When I spoke at the Norman Mailer Society Conference in 2005, I was asked to discuss the position of literature and English Studies at the beginning of the twenty-first century, how the work of Norman Mailer fit into these cultural and intellectual trends, and recommend ways that the Society might continue to flourish in a still incunabular information age. In 2005, books and the system that supported their publication still reigned supreme; thus US alone published 282,500 new titles, about 40,000 of which were fiction. Also in the fall of 2005, The Facebook, a successful social networking site for colleges and universities, had just launched its version for high schools; it was still a year away from opening its digital doors to the world’s Internet users, but it already showed the growing popularity of Web 2.0 applications and their integral foundation of community built on members’ affinity. And in 2005, the world had not yet heard of an iPhone; its launch wouldn’t be for another year and eight months.

In my talk, I highlighted the growing disparity between our play on the internet and our serious work as literary scholars and aficionados. I advocated flexibility and patience to help us through this transition from atoms to bits. I suggested that it’s up to us canon builders to decide what’s important, in Toni Morrison’s words, to “pass on” in both senses: that is, what needs to be preserved and emphasized for the coming generations and what it is we can safely leave behind. If anything, our digital lives — with their ever-increasing glut of information — blurs this distinction not only for us, but especially for those who have never know a world without the Internet.

So at the end of this century’s first decade, where are we? In the middle of March 2010, more people visited Facebook than Google, and by July the number of active users on Facebook had grown to 500 million. Facebook might be the apotheosis of the Web 2.0, but in its most insipid form. The idea of the Web 2.0 began as a reaction to static web pages. It proponents argued that the web should be user-centered and less like the printed page. Sites should be dynamic, allowing the users to participate, to contribute, and to collaborate. Web sites should be only frameworks, giving users the space to and tools for sharing their affinity with photography, video, books, cooking, and any other topic you can think of. However, since my discussion of the Web 2.0 in 2005, something shifted in its focus, and it might be blamed on Twitter, introduced in the summer of 2006. Twitter, as you know, allows users to follow other users’ “tweets,” or streams of SMS-like messages limited to 140 characters. Many users of Twitter attempt to focus on a topic, but according to Pear Analytic research firm, the dominant content of tweets is “pointless babble” — you know, the nonsense that makes up most of our lives. About Twitter, Bruce Sterling states, “Using Twitter for literate communication is about as likely as firing up a CB radio and hearing some guy recite the Iliad.” I would argue that Facebook seems to replace the topic-centered Web 2.0 with Twitter’s “pointless babble,” turning it into the ubiquitous “social media.”

In light of the Facebook revolution of the Web, even more voices are speaking out that lament the ostensible death of traditional literacy. More so, as the research of UCLA Professor of Psychiatry Gary Small suggests, reading the web is actually rewiring our brains. His findings will probably be no surprise to us: “When we go online, we enter an environment that promotes cursory reading, hurried and distracted thinking, and superficial learning. Even as the Internet grants us easy access to vast amounts of information, it is turning us into shallower thinkers, literally changing the structure of our brain.”

Reading on the web — probably the most popular form of reading done off a computer screen — is not the same thing as reading a novel. Something about the computer — even a laptop — inspires a cursory, quick, and superficial consumption of text. Perhaps it’s because it looks more like a television than it does a book? Perhaps it’s because we have to lean forward, rather than lean back? Perhaps we are trained that what comes to us through a monitor should be consumed in a certain way, whereas that which is found on leaves in a cloth binding must be absorbed in another way. In many ways, books — especially novels — are like holy artifacts; computers, to paraphrase Norman Mailer, are machines of the devil.

I still hear people say that they can’t proofread or edit on a computer screen. There’s something about the printed word on a physical sheet of paper that allows our minds to take it more seriously than we would something appearing on a computer screen in a web browser. Seriously, I’m pretty sure I could never read a book on a PC.

Perhaps it’s the notion that what we see on the computer screen is somehow transient and impermanent — that it can disappear with a flick of a switch or the press of a key. Books sit heavily on shelves. They are weighty matter that can be handled and not so easily disposed of. Until recently, the idea of publishing was like, in Gilgamesh‘s words, “having one’s name stamped in bricks.” If you were mentioned by a poet, you achieved a kind of immortality. “Literature” deserves this treatment, after all. It is weighty. It matters. It should be in books, not on computer screens. Sven Bickerts in the The Gutenberg Elegies echoes this sentiment: “our entire collective history — the soul of societal body — is encoded in print. Is encoded, and has for countless generations been passed along by way of the word, mainly through books” (20). This is significant, no?

