opening up

The experience of letters ‘opening up’ is strange. One has to be able to recognize the shape to be able to read the words. But once reading, you don’t see the shape anymore, only words and meaning surface. Learning to read seemed to be learning to look through shapes and not at shapes. Peripheral attention registers the shapes, but words, sounds, and meaning emerge from behind and through the shapes. Letters are like the mise-en-scène of language, setting the stage for the theatre of mediated communication. Only when you grab the mise-en-scène do words acquire meaning and communication flows.

Centre Stage

Letters opening up requires me to move my attention into the place where letters are located. On the many devices connecting to the Internet, however, letters pass by in instantaneous configurations of a never ending mise-en-scène. I am put centre stage, where mobile letter carriers embrace my body with their bliebs and sounds and colour my personal environment. No looking through is required here; opening up one’s self is the only way in or out. All is here. What is it that we do not look at now?

Caroline Nevejan is a researcher and designer focusing on the implications of technology on society.

45. Achievement Unlocked! – David B. Nieborg

It is a question that keeps recurring among game critics. What if games had the same social status as literature? A gamer can search through the supplements of the Dutch quality newspapers and although there is well-wrought literary criticism, there is remarkably little intellectual reflection about games. And that is a pity for fervent readers and hardcore gamers have a lot to tell each other.

There is a world to be gained in the way in which stories are told in the average blockbuster game, such as the popular first-person shooter games Call of Duty, Medal of Honor, or Halo. The stories in these games can be summarized in one sentence and act as an excuse to paste a series of explosions and game locations one after another. There is seldom any narrative depth. Yet these games are played a lot. In fact, it is probable that many young gamers gain greater insight into modern warfare through digital games, than through books about the war in Fallujah, Baghdad , or the Korengal Valley .

The how (they fight) question is answered rather precisely by game designers. The why question is seldom addressed. Even though the interactive character of games can present the player with moral dilemmas in a different and more direct way than in books. In a war game, the question ‘What would you have done?’ is translated into ‘What do you do?’ Actually, authors in particular can help create believable characters, ambiguous choices, and applying many shades of grey.

Conversely, game makers can help tempt gamers to dive into war books. For games are not played for no reason. Before, during, and after the game, you constantly receive feedback from the game about how good you have been. Achievement unlocked then appears in the television picture. Such virtual medals can then be seen by all gaming friends.

Structurally speaking, there is nothing to prevent publishers and writers of books from adding such game elements to the book. Perhaps not in its paper form, but the average e-reader, tablet, or digital bookshelf is powerful and networked enough to add so-called ‘paratextual’ elements to the book. What if you could become better in reading books and could share that with the whole world?

David B. Nieborg is researcher and teacher at the University of Amsterdam and Utrecht with a focus on online participation and gaming culture.

46. U-turn – Kali Nikitas

Alternative paths towards reading to achieve maximum knowledge, in the shortest period of time, with approval from peers on content consumed and delivery method, tackling any insecurity about missed information or simply not being smart enough, not knowing how to manage time, racing to consume material that will make you more civic, a better conversationalist, a humanitarian, a braggart, fighting the fear of memory loss, and sneaking away into the corners of texts on lady gaga, fashion updates when the nagging continues pulling you back to world news even though you can’t stand the misfortunes of others and your only concern is 'do I really' or rather 'can I really take the time to enjoy the comics?'

Kali Nikitas is the Chair of MFA Graphic Design + Communication Arts of the Otis College of Art and Design in Los Angeles .

47. The Epitaph or Writing Beyond the Grave – Henk Oosterling

We browse a lot. What used to be written in thick books hidden away in shadowy libraries and which could only be consulted after negotiating a lot of red tape is now available virtually, fully illuminated, for everybody, at any moment. With a single click of the mouse or a gentle stroke of the touch screen, thousands of hits are compiled in a fraction of a second. At the end of the twentieth century, reading was given back, unnoticed and unintentionally, its original significance: collecting by hand. This urge for collecting still echoes in the old Dutch expression ‘aren lezen’ – reading the are. After harvesting, the farmers allowed the crowd of poor creatures who were looking on in hunger to collect the broken, discarded corn stalks.

We are collectors when we read. Not collectors of ideas, but of material symbols. The blind are the most sensitive readers. More even than the are readers, they read with the tips of their fingers. From within their dark universe, they inspect dexterously every pleat, groove, dent, or bump in the material. They stroke graphemes: symbols that are engraved in the world, such as the spoils on the hunter’s stake, to reverse the volatility of transitory existence. The grapheme offers resistance to oblivion. That is why the world’s graphic design is, in a literal sense, the material basis for a script culture. The grapheme is a grave in which the past is buried. But paradoxically, this epitaph gives eternal life to all that is past.

The reader is a laser. The seer touches the material with his eyes. First his eye flash back and forth across the medium on which the symbols string together meaninglessly. But unlike the illiterate person who, searching in panic for meaning like a Dutch tourist lost in China or Libya , only gathers senseless symbols, the reader sees meaning at the same time that he scans. The reader reads the world. Collecting is one of the meanings of the Ancient Greek legein that also means ‘reading’. Logos is derived from this. In logic, collecting becomes calculating. In science, calculating becomes, via registering, chronicling. Counting becomes recounting. Sciences arise from the urge to manage in rulers thirsting for power, the coquetry of megalomaniac priests, and the urge to collect of inquisitive world travellers. Through this combination, every form of systematic collecting eventually changes into an authoritarian -logy: astrology, archaeology, psychology, neurology. Knowledge is power. World is truth.

With the World Wide Web, we are back to the beginning and yet far past it. The circle closes. Data is meaningless and information contains no truth. Information is friction-less. WWW is like a sixteenth-century collection of knick-knacks. But through cunning communication technology, an ICTheological message is given: somewhere there is a resistance-less, eternal world. A world in which each fact is itself in a virtual current event where everything is possible. The world of pure potentiality is not made up of atoms packed together into matter. They punctually unite in a brightly lit, shimmering 1-dimensionality that is created by double passes between infotomes. We are beyond the depth and with it the epitaph. On the touch screen we stroke, without meeting resistance, as if reaching for Michelangelo’s The Creation on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, the foundation of our existence.

Henk Oosterling is a philosopher, and associate professor at Erasmus University Rotterdam.

48 Jumping Frames – David Ottina

.

My experience of reading is dominated by the experience of browsing the web. I meander, dipping into conversations then jumping out to essays, sometimes settling into books. Yet ultimately it is a linear way of reading and although it may branch, the path I follow is only visible to me from ground level. I think this is changing though.

Every word that travels through the Internet is parsed and stored. Every touch sensed and recorded. Every connection routed and logged. We are identified and located. Our meanings and moods are derived and noted. Profiles are built. Our relationships are graphed and analyzed. Histories are compiled. As we read, so we are read.

The question is what sorts of texts are being written with these traces? Who are their authors? Who are their readers? And how are they being read?

We can think of the authors of these computed texts as the people who write the algorithms that set the conditions of narrative possibility. Rather than writing the stories themselves, they simply create the frames in which stories can occur. The readers are the ones who extract the narratives from this multidimensional space to create a coherent story. The creative role of the reader has of course been theorized, but for these sorts of texts, it's an imperative. The reader comes to the foreground while authorship recedes into the shadows, a purely technical function.

These texts are read in the hopes of monetizing our every communication, of securing a perpetual rent on culture. As long as the texts are created for exploitation and control, it seems unlikely they will lead to new understandings of ourselves. In this context, the social can only be cast in the image of the individual, like the aggregate figure in the frontispiece of Leviathan.

However, algorithmic authorship and creative readership can be put to other uses. What interests me is the potential of multidimensional texts. The ability to read/see a text through multiple contexts at once. The chance to try out different frames. The opportunity to see discourses from a perspective other than ground level. Such a thing is difficult to envision, but it can be analogized to the current media implosion/genre explosion.

Digitization undoes the materiality separating media, collapsing them into one, multifaceted medium. This, in turn, erodes the barriers under which genres have developed. All of a sudden we are free to mix genres, causing an explosion of possibilities.

Through the same kind of move, barriers between texts/readers can also be eroded. Of course we can and do mix contexts and jump frames with texts already, but the process is laborious and difficult. This is compounded by the fact that our discursive traditions make transcending disciplines near impossible. Computational media have the potential to make such frame jumping easier, to become a normal part of reading.

What would such networked texts look like if not framed by the conditions of capital, but by free and open cultural production? One certain outcome would be the massive proliferation of frames that flow from the diversity that openness invites. Might we see another image of ourselves in this process, not as an aggregation of individuals but as a social entity?

David Ottina is an interaction designer, free culture advocate, and a co-founder of Open Humanities Press.

49. Pictures and Words – Peter Pontiac

Asked to share his or her views on reading, no serious comic strip artist can ignore the bad reputation comic art (or 'sequential art' as Will 'The Spirit' Eisner preferred to call it) appeared to have and still does: it spoils young readers and makes them unqualified for reading true literature.

In the fifties Dr. Fredric Wertham proposed a total ban on comics in his book Seduction of the innocent. A Dr. Schückler claimed that comics were 'the Esperanto of the illiterate'. And to this day the comic book is generally deemed the defective cousin of the pictureless novel. Pictures, however successful in telling a story, are simply considered inferior to words.

Neither the 'Classics Illustrated' comic series that started in 1957 with its boasting motto 'Lees feestelijk, groei geestelijk' ('When reading pleases, knowledge increases'), featuring stories by Shakespeare, Verne, Homer, et al (not always drawn by the most inspired artist, I'm afraid), nor the fashionable new label 'graphic novel' (also coined by Eisner) have yet changed this arrogant view.

Presumably 'word art' is seen as superior to 'picture art' because a writer, simply by using well-put phrases, provokes the reader's imagination to breathe life into a story and its characters, whereas the drawing storyteller shortchanges the reader, leaving less elements to the imagination. According to this way of thinking, film should have even less value than comic art, as film is one of many art forms that use more than just words to touch the beholder – art's core business after all.

(By the way, the fact can't be denied that those who cherish the Word and disdain the Picture find themselves in the company of bad-ass bearded bigots…)

But as long as the reader is moved, how this is achieved shouldn't be of consequence. Pictures and words are simply equal in their storytelling skills. A picture paints a thousand words, so they say, but – frankly – one word might just as well paint a thousand pictures. One thing though is certain: only a pitiful blind man wouldn't agree with the conclusion that a novel is a comic without pictures!

Peter Pontiac is a comic strip artist.

50. The Grammar of Images – Ine Poppe

When I was asked to write something about ‘the future of reading’, I googled to see what has already been published about this subject and what claims have been made. You could think up most of what I found in an afternoon.

A number of articles claimed that we were rushing headlong into an image culture and that the reading culture was disappearing or at least subject to intense change. The latter is certainly true. But language is still the spindle of our thinking. Our image culture is based on language, but now that language directs ones and zeros (just look at the code, commands, and software that serve as the basis of the web).

But image is also a culture-linked language that you have to master, and this is shown by Werner Herzog in his 1969 documentary about the Flying Doctors. The doctors who Herzog follows in East Africa use pictures to teach the isolated population about vaccination and malaria. Large boards show a greatly magnified mosquito, and also a man, a woman, and a child. Herzog hangs up a number of these prints, and he hangs up one of them upside down. Next, Herzog asks the Africans one by one which print is upside down. Nobody is able to point out the correct print: nobody is capable, in fact, of ‘reading’ the picture. When Herzog asks them to point out a picture of a man, they do not understand that the black line on the paper is a representation (and a condensed one at that) of a human. After all, a human is much taller than on the picture and doesn’t fit on a board that’s just a couple of feet high, and we aren’t made up of a line. The same applies to the magnified mosquito. Is that a small creature? In villages with some schooling, things are better; people there have learned to interpret pictures.

Reading image language is linked to culture: you need schooling, practice, and explanation. Reading written language requires more effort and a longer learning process; writing is abstract and complex. Through globalization, we have access to several image languages, and some are more dominant than others. Our current image language develops extremely rapidly, is becoming in a certain sense more complex, and requires knowledge about the ‘way of reading’: think of parallel editing and fast transitions in feature films. Virtually always, there are written sources at the foundation of the image: a story, a scenario, a plan for the structure of a web project, or design. That is why it is important that image makers learn to enjoy reading and writing; become fully aware of the cultural links and development of image languages. How pictures are read.

William Burroughs wrote an essay in which he claimed that written language existed before language was spoken. An amusing thought experiment that arises from the idea that it is not possible to think without a language. Much has been written and philosophized about this. I would, as an extension of this, suggest that without intensive reading and writing, image language has no future.

Ine Poppe is an artist and journalist with a special interest in digital culture, technology, and art.

51 .The Many Readers in My Body – Emilie Randoe

My father was a passionate typographer who, during his time at the academy, managed to pick up an antique English printing press and, during his life, collected a complete print shop. He taught us the basic principles of the art of printing. All three of us, because then we would at least be able to print a newspaper should there be on-going problems in the future with power cuts. After his death, I kept the mini-printing shop together. A newspaper isn’t really possible, but a daily pamphlet should be all right. And I’ve got enough ink to last me at least 150 years – all of superior German überkwalität.

My mother grew up in a period when children were strictly discouraged from reading comic books. As pedagogue herself, she felt that it really didn’t matter how we absorbed information or knowledge, as long as we learned something and did something with it. Thanks to her, when I was a young grammar school pupil, I collected all the Asterix and Obelix albums – in Latin. Nowadays, I can’t read them any more, but they still stand in a row in my bookcase.

People in my circle know me as somebody who is pretty smart about applications of new media and their carriers. But since the appearance of the iPad, I doubt whether I can still justify this. You see, I don’t own one and every time I go into the shop to buy one, I’m struck with doubt. If I were a designer, photographer, or model, I’d get one at once. But as change manager, I don’t see the added value, except that it’s a bit of a conversation piece when you get one. For the time being, that is, because at every congress I attend, the consultants wander round with their iPads under their arm. But every time I am just about to buy one, I simply can’t come up with the answer to what the iPad adds to my MacBook and iPhone.

So this is the context in which I ponder the future of reading. A confrontational question. I have kept track of my reading behaviour during the past few weeks and what do you know: for real reading, simply give me a book made of real paper. I can scribble in the margin, stick mini post-its at the important passages, and, very important, I can see how far I am and whether I have to hurry up – for a book I really want to finish – or actually slow down – because some books you never want to end. So for a week in Barcelona , I stuffed my bag with books which, naturally, I took home practically unread. The pile on my bedside table gave me a comforting feeling when I turned out the reading lamp at night. And how enjoyable it was – when I got back home – to sit at the table after dinner with my beloved reading the newspaper, tearing out articles, and passing sections to each other. The first thing I read is that my favourite newspaper is losing two hundred readers per week.

So I am one of the last of the Mohicans. Because in that very same Barcelona , my sixteen-year-old daughter explained to me how she saw the future of reading. She’s wrestling at the moment with the mandatory book list. She reads quite a bit, but few titles on the book list interest her. But fortunately that’s not a problem, she explains cheerfully, for you simply watch the film and download the summary from somewhere.

In Barcelona , the iPad once again pursued us. There we were, fiddling with our paper guidebook and the fold out metro map, and we see those clever boys – no clever girls, strangely enough – who really do have everything about the metro within hand’s reach on the iPad: the metro map, the information from the tourist guides, the newspaper from home, the latest news on Facebook. In the cafés you see that the iPad really does make sure that reading – consuming – goes hand in hand with writing – producing. And all that takes place in much shorter texts than the ones I grew up with and used in my training.

Emilie Randoe is director of Randoe Verandermanagement and founder of the Institute of Interactive Media at the Hogeschool Amsterdam.

52. Arrangements – Bernhard Rieder

Having been part of collections, libraries, and catalogues for centuries, the book is increasingly embedded into digital databases of various kinds. As a data object it is not only an expression of cultural ingenuity, but also an arrangement of words, sentences, and paragraphs that can be counted and processed in innumerable ways. By comparing word frequency distributions, degrees of similarity between books can be calculated in a heartbeat; 'modeled' knowledge allows for the extraction of names, places, dates, and more abstract concepts from millions of pages per second; with the help of shopping profiles, customer reviews, and statistical representations of actual reading patterns, extracted from data collected by eBook readers, database companies like Amazon and Google rank, filter, connect, and suggest in real time. These techniques have become part of our routine: they structure the way we find books, decide whether and how to read them, explore their contents. Access to the universe of books now leads more often through an algorithm than through a library door – and the new mediators are mostly private companies that seek to transform the 'computational potential' (Jean-Claude Guédon) of vast book collections into sale and click streams rather than explore the immense opportunities for new ways of knowing. Is it time to put 'data politics' on the agenda?

Bernhard Rieder is an assistant professor for New Media at the Media Studies department at the University of Amsterdam .

53. Desecration of Reading – Paul Rutten

Information consumption, and that includes reading, can in principle take place everywhere. Electronic networks offer information to the farthest corners of the world. Efforts by research institutes and companies are aimed at making information omnipresent; a cloud of permanently available and accessible intelligence. With this, we arrive in the era of unbound information. The marriage between specific information and dedicated media has been finally dissolved through digitization. With digitization, the relationship between printed media and reading has definitely come to an end, we read from walls and coins, and from screens and streets. The current technology development is on the point of final desecration, by digitizing the icon of enlightened culture, the printed book. In this process, reading is stripped of both its status and its form. Some cultural critics see this as a degeneration of culture, while others celebrate it as the final unlocking of information and culture for everybody. The greatest challenge is to provide everybody with access, regardless of the institutional, commercial, and social barriers.

Information consumption, and that includes reading, can in principle take place everywhere. Electronic networks offer information to the farthest corners of the world. Efforts by research institutes and companies are aimed at making information omnipresen

54. Epi-phany Plea for a Counter-culture of Un-reading and Un-writing – Johan Sanctorum

The advance of Internet and the new ‘social networks’ regularly leads to culture-pessimistic deliberations: we shall no longer be capable of understanding texts and making links. But the comprehension of a text is acquired and preconditioned by power relationships. The links are always conventional, and determined by tradition, fashion, or the hype culture. The radical break with the cultural conventions would then consist of un-associating and not making links. That leads to a double counter culture: that of the ‘un-writing’ and the ‘un-reading’.