Birkerts goes on to lament what he sees as an inevitable paradigm shift away from print to the digital. His observation seems to agree with Small’s research: the Web is destroying our ability to read in a significant way.

Not only is our reading changing because of our digital lives, but also our writing. According to Virginia Heffernan of the New York Times, “Book publishing is simply becoming self publishing.” Based on numbers from the Bowker bibliographic company, she reports that 764,448 book titles were produced by self-publishers, 45,000 of which were fiction titles. Inexpensive digital-publishing technologies and print-on-demand companies make professional-looking books — complete with dust jackets and ISBNs — within any aspiring author’s reach. Waning are the days, too, of the stigma of the self-published, since many are finding commercial success without the hassle and frustration of dealing with the traditional publishing industry gatekeepers. Therefore, if anyone can publish a novel, is our access to digital technologies also destroying what we read?

These significant changes are not the only technical revolution to happen since 2005. Apple introduced the iPhone in January 2007, and the first model was available six months later. Not only has the iPhone made a significant shift in the cellular phone market, but it has also changed the way that many of us interact with our information, so much so, that Wired recently proclaimed “The Web Is Dead.” They argue that while information access is on the rise, how users get that information is changing from the Web to apps, like those Apple sells for its iPhone. These apps are smaller, sleeker, faster, and more specific to the task: they are about “getting,” not “browsing.” With technologies like push notifications, that information users want is delivered directly, rather than the user going out to find it. With the great success of the iPhone, Apple later released what might arguably be called the most popular and successful consumer device of the last couple of years: the iPad.

With the iPad, we can finally sit back again, like we would with a novel. The iPad is made for visually rich content; the user experience is more encompassing — applications use the entire screen, blocking out other distractions. Photographs and videos look beautiful; games are a new experience, but it’s the text applications that really won me over, so much so that I started cutting up some of my older and decaying books — particularly novels — to give them a new life. Welcome to the Novel 2.0.

One of the coolest things I did, that most folks will never see or appreciate, is add iPhone icons to each site. I’ve done this before, but it was only after purchasing Reeder for the iPad that I knew I needed to do it again. Reeder is a slick RSS reader for the iOS, but unlike others I’ve used, it’s superior both in looks and functionality. It doesn’t have some features that I’d like — for example, the ability to tweet an entry or save it to Delicious — but Not only does it look great, but it has the ability to post to Delicious, Twitter, Instapaper, and other social networking sites; it’s a great app and one that I use everyday.

My favorite part of Reeder has to be the icon presentation. Each group of feeds looks like a stack of cards; each feed a single card, marked either with its favicon or its iPhone icon. Most web sites by now have the former, but fewer have the latter, though it’s a simple addition to the site as Dave Taylor explains on the last link. Not only does this add a cool icon to the home screen of your iOS device, but Reeder uses them in its feed display. Here are mine:

Pretty slick, no? I’d just like to add one thing to Dave Taylor’s otherwise good tutorial. I made my icons 150×150 pixels, rather than the 45×45 he suggests. Trust me, the larger sizes look much better on the iPhone 4′s retina display and the iPad’s bigger surface. Also, you need to add the code to the <head> portion of your index file. If you don’t, the icon won’t work.

I’m still working on this web site, but I think it works much better as a portfolio — the way I always envisioned it. WordPress 3.0 with the help of WooThemes has made this very easy. I like it, though I don’t think I’ll ever be totally happy with the look of this site. A couple of things I’m likely going to change include the blog font; I hate sans serif fonts as entry text. This shouldn’t be too difficult with a bit of CSS kung fu; I might even try one of Google’s web fonts. Also, I need to find a way to use the media portion of the front page. Currently, it displays random entries under the “Photography” and “Video” categories. I think I’m going to use them to display the icons that I’m associating with their respective web sites. However, when a user clicks on one, I want it to be able to take them to the site. As I said: I’m still making some adjustments.

I’ve updated and upgraded the Norman Mailer Society web site. It’s now running WordPress 3.0 and uses the Canvas theme from WooThemes. I added the banner graphic after a bit of Photoshop play. Also, I opened a Twitter account for the society, something that I’ll probably find easier to update regularly. If you have Twitter, follow us and we’ll reciprocate. This year’s conference is in Sarasota, and I’ll be speaking on the iPad and the future of books. My tentative title is “Cutting Up Norman Mailer.” More on this soon.