Today, we find ourselves in an infinite network of images, texts, stories. We are terrorized, partly via the mandatory social intercourse, by the intertext, the communication hysteria, the obsessive neurosis to have to link everything together. The counter movement is that of striking things out.

The new writer escapes from all stories and also decomposes his own stories. He is the absolute amateur or ‘man-without-qualities’. Everything remains one-off, unrecognizable for the outside world, awkward and jagged, in the stage of experimentation. The ultimate boundary is the writer of the unwritten book, that only exists as an intention. The best book is the unwritten book.

The existing scientific, cultural, artistic, or political domains, always working with selection norms and communicative criteria, completely ignore the epiphany – the own interpretation. The Internet is an enormous biotope for this trans-communicative amateurism, that on the other hand possibly contains the germ of a new, non-levelling mass culture. The blog in that sense is not an individual Internet newspaper (that is a typical media-sociological confusion), but rather a diary left laying around which accidentally comes across a reader, who is aware of his indiscretion and the impossibility of decoding. In this way, a new reader also emerges: the ‘surfer’ who appreciates the text as a mystery and thus respects it, as an ‘absent-minded’ passerby.

I like people who read books they don’t understand. I prefer to read books in a language I do not master: sentences, words, symbols that reveal nothing, preferably in a different alphabet, Chinese, Arabic, or Sanskrit. The new reader is an un-reader, an accidental finder of inscriptions that cannot be decoded, which he may momentarily touch but further leaves intact. Everything that presents itself as public, communicable, able to be integrated is then mercilessly exposed. I un-read only a certain type of book, which I suspect were not written in order to be understood. Epiphanies, texts that have never been published, but have appeared, or perhaps not. I respect them as a labyrinth of words that only have a meaning inside the mind of their inventor.

In a technopolis dominated by speed and immediacy, we may wish to create delay, search for mystery, and send messages to an intermediate space that offers comfort to both message and the messenger. Completely on the outskirts of cyberspace, a meeting can take place between the un-writer and the un-reader. Accidental, perhaps. Do we call this a moment of fortune?

Johan Sanctorum is a Flemish columnist, essayist, and philosopher.

55. Savouring Thoughts – Louise Sandhau

I admit it. I’ve stopped reading. Well, not really perhaps. I consume words. That’s not the issue. They come in through my ears, my eyes, and occasionally I have to eat them. Is it age? The age of many media? A bit of both I suspect. And what I do consume – are they morsels to sustain or just to entertain… or soothe?

Sleepless nights and long drives, I listen. Mysteries are for the road, while light-hearted banter is best on the pillow. (I blush at my disclosure.) But in one ear and out the other.

Sustenance it seems still needs to come through the eyes. Something about the shape and space of words. Yes, on a page; materialized into ink-like-ness on flat white rectangles of permanence or it remains reconfigurable bits in my brain – flotsam and jetsam of thoughts that don’t add up.

Give me complex thought elaborated on a folio and I’ll get out my knife and fork, savouring every bit and relish it as I ingest the experience!

And, by the way, did I mention my fear of phones.

Louise Sandhaus is owner of LSD (Louise Sandhaus Design), full-time faculty at CalArts and board member of AIGA.

56. The Stutter in Reading (Call for a New Quality of Reading ) – Niels Schrader

Reading is the process of consuming information. It cannot exist without the action of producing information and the two can simply not be addressed separately. Therefore, to understand how reading will change, we should consider the act of communication in general.

Based on the concept of history, reading and writing unfold into an ever-evolving linear code. As communication habits keep adapting to new lifestyles and technological developments, communicating through and with computers stimulates a new, numerical, structure of information. Here, concepts are displayed as a mosaic of numbers (Latin calculi) rather than a sequence.

The ease of use and the pace of technological developments stimulate the fragmentation of texts. The linearity is being broken up as browsing effectively means navigation through short fragments distributed over multiple accessible sources. Chunks of different style, form, language, or format.

Consequently the future of reading lies in learning how to lay a thread of reasoning between these disconnected fragments. We will have to learn hyperlinking in communication and, eventually, speaking HTML. Otherwise communication will undoubtedly evolve into stuttering. Only those who develop a new quality of reading, will continue to understand the world.

Niels Schrader is founder of Mind Design in Amsterdam and lecturer at the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague .

57. I Read in the Mind – Ray Siemens

I read in the mind. For all the physical locations of reading one might choose (at home, at the office, in the garden), for all the bodily points of interaction (eye, fingers, hands, sometimes the tongue to wet a finger to turn a page), for all the material manifestations of reading devices (scroll, book, letter, napkin even, iPad), and for all the affordance-oriented technological apparatus associated with reading (eyeglasses, candle or light, manuscript marginalia, indexes, wordless, tweets, search screens, and distribution lists, database back-end with pertinent corpora)… For all this, the place of reading ultimately is, for me, in my mind, with reading as a technologically-facilitated, intellectually-centred emotional and physical act, one in which acts of community are established and shared across time and space. The most prominent advances made in reading technologies over time have been pragmatic interventions that ultimately facilitate, serve, and support the ability of the mind to act as a place of reading; we would do best to look in this direction for our next advances in reading-related resources.

Ray Siemens holds the Canada Research Chair in Humanities Computing at the University of Victoria and leads the Electronic Textual Cultures Laboratory (ETCL).

58. Full Circle – Karin Spaink

I used to read whenever and wherever I could. You were only allowed to borrow four books a week from the library – for me, a measly ration. Once I had finished the children’s section, I cheated a bit with the age groups; the lady behind the desk sometimes turned a blind eye to that.

When my parents were out for the evening, I would sit for hours on end on the wc with a book. At least that light wouldn’t betray me when they came home. As soon as they started fiddling with the front door, I hid my book under my pyjamas, sanctimoniously flushed the wc, and pretended to be intoxicated by sleep. In the weekend, when they had a lie-in, I would take book after book from the shelves in the living room. At breakfast, I read the labels on the jam jars.

Later, I would read at least two or three books a week and the greatest attraction about holidays was that you could read even more. When around my thirtieth birthday I was suddenly struck half blind – fortunately only temporarily – my first concern was how I could carry on reading. I considered Braille. When my sight cleared up, I triumphantly read the screaming advertisements and billboards that disfigured public roads.

All around me, in my five by five living room, there are now more than fifty metres of books: almost three walls full. It looks impressive, but I hardly ever read them. Nowadays, I read at most a couple of pages before going to sleep, in order to ease the transition from waking to snoozing. I also seem more and more unable to keep up with the newspapers and magazines to which I subscribe. (I do obsessively read the T-shirts of people I meet.)

It’s the computer. I sit at it day and night, I read myself silly on mails, news groups, forums, blogs, websites, newspapers, wikis, Facebook updates, summaries, and tweets, and naturally all the reactions to that. Internet has turned me into a short-track reader. I would conscientiously keep the longer pieces that I came across on my way for that same later in which I would read all those unread books that had, in the meantime, piled themselves up everywhere.

That continued for years.

Until I saw a Kindle and immediately fell in love. Four days later, Amazon delivered mine, which I immediately stuffed full of books. Longer pieces that I encounter on the Internet are sent, with just a few clicks, to my Kindle, and would you believe it, now I do get round to them. Hours on end on the sofa, in bed, or in the train; during stolen minutes in the smoking breaks, or waiting in the café at the cinema for the film to start – I’m again reading books wherever and whenever I can.

And again – plus ça change – I often read illegally. I exchange as I have always done books with my friends, but that isn’t allowed now that they are digital. I have to break the copy protection on the books I purchased in the Netherlands in order to read them. (Dutch books shops only serve the market for Sony e-readers.)

My Kindle is in a red leather case; as soon as I open it, I have two hundred books at my disposal. There is a reading lamp built into that same case. In bed, in the dark, I read books – and my cats suspect nothing when they come home at night.

Karin Spaink is a writer, columnist, and feminist. She is a free speech advocate and social critic.

59. Books Erik – Spiekermann

Lots of important people have pronounced the book dead. And lots of less important people – the average consumer – believe them because they want to be seen as progressive and on top of the latest trends. Tablets, smartphones, and other gadgets are sexy; printed books are tired.

I disagree. Nothing is sexier for the promotion of knowledge than printed books. The decisive factor is the typographic arrangement in all its depth and detail and adequate production. Books are objects, not surfaces. Badly designed and produced books will quickly be superceded by letters on screen.

A book, however, that has been properly designed in all its parameters, from the format, the paper, the binding, and the other materials to all its complex typographic parameters, offers a physical experience far beyond the mere transfer of facts. 500 years of typographic experience cannot be emulated by a reader’s swipe of a finger. There are only so many ways to set a beautiful, legible and readable page in a given size and format and most readers wouldn’t be able to improve on it.

As long as our brains and eyes have to compensate for technical and typographic defects instead of dedicating all our brainpower to the comprehension of content, we’ll need books. If their design and production have been carefully considered, they can be perfect objects.

Erik Spiekermann is typographer and graphic designer. He is co-founder of MetaDesign design consultancy.

60. The New Orality and the Empty House – Matthew Stadler

There is anxiety about the book, but little about writing. Text flourishes. We read and write everywhere. Recall sitting in a room with a half-dozen friends on laptops, passing messages in chat boxes; or texting a loved one in another room of the house. No more phone calls; in Japan and South Korea per-capita minutes talking on the phone are down almost 300 percent. Never has literacy been so ascendant over orality. Or so it would seem.

Contrarily, bookstores close and sales numbers drop, throwing shadows of doom over the evolving enterprise of the book. People worry and assemble conferences.

In fact, the book is robust and ascendant while literacy threatens to collapse under the weight of a new orality. The New Orality. Digitized and freed from the inertia of the printed page, the written word has become fluid. Just as solid ground liquifies in an earthquake, the written word turns oral within the rhythmic convulsions of digital transmission. Text corrects itself. It is withdrawn, resent, and then doubled. Links burst open; feedback loops chatter; spelling dissolves and is reassembled. Digital transmission is, thus, performative, contextual, social, additive (rather than subordinative), aggregative (rather than analytic), copious, and homeostatic – in Walter Ong’s analysis, oral.

The printed page is static. Like an empty house, the book does not change while you are away. It waits, making meaning only in the strangely private relationship called reading. Digitized text lives and changes constantly, vibrant in its hive mind. Ong, writing thirty years ago, predicted that electronic techonology would hasten a 'secondary orality'. Though he had in mind books-on-tape, rather than digitization, his analysis remarkably predicts the condition we find ourselves in: 'This new orality has striking resemblances to the old in its participatory mystique, its fostering of a communal sense, its concentration on the present moment.'

Paradoxically, the new orality recovers the book as an enduring and meaningful technology by freeing it from a host of awkwardly performed duties. During the age of mechanical reproduction books became home to image culture; their flat pages hosted the illusion of three-dimensional space and were sometimes manipulated to convey action or motion, as in flip-books or the sequential illustrations of comic strips. Their covers became movie stills and their interiors art galleries in which were hung that ultimate expression of the contemporary artist, his photo documentation.

No longer. Now the unfolding capacities of digital transmission will free the printed page from these awkwardly performed duties. As image culture – whatever that is – moves into its spacious new home (digital transmission), it will bed down with its true lover, orality. And literacy will be left to reside comfortably in the flat static pages of the book – home alone, at last. The book lies closed, recumbent and still, waiting for its reader. Who wouldn’t want that?

Matthew Stadler is a writer and editor living in Portland , Oregon . Together with Patricia No he founded Publication Studio.

61. Letter and Spirit – F. Starik

There are two types of people: readers and lookers. And all

just push against doors on which scribbles are scrawled,

everyone does it. The reader will only go into the toilet

after carefully studying which scribble is the man

Which the woman: pictograms are meant for illiterates

and not intended for you, who just wants to know where

to piss. The reader can’t know what the train door is saying

if the picture explains that the door is half open

And the arrows point downwards or do they point upwards,

it’s all over the place. The reader just loves giving

meaning, but never attaches an action, a consequence to what

he has just finished reading. When the reader leaves his flat

he reads all the names on the doors of the other tenants

and also the words on the doormat with the bleeding heart

of the girl on the first floor: ‘You look nice today’.

The looker rings that bell.

F. Starik is a writer, poet, singer, and artist. He is the current city poet laureate of Amsterdam .

62. Social Reading – Bob Stein

Beginning in 2005 The Institute for the Future of the Book began a series of experiments under the rubric of 'networked books.' This was the moment of the blog and we were exploring what would happen if we applied the concept of 'reader comments' to essays and books. Our first attempt, McKenzie Wark's Gamer Theory turned out to be a remarkably lucky choice. The book's structure -numbered paragraphs rather than numbered pages – required my colleagues to come up with an innovative design allowing readers to make comments at the level of the paragraph rather than the page. Their solution to what at the time seemed like a simple graphical UI problem, was to put the comments to the right of each of Wark's paragraphs rather than follow the standard practice of placing them underneath the author's text.

Within a few hours of putting Gamer Theory online, a vibrant discussion emerged in the margins. We realized that moving comments from the bottom to the side, a change that at the time seemed minor, in fact had profound implications. Largely because Wark took a very active role in the unfolding discussion, our understanding at first focused on the ways in which this new format upends the traditional hierarchies of print which place the author on a pedestal and the reader at her adoring feet. With the side-by-side layout of Gamer Theory's text and comments, author and reader were suddenly occupying the same visual space; which in turn shifted their relationship to one of much greater equality. As the days went by it became clear that author and reader were engaged in a collaborative effort to increase their collective understanding.

Later experiments in classrooms and reading groups were just as successful even though no author was involved, leading us to realize we were witnessing much more than a shift in the relationship between author and reader.

The reification of ideas into printed, persistent objects obscures the social aspect of both reading and writing, so much so, that our culture portrays them as among the most solitary of behaviours. This is because the social aspect traditionally takes place outside the pages – around the water cooler, at the dinner table, and on the pages of other publications in the form of reviews or references and bibliographies. In that light, moving texts from page to screen doesn't make them social so much as it allows the social components to come forward and to multiply in value.

And once you've engaged in a social reading experience the value is obvious. Contemporary problems are sufficiently complex that individuals can rarely understand them on their own. More eyes, more minds collaborating on the task of understanding will perhaps yield better, more comprehensive answers.

The difficult thing however about predicting the future of reading is that everything I've said so far presumes that what is being read is an 'n-page' article or essay or an 'n-page', 'n-chapter' book, when realistically, the forms of expression will change dramatically as we learn to exploit the unique affordances of new electronic media. Ideally, the boundaries between reading and writing will become ever more porous as readers take a more active role in the production of knowledge and ideas.

And lest, you think this shift applies only to non-fiction, please consider huge multi-player games such as World of Warcraft as a strand of future-fiction where the author describes a world and the players/readers write the narrative as they play the game.

Our grandchildren will assume that reading with others, i.e. social reading, is the 'natural' way to read. They will be amazed to realize that in our day reading was something one did alone. Reading by one's self will seem as antiquated as silent movies are to us.

Bob Stein is founder and co-director of the Institute for the Future of the Book.

63. Is the Role of Libraries in Reading Innovation Fading? – Michael Stephens, Jan Klerk

Michael Stephens and Jan Klerk share some thoughts about the future of reading and libraries.

Michael, I would like you to consider the following lines: I think reading is the mother of time consuming activities. To understand a book fully you’ll need to read it in private for many hours from start to finish. Of course you can try to understand a text by ‘diagonal’ reading. Compare it to trying to know a Bach cello suite by just listening to part 1, 3, and 6. But you can only fully comprehend a Bach piece in a slow way. Time-consuming activities are under increasing pressure. There are more and more things that come up for distraction: we are living in times where you are constantly challenged to do things you actually don’t want to do. In my personal life this has led to a totally fragmented but dynamic information and media experience spending many small bits of time on different sorts of writing, reading, watching, and listening.

I’ve always loved libraries for the ‘slow’ experience. In a library you can easily forget about time. But times have changed. Last year most of the books, DVDs, and CDs I borrowed from my library remained unread, unseen, unlistened to. Instead I’ve spent an increasing number of hours reading and commenting on various texts on various online screens. Libraries have always been the guardians and perhaps even the personification of time-consuming activities. You could say that libraries therefore may not fit all to well into the Zeitgeist. What would you say Michael about the perspectives of libraries? How will libraries survive when reading, watching, and listening is becoming more and more a digital and social experience by using personal mobile devices?

Jan – I spent much of the morning reading Bilton’s I Live in the Future on my Kindle for a class this weekend – highlighting and sharing interesting passages to my followers on Twitter and Facebook. The potential for reading to become a social act of sharing/commenting and remixing is great. Then, I jumped into YouTube and reviewed a few videos for the class, using the favourite command to save them and share them. Imagine a future where an eBook, a video, audio, et cetera might seamlessly be shared and utilized to educate and entertain. As you note, the solitary concept of reading wanes whilst a media rich experience blooms across multiple channels and networks. These changes will not contribute to the dumbing down of our culture. The opposite is true: media savvy consumers and creators of content will be the renaissance stars of this future scenario.

Sadly, the library playing a strong role in this equation might be fading. I’m writing this the day the news broke in the US about publisher Harper Collins enacting borrowers limits on eBooks through the OverDrive service as well as requesting access to borrower data. This only muddles the waters further for librarians and readers with Kindles, Nooks, mobiles, et cetera. It may mean that the content available via the library may rely more on creators and less on publishers stuck in old models of distribution and economics.

Jan Klerk and Michael Stephens wrote columns together about the future of libraries for the Dutch journal Digitale Bibliotheek.

64. Slow Reading – Carolyn Strauss

By definition, ‘reading’ goes well beyond the grasping of written characters and the realm of ideas they express. Applied to environments, systems, and relationships, ‘reading’ is an act of interpreting, intuiting, even foretelling what may be.

Not surprisingly, today’s fast world has taken its toll on all manner of reading. More ‘connected’ than we’ve ever been, we’re increasingly disengaged from territories of thought, personal experience, and creativity that I believe are essential to ‘reading’ the world accurately and authentically. As the ubiquitous web, messaging, chat, friending, and tweeting force us into a constant state of reacting, we are left little or no time for turning inward, reflecting, losing, and then finding ourselves again to arrive at what we truly think and believe in.