So these are the most readily noticeable updates; all others involved theme and WordPress upgrades, keyword and meta description tweaks, and widget additions, subtractions, or movements. I still need to work on my Moodle install, not to mention the long-neglected Humanities web site (not that anyone cares).

Now I’m going to see if it’s cooled down outside.

As I get older, I find my brain doesn’t work the way it used to. I forget names as quickly as I hear them; I can’t remember the names of restaurants I enjoyed, or what I ate that was so fraking good; I often grasp at words while teaching. I attribute this to aging, but it could also have something to do with disinterest or solipsism. Goodness knows, I am the center of the universe. But, it could also have something to do with my changing relationship with technology.

Years ago, say twenty, I used to carry in my wallet a laminated card that had my frequently used phone numbers printed on it. Not only was said card a testament to my utter nerdliness, it was also a pretty good memory helper. However, I probably used the card a total of two times, since my youthful brain seemed to recall most of the numbers on it anyway. Also, changing the card proved difficult. Not only did I have to go into the MacWrite Pro document to modify the names and numbers, but I had to print it on card stock (both sides), cut the card so it looked neat, then buy one of those self-laminating packs from the dispenser at Eckerd Drugs. Often, my cut would be lopsided or imprecise, or I would accidentally stick the card to the laminate too early and have to start all over again. When the planets finally aligned, I’d have a tribute to my nerdly OCD: a perfect little card I could put in my wallet that would probably be obsolete within a day or two.

Fast forward twenty years: my laminated card has been replaced by my iPhone. Not only is updating a breeze, my iPhone could actually carry around details about every person I have ever met, including a vague little photograph that might be them. Seriously, because of its tether to Facebook, my iPhone now has details about people I haven’t seen in twenty years, including “friends” I’ve likely never met — or at least don’t recall meeting. Photos don’t really help here. Not only does my brain not have to remember any phone numbers — well, I do know my wife’s cell number — I might have your number in my brain extension without even knowing it.

Another way I extend my brain is with other Web 2.0 sites, like Delicious. This link accrual and sharing site lets me store the links on their server rather than my local web browser. The beauty here lies in the fact that a new web browser or a new machine does not destroy my memory of favorite, interesting, or amusing sites. Delicious extends my Internet memory. I just wish I remembered how I tag stuff, but that’s another issue.

Enter Tumblr, my latest extension (permanently linked above under Portfolio). Think of Tumblr as a microblog — not quite like the full-fledged blog you’re currently reading, nor as limited as a tweet. It occupies a realm somewhere between. Twitter is for the apathetic blogger; Tumblr is for the lazy blogger. Blogging is for the wannabe writer, for that  matter. Yes, I still live in another paradigm, but I am crossing over.

Tumblr is like sitting behind the wheel of a car you’ve had for years: comfortable, easy, and neat. It allows me to post snippets of text, links, photos, video clips, chats — just about any Web media you can think of. It’s a log of stuff I find interesting enough to want to remember. Sure, the only real organization is chronology, but Tumblr does provide tags now, an attempt at folksonomy, much like Delicious, grown-up blogs, and Technorati. I like tags; I just wish my brain could use them in a consistent way.

I use Twitter primarily for professional purposes, like communicating with my students. There’s something elegant and germane about the 140 characters here. My tweets run across LitMUSE with important tidbits of information. I just wish students would look before shooting me a frantic email.

I use the blog for writing practice (here, here, and here) and for my photography side-business.

I use Tumblr as a brain dump. It’s a place to remember what I thought about something and when I thought about it. While I have it linked to Facebook and Twitter, it’s really just for me, an extension of myself.

According to Paul Boutin, in the November 2008 issue of Wired, personal blogs should be retired. With the dominance of professional blogs, trolls, and time limitations, Twitter seems the obvious choice for the 2008 blogger. He explains:

When blogging was young, enthusiasts rode high, with posts quickly skyrocketing to the top of Google’s search results for any given topic, fueled by generous links from fellow bloggers. In 2002, a search for “Mark” ranked Web developer Mark Pilgrim above author Mark Twain. That phenomenon was part of what made blogging so exciting. No more. Today, a search for, say, Barack Obama’s latest speech will deliver a Wikipedia page, a Fox News article, and a few entries from professionally run sites like Politico.com. The odds of your clever entry appearing high on the list? Basically zero.

That seems pretty grim for this blog. He’s right, too: incorporating multimedia is much easier today than when blogs made their debut. I think rather than pulling the plug here, I can diversify. I mean, no one cares what I write anyway, so much of my blogging is for self-gratification.

I need to Twit more anyway, I guess. As if anyone would find that interesting.