Psychologist/author Guy Claxton warns that while today we have become very good at solving analytical and technological problems, we’ve lost touch with the ‘Slow mind’- the one more suited to addressing ecologies and systems. Two centuries prior, Goethe promoted ‘intuitive imagining’ as a tool of scientific research to reveal relationships and underlying patterns; he believed we should read the world around us not at face value, but in terms of ‘flowing processes.’

Both point to what I call ‘slower ways of knowing’ that can enable an expanded (maybe unexpected) set of ‘readings/interpretations’ of a given situation, place, or relationship. We need both ‘slow reading’ (verb› active process) and ‘slow readings’ (noun› understanding emerging from process) to arrive at information and tools for moving forward in an increasingly complex world.

Carolyn Strauss is founder and director of slowLab (US/NL), a laboratory for Slow design research and creative activism.

65. Cyclops iPad – Dick Tuinder

When we open the classic book, it has the proportions of a landscape. The way that landscape-like format works is not only determined by what we see, but also what we miss as we concentrate on a section of the show. What is outside our immediate field of vision determines our idea of landscapeness more than what we do see. Because it implies that there is something larger than can be immediately observed by our senses.

It is seductive, and perhaps not even nonsense, to imagine that the landscape size of the paper book has influenced the form which literature has assumed over the centuries. That it has given that literature a perspective and stratification which had to be achieved at the time of the clay tablet in totally different ways.

There are more matters connected with the classic book that must have supported subconsciously not only the reader but also the writer in his imagination.

Subtle sensations that make reading a physical experience. Naturally there is the smell of paper and ink. The bonus that is becoming increasingly rare of text set in lead. The fact that a book is not only a carrier of words, but also a unique object. But also the slowly shifting balance from right to left (or from left to right depending on where you live) the more one progresses in the story. A shift in weight that, with increments of a half a gram of paper for each page turned, also propels the reader faster in the direction of the end of the story.

It is also of the utmost importance that the opened book should fall into two halves. The left and right page. Naturally that is a logical consequence of the form of the book, and it would only be that if it were not coincidentally a conceptually flawless visualization of the core of just about all the dramas written down in books. Jekyll amp; Hyde, plus and minus, conscious and subconscious, will and imagination, war and peace.

You ask yourself why a medium that is so well equipped for its task should have to be replaced by something new.

Naturally there are all sorts of practical reasons for the school slate like format of the iPad and its cousins, but the symbolism is too coincidental to ignore. If the paper book should ever disappear then that will not be because the e-reader is a better idea, but because the landscape has lost its significance for the modern reader and his interest is primarily directed at the single upright format of the portrait photograph.

Dick Tuinder is a visual artist, illustrator, writer, and producer of (short) movies.

66. Context Is King; Content Is Queen – Lian van de Wiel

Tablet, eReader, laptop, smartphone. Add to that the information overload from Google, Twitter, and Facebook, combined with the overruling image culture and the trend towards a decline in reading. The changes in the information society take place at a rapid rate. But nevertheless, a number of fixed values and needs are still around. And that is the importance we attach to fine stories, useful information, and valuable knowledge.

The question many publishers pose today is how those stories are going to reach us, how we shall gather information, and how we can best learn. Reading in the old meaning of the world – namely, with a ‘paper book in a quiet place’ – is still one of the methods for doing that. But it is not always the most effective, up-to-date, or appealing way.

Text, image, and sound now exist in all sorts of combinations. From hardcover print books via printing app with sound effects to on-demand animation films. The choice depends on what you want to achieve: stimulating the fantasy, discovering things yourself, or escaping for a moment from reality.

The activities around this content are also influenced by technique and will increasingly be absorbed into the content: reading can become a continuous process of scanning, assessing, sharing, learning, noting, talking, adding, watching, writing, reacting, et cetera.

Content is and remains the basis, but context is going to offer real added value. And whether you obtain that content from paper or from a screen is not the most interesting question… The question is how you, as user in the information wilderness, can find your way to the right content. So it can be rather nice if there is a publisher who builds up such a good contact with you – personally or via an online profile – that they know better even than yourself what you want to read or learn. And then to offer you the appropriate content via the proper medium and at the right moment.

Lian van de Wiel is business consultant with the Dutch educative publisher ThiemeMeulenhoff, and focuses on the influence of digital developments on learning tools.

67. Reading Becomes Looking – Bregtje van der Haak

Recently, a friend (26) told me that when reading a book, her eyes will intuitively drift to the top right-hand corner of the page, as she expects to find a window there with the Google search function. Rather than having to work her way through the whole book, she wants to zoom in on the essentials and she fully expects to be directed there instantly, effortlessly, and free of charge. When standing in front of a bookcase, again she casts a look upwards to the right, eagerly in search of an entry point for the liberating key word to create order in the chaos of book covers and to find the needle in the haystack.

How do we create order in the chaos? How do we find what we need? These questions are crucial in how we will relate to reading in the future. Linear methods of organization, based on text, reading, and alphabet, will lose ground to visual methods based on looking and image recognition. After all, when confronted with ‘massive information’, looking is a faster and more efficient strategy than reading. In addition, looking overcomes the awkward problem of all those different languages.

In the West, reading is by definition linear: if you change the sequence of the letters, the words mean nothing anymore, or something very different. It is a harness and an arrangement along an established pattern one can hardly escape from. If you mix the ingredients of this recipe in the wrong order, the recipe will simply be wrong too.

Looking is more free and therefore faster, more flexible, and more contemporary. When you read an image you can also start at the right-hand side or at the bottom as the ingredients of an image can be mixed in many different ways to get meaning. My son (7) approaches letters and numbers as pictures. While looking at them he combines them into something that makes sense to him.

In China , every word is a picture. With enormous effort, Chinese boys and girls learn by heart thousands of ‘word pictures’ (characters) and the meanings attached to them. There is no alphabet and no fixed link between signs and sounds. You can start reading a Chinese book at the front or back or on the left or right pages. This is changeable and the reader construes structure and meaning from the context.

The Chinese engineer Yunhe Pan is leader of The Million Book Project (CADAL), which aims to digitize a million books and ultimately all books in the world. He uses the term ‘ Data Ocean ’ for the rapidly expanding total amount of information in the world and works on the concept of the ‘Smart Library’: ‘a needs-centered, rather than a books-centered information service’.

Pan thinks that reading will ultimately be too slow to satisfy our informational needs. He calculates that human beings – providing they live to be a hundred and read one book every single day – are able to read 36,500 books during their lifetime. This is simply not enough, says Pan. He predicts that books will become increasingly ‘multi-modal’ and ‘multi-medial’ (integrated with videos, photos, drawings, music, and animations) to accelerate the transfer of knowledge ‘because visuals can sometimes more quickly explain an issue than text’. With the shift towards e-reading, books and digital archives will increasingly include open, dynamic, and informal sources such as construction drawings, web pages, video news, and statistics.

Pan ascertains that considerable progress has been made in recent years concerning computer-driven recognition, translation, and visual comparison of Chinese calligraphy and that this knowledge could presently be applied to navigate more efficiently in the ‘data ocean’. Searching on the basis of pictures rather than words will undoubtedly become more important. Today, my friend still has a search word in mind when she stands in front of a bookcase, but for my son this will probably be a ‘search picture’ flashing through his mind. The time is right for intellectuals and scholars to set aside their fear, dislike, and disdain for pictures and to learn to picture-read and picture-write.

Bregtje van der Haak is a documentary filmmaker, journalist, and writer on contemporary culture.

68. The Library Is As Large As One Half of the Brain – Els van der Plas

‘If an old man dies in Africa , a library disappears’. This is a well-known African proverb, where oral tradition ensures that history and stories survive.

Libraries are rare in many African countries. Illiteracy is high, 39 percent of the population to the south of the Sahara cannot read or write. Stories are told orally. So if an old man dies, a library really does disappear.

In Africa, they have been looking for a solution to this problem for decades; libraries exist (in, for example, Egypt , Senegal , and South Africa ) but are scarce, just like the old wise men. They work hard at combating illiteracy, organize bus libraries that reach people who would otherwise never read or borrow a book, and have started rescue operations for libraries such as those in Sudan and Yemen , where mainly Islamic clerics have ensured that the ancient papyrus rolls have survived and been passed down through the centuries. But the old man is still the best option. You ask him about the history of your family, the stories of other people, and he begins his narration. There are men and women who have made this storytelling their official occupation, generally by passing it on from father to son or from mother to daughter. These are the so-called griots. They have the knowledge because their parents had the knowledge, and they in turn received it from their parents. Repetition is essential here, through the centuries. The knowledge that is managed and imparted by the griots is called jeliya, which means imparting through blood. You are therefore born a griot, with passed down knowledge and stories; it is in your blood, as it were, and therefore in your head.

In Africa , stories are also told through clothing. The Vlisco Dutch Wax fabrics, highly popular in many African countries, tell historical stories through pictures printed on the fabrics about, for example, the release of Nelson Mandela (11 February 1990), the celebration of Independence Day in Ghana (6 March 1967), the relationship between George Bush and Osama Bin laden (two men embracing each other, 2003), or the woman who wants to show with her shawl with lips that her husband is a good lover: ‘Mon mari est capable’ (‘my husband knows what he’s doing’, 1953). Negative stories about husbands are also told: the dissatisfaction of the women about her adulterous husband, or the shawl with birds flying out of cages with the title ‘Si tu sors, je sors’ – ‘If you leave, then I’ll leave as well’. But there is also good advice: a cloth with a crown and hearts tells of a faithful husband (1973). All these stories, historical events, and wise advice are told in pictures like a moving comic strip. The street with the women in colourful fabrics moving gracefully is a visual library, accessible for everybody, including illiterates.

In the West, knowledge has long been strongly linked with the image of the book. Transfer of knowledge has, both literally and figuratively, an enormous volume with clear contours; libraries represent both in content and in image (rows of books) the enlightenment idea about how knowledge can take us further. That image is now drastically changing; the library can be downloaded and can therefore be accessed and read with a little machine. Do you want to know when Boniface was murdered, where your great-great grandfather lived, or what Eline Vere, the book by Couperus who lived in The Hague, is all about, simply google it. Internet has become a true world library, containing everything, and accessible in every language within a fraction of a second.

In Africa , the library is as small as one half of the old man’s brain, enormous because of the interpretation and wisdom of that man, and limited in its reach which goes no farther than the immediate surroundings. In the West, the library is now as small as the iPad or iPhone, with an enormous accessibility. In Africa , the griot, within his collaborating surroundings, live on for a while; the jeliya is directly accessible. They will soon get used to i-information, the mobile telephone is now common property throughout Africa and the best form of communication. That is what you call the law of the handicap of a head start. They will only then truly miss the interpretation and wisdom of the old man.

Els van der Plas is the director of Premsela, Dutch Platform for Design and Fashion.

69. Classic Canon – Rick van der Ploeg

By reading, you find peace, you come into a different world, experience and feel things you would otherwise never dream of. Reading is astonishing and enriching. Nowadays, you can download onto your iPod, iPad, or any other mobile screen from, say, the Gutenberg project, the classics of literature completely free-of-charge. And when you have a spare half hour in the train, in the bath, or wherever, you can allow Kafka, Austin , Mann, Shakespeare, and the other greats to visit you. By allowing the classic canon to have its way with you in these transitory times, you get ever more insight into and understanding for the greats of literature because your frame of reference becomes ever deeper and broader. Never would have thought that reading things that are really worthwhile could become so simple in the Internet age.

Rick van der Ploeg is an economist and politician. From 1998 to 2002 he was Dutch Secretary of State for Culture and Media.

70. Content Economies – Daniel van der Velden

In recent years the economies of offline print and online content have merged as networks invade the book’s former sovereignty. Google Books transforms the currencies of page and chapter, and devices like the Amazon Kindle are increasingly viable alternatives to reading on paper. Interactions between book and Internet were eventually to boost book sales, but are of course supplanting the finite, limited nature of the printed object.

To secure the physical economy of book making, publishers resort to techniques of nostalgia that are at odds with the ideas of high efficiency that made the printing press a groundbreaking invention. Coffee table books now assume gargantuan proportions, rather like furniture or architecture – Sexitecture as one is aptly titled. If the end of print is in sight, these are the dinosaurs: a grotesque species that travels the earth, dramatically illuminating the critical condition of contemporary reading. It is a losing game if you consider a book to be the horse and carriage of the information economy, to be preserved because it is slow, heavy, and expensive.

It is conceivable that books will become dispersed entities, ‘content economies’, of which the physical object constitutes just one aspect. Live events, comments snippets, PDFs, blog postings and discussions, and printed artifacts may operate together in a new coherence. Consumers may purchase the printed book as a centerpiece in the midst of a largely virtual buzz. To design a book may become like the process of coordination required to fine-tune all these online and offline efforts, rather than typesetting pages and creating cover imagery for a paper object.

In 2009, we did an inquiry into the networked space of the book.* We targeted the seminal Manuel Castells volume, The Rise of the Network Society, and looked at ways to rebuild it without actually owning it or getting it from a library. Based on online sources (blogs, Amazon, Google Books, professors posting parts of it as classroom PDFs) and pictures taken with a cell phone in a bookstore, we retrieved about seventy percent of the pages, and collected these in between a cover printed from an enlarged Amazon.com jpeg image. The remaining thirty percent of pages were printed black, ‘informational black holes’. Visualizing the ‘content economy’ of Castell’s classic was a helpful exercise in realizing the extent to which the book, in a network society, gets disembodied from its physical presence.

Daniel van der Velden is a designer, writer, and co-founder of the design studio Metahaven.

‘The Netbook and its Library’ was carried out by Daniel van der Velden (Metahaven), Nina Støttrup Larsen, Femke Herregraven, Henrik van Leeuwen, Rozemarijn Koopmans, and Kees de Klein as part of the project 'The Architecture of Knowledge', initiated by the Netherlands Architecture Institute and the Dutch Library Association, in Rotterdam, 2009.

71. Do Images Also Argue? – Adriaan van der Weel

The screens that dominate our lives demand literacy. How else would we utilize our digital tools, or the social media that have become so important to us? In fact we read and write more than ever before. Yet the primacy of text has passed.

Not only are the texts we produce becoming ever shorter, more importantly our communication is becoming multimodal. The populist expansion of audiovisual media we now witness finds parallels in the 1970s, when offset lithography democratized print production. Cutting and pasting text for offset reproduction, which could even be typewritten, eliminated the expensive investment in cumbersome presses, metal type, and highly skilled typesetters. Offset lithography generated an avalanche of printed matter on culturally and politically ‘marginal’ subjects.

Similarly, anyone can now produce photos and videos, often in preference to textual messages. Just as offset lithography supported-if not fomented-grass-roots movements for social change, the democratization of audio-visual media will prove transformative.

Images can be extremely eloquent, but they do speak differently than texts. If images and sound increasingly merge into the communication stream, what might happen, for example, to sustained discursive prose? Will multimodal communications replace textual argumentation? And if so, how will images argue?

Adriaan van der Weel is Professor of Modern Dutch Book History at Leiden University , and lecturer in Book and Digital Media Studies.

72. Read Me First – Erwin van der Zande

I read more today than ever before. This contradicts the general idea that we are currently reading less and less. And yet it’s true. I watch less TV in the evenings, and mainly read on the Internet. When I watch something on Internet, generally on YouTube, it never lasts long. What’s more, with the arrival of smart phones and tablets, any moment that previously would have been wasted can now be filled with checking the news, feeds, and received messages. We read more and more often, but with less concentration. Ecstasy has made way for distraction, slow media for hypermedia. Thanks to digital technology, we have taken two steps forward and one back. That is, on balance, still progress. But why doesn’t it feel like it?

Naturally that has to do with the quality of our reading behaviour. Modern reading consists mainly of glancing over, checking, and scanning headlines. According to publicist Nicolas Carr, this transitory reading behaviour even influences in a worrying way our cognitive abilities. If we don’t watch out, he warns us, we will forget the attentive reading that offers room for reflection and insight. We need quality time when it comes to reading. As if you are talking about a couple who, with the arrival of their first child, come to the conclusion that they hardly have any attention for each other.

It is a pattern that we frequently see arise since the digitization of media: there is more, but it is of a lesser quality. Take music. Digitization has brought us into contact with a virtually infinite collection of music. Initially, we exchanged them illegally using Napster; now there is Spotify where you can get millions of numbers free of charge. The audio quality of the music is worse than it was on vinyl or CD, but that doesn’t bother us. The same applies to videos on YouTube. The picture quality of the average video is awful, certainly when compared to the high definition pictures of some digital TV channels or Blu-ray discs, but we put up with it.

An e-reader doesn’t surpass the interface of a printed book, but with an e-reader you can take more easily more books on holiday with you. For writers, it has become easier to publish a book; they do not necessarily need a publisher and can publish the book themselves. The online communities are also very appealing to fervent readers; they cross borders and are stimulating. But we ourselves remain the biggest stimulus. If you believe that you read with too little attention, then you will have to free up some time. It’s as simple as that. If that doesn’t work – and there’s every chance of that – then you will have to be more rigorous: get rid of the TV, leave your laptop in the office, and get a dumb phone.

Erwin van der Zande is the founder and current editor-in-chief of Bright magazine.

73. Designing a New Stratification of Information – René van Engelenburg

There may very well be drivers who are an exception, but I think that for most, observing traffic signs along the road is an automatism. You pick up the relevant data: ‘here the maximum speed limit is 130 kph’. But actually the reverse is true: you ‘unconsciously’ filter out what is not interesting. ‘Prohibited for vehicles weighing more than 5,000 kg’; whoever saw that sign? And so you ‘scan’ yourself a route through the traffic.

An explosion of screens has engulfed us in recent years; from smartphones, iPads, laptops, touch panels on ticket machines, personal navigation systems, and public signposting, to electronic advertising panels and gigantic urban screens. The physical world at all levels is slowly but surely being devoured and covered by the virtual. Behind all those screens there is a world of ‘new media’ people who invisibly provide content 24/7: make apps, fill websites, do dtp, program RSS-Feeds, transmit broad and narrow casting streams, provide Twitter feeds, and very occasionally make a digital work of art. An incomprehensible stream of text, image, and symbols, which have all been thought up and designed by somebody. All those screens have an enormous impact on the way in which we experience our environment and influence our actions.

In this new world, artists and designers have more chance than ever to think about and to build that approaching ‘New Babylon’; the modernistic ideal world of CoBrA artist Constant Nieuwenhuis, where the architecture will adapt itself to the changing circumstances so that you, as a completely free and nomad individual, will never return to exactly the same place. Where you, just like the driver, automatically filter what is relevant information for you on your way to your next location.

The reality, however, has not yet arrived in ‘New Babylon’; the integration of this new media layer and the ‘old architecture’ will demand years of development. Museums, broadcasting companies, cinemas, and theatres, the classic providers of culture content, have the chance, and perhaps the obligation, to play a leading role in that developing world. They could begin by reinventing themselves by integrating all the various media layers into a search for new possibilities for the public that then not only absorbs information, but also shapes it themselves.

René van Engelenburg, designer and initiator of DROPSTUFF.nl; Urban Screen Network for the Digital and Interactive Arts.

74. Dancing Words – Francisco van Jole

In the second half of the twentieth century, the arrival of vinyl and the transistor made music permanently available to everybody. And the first thing that perished was the dance. Before this, dancing was subject to rules, encapsulated in formats. Waltz or foxtrot, Charleston or tango. Each had its own demands that the dancer had to satisfy. That drawing up of rules is part of restricted availability: making as efficient and intense use as possible of what is available. Scarcity exacts discipline. ‘I cannot dance’ means: I haven’t mastered the rules.

Subsequently, dancing became self-invented rhythmic movements of the body There is practically complete freedom, with no or very few rules. Everybody does whatever they like.

A similar liberation arose with the digitization of language. The computer, thanks to the word processor and email, was the first to ensure that written language, with all its specific format rules, was ousted by spoken language. Then the SMS message appeared and put pay to the most elementary spelling rules, like a sort of house music of written language. It is all about the ability to express instead of mastering skills. For the language purist, it is destruction; for the user it is liberation. More people than ever express themselves in writing.

At the same time, the image is in the ascendency. When I am searching for the meaning of a word in a foreign language, I make at least as much use of Google Images to be able to see what it is at a glance as Google Translations. YouTube is used more than you think as a search machine or encyclopaedia. Ask yourself the question: ‘how does the heart work?’ and you know why pictures are preferable.

Images also win because language is too complicated, too abstract. The example that stands out the most is the smiley. If you want to replace this with words, you will need considerably more time and thought to do it.

For the lovers of language, that is a horror scenario: the image that suppresses the language. But regardless of the question of whether that suppression really is so complete, it actually leads, in practice, to the opposite development. Image language is not yet levelled out, the proper mastery of it is as yet a scarce skill, the rules are stricter. Image is the new field of the expert. As language once was. And before that the dance. Dancing words, that is automatically an image in your mind.

Francisco van Jole is an Internet journalist and writer.

75. Books Are Bullets in the Battle for the Minds of Men – Peter van Lindonk

What inspires more? A picture or a text? Stupid question, of course – sometimes a picture and sometimes a text. But almost everybody thinks that a picture always wins. Who hasn’t heard the sentence: ‘A picture says more than a thousand words’? It was first written by Frederick R. Barnard, the marketing boss of Street Railways Advertising, in the trade magazine Printers Ink of 8 December 1921. Frederick is honest enough to say that this piece of wisdom was not his, but came from a Japanese philosopher. He wasn’t, incidentally, completely honest: a few years later, he had changed ‘a thousand words’ into ‘ten thousand words’, and the Japanese philosopher suddenly became Chinese.

The answer to the question is: the picture has the potential of winning in all its simplicity from a torrent of words, but that does not mean that it is always the case. The problem is that looking at a picture is, in principle, easier than reading words. I say ‘in principle’, because just as a child must learn to read and write, a child must also learn to ‘read’ a picture, to analyse it, or even to reject it. In a world full of visual violence, ‘learning to see’ (not learning to look) should be a mandatory subject.

What will certainly happen is that text and image will more frequently be consumed jointly. I used to be able to listen to the radio and do my homework at the same time (something my mother wouldn’t or couldn’t believe); today, young people can also have their television on and watch CNN on their computer, with two split images and above them one and sometimes even two newsbars. Before I forget: making a phone call or sending an SMS via your mobile telephone can also be put on the list.

What is required is something or someone offering coherence and consistency, a sort of funnel. That function was for a long time the exclusive field of newspapers and magazines, but an end is coming to that. No need to panic: new filters are coming. You increasingly consume news via fast websites and Twitter, discover what your friends and acquaintances are doing via the social media. In short, there’s not much news coming, just more of the same. And moving along with greater speed.

And what about that book? The unparalleled brainchild of the individual? The jacket may and will change: the e-Reader, the audio book, the iPad, in Japan 180,000 titles exclusively for the mobile phone etcetera. Distribution is changing (recently, Borders, the bookstore chain in America went bankrupt), but content remains. And I remain posimistic, as my son in America calls it.

Peter van Lindonk is a publisher and writer. He annually organizes a congress called PINC (People, Ideas, Nature, Creativity).

76. Reading Surroundings – Koert van Mensvoort

Anybody wishing to know the future of reading must consult the past. I will skip grandma’s era; the age of printed paper was nothing more than an intermediary period. Let’s go back even further. How did we read 40,000 ago? We didn’t! Or so you would think. And yet that isn’t true, There were, of course, no media such as we have now. And yet we read. What? We read our surroundings. We read the landscape, the skies, the tracks in the sand of the prey we were hunting. This way of ‘reading our surroundings’ is something we’ve forgotten – except for a handful of Aboriginals. That’s a pity, because reading your surroundings, in which symbols coincide with events and things, has a future. An expensive description for this is Augmented Reality. And it is precisely what it says: increased, magnified reality. We drape a symbolic layer over our physical surroundings which must help us denote them. Buildings and events become text. Our surroundings become our interface. Context is content. And we human beings are evolutionarily perfectly equipped for that.

Koert van Mensvoort is founder of Next Nature and assistant professor at the University of Technology , Eindhoven .

77. Reading with Electronic Blinkers – Tjebbe van Tijen

This morning, an academic e-reader (MyiLibrary) again annoyed me by putting me in blinkers and only allowing me to read a few pages. I was so annoyed that I sent the following question to a Flemish scientist in the field of reading perception: ‘Various so-called e-readers with online book files have, in order to protect commercially the paper book, restricted reading to just a few pages at a time. The familiar, traditional way of reading, with pages open next to each other, has been made impossible, as has leafing through the book or jumping from page to page. A single, slowly loading page at a time – that is what is set before you.’

This causes me, but also many others – see all sorts of protesting users and people who have programmed work-arounds – enormous irritation when reading… That irritation is initially subconscious, but it soon becomes so irksome that reading such presentations is virtually impossible.

I am trying to discover what causes that irritation, also out of interest for what reading actually is. (I have been active for thirty years as a part-time librarian/archivist and I am interested in the history of reading and writing.)

Now my experience with a book is of a somewhat undulating landscape of pages laying next to each other, which appear two-by-two in picture (in which hand/eye synchronization… the tactile and the visual, and also the motoric, all blend into one action). This experience is damaged by the visual exclusion of the expected image of neighbouring pages, the constantly missing other page, which gives the physical, but perhaps also the metaphorical balance to the reading object known as book. Printed text is naturally first and foremost image and only becomes writing when it is read. When reading, my eye wanders, as in a landscape, across words, across graphic indications such as indents, quotation marks, differences in the typography, lists – you name it. Linear reading is but one of the actions that are undertaken. This information landscape seems to have a natural border because it is (often) held by ourselves and the eye moves like a ship on the waves and still knows how to keep its course.

Looking back and forward from one half to the other of the open book. Then the distinguishing localizations of our perception system come into play. The peripheral field of vision perhaps creates the space in which reading becomes a creative act. The current scientific research into what reading really is for you also has more refined terms about how observations at the edges of the shifting field of our focus can play a headstrong role. Parafoveal vision is a term that is used in this context. Could the impossibility of reading at one glance the field of writing on the pages of an opened book perhaps cause our eye to scout constantly the edges of our immediate observation as a form of verification of the meandering progress along the words and through the sentences?

Reading academic orations stimulates – I think – this rapid back and forth movement of our alert eye more than a more linear narrative, when we really don’t want to know in advance what is coming… It is certain that the single page of the small eBook and the miserly publishers who offer their electronic book versions in the 1-page format are systematically stealing what is and remains one of the miracles of technique: the book controlled by hand and eye.

Tjebbe van Tijen runs Imaginary Museum Projects and is visiting fellow at the School of Creative Media / City University of Hong Kong.

78. Better Tools – Dirk van Weelden

In the past, when most people were only moderately lettered and read slowly and out loud (obeying the rules according to the holy printed word), it was an enormous gift if you could also read differently. Scholars, writers, setters: professional readers mastered techniques that resembled sorcery: diagonal reading, fast reading, pattern recognition reader, and reading between the lines. And what’s more, it seems as if they were inexhaustible and so could read all the time and everything at once, without getting at all confused.

That speed reading now seems something that the average fourteen-year-old can easily master. Now we all do it. But the quantity, the speed, and the diversity of the texts passing by would make somebody from the seventeenth century faint. We can write something down while we are phoning, and occasionally follow over our shoulder a screen with news items and in another window scroll through search results.

Reading swiftly and switching, at random and recognizing patterns, gave a lead in a world of slow, straightforward text reading. A lead in terms of freedom, speed, skill. What type of reading gives freedom, speed, and skill if the norm for reading is fast, diagonal, springing, and fragmentary?

In the past, it was the magic of the written word that inspired authority and made them obedient. Now it is the magic of the media circus, with its overwhelming, multicoloured variety, its speed, its humour, and its recognition that make people credulous and docile. It is not Authority but Distraction that keeps us stupid. Resistance to it is a good way to start. Or in other words the ability to be able to choose where to direct your attention and to keep it there as well. Don’t bat an eyelid when an e-mail comes in, don’t multitask, don’t do anything other than read.

The second characteristic of reading that is freer and faster, and makes you stronger is this: take the text literally, read the same sentence again, out loud if necessary. Remember what you have written in this way. Think: how could this be said in a different way? Why do they say it like that? You develop a nose for incompetent, thoughtless bullshit. And an eye for the ingenuity of a surprising phrasing. If you read literally and slowly, you know like lightning whether somebody knows what he’s writing about or not. You see the secret vanity of how somebody lays the blame in a subtle way with somebody else. You hear emotions between the facts. The repulsive vagueness, the hideous narrow-mindedness. You don’t see all that if you speed read. Somebody who can read slowly learns to think faster. You reach an opinion faster – one that is based on something. Handy!

The sort of reading that can make somebody in today’s information society freer, faster, and more skilled works like this: continue to concentrate; look at the language and how it works; wait until the implicit and unintended in a text can organize itself and tell you something that does not coincide with the information in the text. Anybody who can do this has built up a strong immune system against the toxin in the stream of information. But also has a formidable tool in their hand. Your fellow speed readers are jealous of it and sometimes afraid.

Dirk van Weelden is a philosopher and author.

79. E-Stone – Jack van Wijk

Text is a fantastic invention. The idea is simple: in its minimal form, text is nothing more than a short or long sequence of around one hundred different symbols. This enables us to save, spread, and absorb information, whereby information can be everything, varying from a sequence of facts to an exciting story, from a business letter to a declaration of love.

Text and technology have a close relationship. Text can be cut in stone: a durable, but not very portable solution. We can still read on the Rosetta Stone how the priests of Memphis thanked ruler Ptolemy V Epiphanes more than 2000 years ago, but if we want to read the original we have to go to London . Paper is a much handier medium and allows us to take texts with us; with electronic and digital technology, we can distribute texts around the world like lightning. The telegraph is an early example of this, followed by inventions such as telex, teletext, e-mail, the web, SMS, and Twitter.

In all these new electronic environments, text is the pioneer that first demands space, followed later by graphics, image, and video. Initially, graphic quality is minimal. Instead of carefully designed texts, carefully set in accurately designed fonts, letters are constructed with a limited number of lines or with a coarse grid of dots. The reader, eager for rapid information, accepts this and reads texts from an illuminated ticker-tape and from grey green mobile phone screens. Perhaps we must accept that new technology restricts graphic possibilities. Wim Crouwel saw this as a challenge and in 1967 designed the New Alphabet: a font with exclusively horizontal and vertical lines, suitable for cathode ray tubes. But in practice it transpires that new technology is developed to offer a higher image fidelity, and a modern smartphone has a colour screen with 300 dots per inch.

With modern technology, text can be quickly produced and distributed by everybody. That gives a deluge of text, in which we could drown. But modern technique also provides solutions for this. Finding a word in a text, finding a text in a collection: that is no problem at all with a search function and a search engine. Visualization makes it possible to get a quick overview of large quantities of text. Examples of this are the tag cloud, or the word cloud, with which key words can be indicated; Vox Civitas, a tool which can analyze, for example, 160,000 tweets during a speech by Obama; and ThemeScapes, coloured mountainscapes in which collections of similar documents appear as mountain tops.

Electronic text is transitory. Often that is no problem, not every SMS is equally important, but sometimes you receive a message that effects you and you want to keep it. I see here a gap in the market. Send your SMS to a service that is newly established with the working name SMS4ever. Your message is sent to a computer-driven milling machine and a day later you receive your message engraved in either granite or marbel as specified, immortalized for eternity!

Jack van Wijk is Professor Visualization at the Department of Mathematics and Computer Science of Eindhoven University of Technology (TU/e).

80. Mushrooms and Truffles – Astrid Vorstermans

How do illiterates and young children read? They don’t read text, but can often point out pictures with the best of them. I spoke to a woman who had been illiterate until she reached the age of forty and had developed a range of clever tricks to distil information from images and context. Until she started reading lessons and learned the difference between the targeted pointing out of information, and savouring text and image for their own qualities.

Gradually I learn to read information on new carriers: Where do you find what? How do you use various media to give stratification and significance to certain questions and content? How do data branch out and how do tracks merge? I find a way in the sea of possibilities. Internet is an ideal source for the latest news, for the weather forecast, and for train cancellations and delays, and while doing that I learn where I can find more and more exciting things. I notice that I still use Internet only as a targeted way to solutions and answers, and, funnily enough, I often use it in the same way as ‘old’ media: if the information is more profound, then I make a print and read it with much more attention than the information on the screen.

But what to do with smell, taste, rhythm, texture, and so on? The information that I acquire via the path of the screen is, for me, a mushroom: nutritious, light, easily and cheaply produced and consumed, no after-taste. Books offer a different experience: the tension curve and concentration is different, and the paper, the rustling, the texture, and the smell, the suppleness of the cover, the typography invite you not just to absorb information, but can, in the proper case, evoke seduction, delay, greed, introversion, excitement, and eroticism.

Astrid Vorstermans is an art historian, and founder, editor and publisher of Valiz.

81. Book It – McKenzie Wark

I define book as any fairly long, more or less continuous act of reading with some more or less consistent thread.

It is probably always the case that a book in this sense is not the same as the bound-together pages of the thing usually called book.

When did we start thinking that the book designated some kind of unity? How many bound books actually ever manage to be consistent and coherent enough to warrant its status as being properly booked?

In English, to make a booking is to add something to a collectively authored book, usually a work of appointments. Why not think of booking more broadly?

A booking could be both the writing and reading that produces a more or less consistent, coherent experience where a book appears.

These days booking is a do-it-yourself business. Read across all sorts of surfaces and eventually you find the coherence and consistency of a situation that really seems worth booking.

Perhaps this is what you are looking for, on your screens. Perhaps you are looking for the threads, links, conjectures that can book sentences together into larger realms of sense.

After the death of ‘the death of the author’ comes the birth of booking.

McKenzie Wark teaches at the New School for Social Research and is the author of Gamer Theory and A Hacker Manifesto.

82. Danger: Contains Books – Simon Worthington

The recent proliferation of digital reading devices has led to extreme format paranoia, as if the book is an endangered species, under threat of extinction. This overlooks the fact that there is already a lot of ‘book’ in the digital – the vector of incursion moving as much from print to digital as it does from the digital into our notionally stable, ‘enshrined’ cultural form of the book. As the number of tablets and eReaders in use doubles, and mobiles lose their buttons behind the glass of the screen, the interface behaviour of ‘the swipe’ is in ascendance. Is this not, in the end, also a page turn? And in a similar way, is the tweet not something like a margin note; the cloud ‘bookmark’ just that – a bookmark. If we regarded these categories more openly than we do – as ripe for mutation and adaptation, rather than set in stone, a legacy of history – then we would realize this moment constitutes one of ascendance not death.

More interesting questions, I think, focus on the composition of the publishing market – irrespective of whether that is for digital or print. When it comes to the production of books, the booster mantras – of ‘long tails’ and ‘here comes everybody’ – turn out to be misguided fantasies, distractions from the fact that the top twelve publishers make 65 percent (£1.2billion) of the revenue, at least in the UK. This situation hasn’t significantly changed over the last forty years of publishing innovation and digital ‘revolutions’ and if you look across the EU where, at £20 billion (2009), publishing is the largest creative industry, then it’s clear the long tail hasn’t been benefiting the small publishers as claimed, but instead serves to consolidate network monopolies.

Smaller players and Joe Public are told it’s good to share, while these same network monopolies reap all the associated advertising revenue into their offshore accounts, and social networks just wait for IPO day, their bloated info-bellies replete with our profiles, connections, and traces.

Supporting independent writing and publishing has been Mute’s raison d’être since day one. Then as now it’s infrastructures that appear a prime zone of contestation. Then as now, collaboration appears to offer a way out of the marginalization imposed upon us via our size. A recent project, Progressive Publishing System, looks to help small publishers distribute into ePublishing platforms, hybrid and expanded books, new book channels, and even walled gardens. Infiltrating every channel available, it attempts to allow content to ‘follow the reader’, rather than pretending the network can come good on its promise to deliver the reader to us.

Simon Worthington is the co-founder and director of digital at Mute Publishing.

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20.06.2011