So, the question on my mind is: how exactly do we do that? Test installations are a must. We need to see the system in action, develop sample content to deposit therein, and see how many different ways we end up breaking the repository (or just being incredibly frustrated with it).

However, the software-technical side of the repository system is less useful for most of us than an understanding of how repositories are used, and in fact, if they are used. From the literature and from presentations, discussions, and my reading about institutional repositories, it looks like that “if” is a much larger concern than the implementation of something cool.

Of course, the larger point is that, assuming a certain level of functionality, the software really doesn’t matter (if you ask some of the experts in the field, there aren’t any good ones, anyway). We need to use something that will provide sufficient function and be acceptable to our IT services group. On the other hand, contributors to the repository may have a general interest in what it can do, but they’re only going to be interested to the extent that it does what they want it to do - as with most things, users will employ a satisficing process to evaluate this resource the same as they will any resource.

So if we are to seek out how repositories are actually used, what do we do? To whom do we speak? We hope to speak to repository coordinators / directors at other institutions, but I’d like to get into the user’s mind too, and get beyond the “obvious” use cases.

To that end, I hope that the repository coordinators at other institutions will point me toward some frequent users, but if any of my few readers do have further suggestions along those lines, I am most interested in hearing them. I have few preconceptions about this process, so I am as a blank slate.

The report is interesting (I’m always interested in reports about how libraries are perceived), especially the section on attitudes toward library importance. The Chronicle of Higher Education, in the 8/26/08 issue, also commented on the report:

“Since 2003, faculty members across the disciplines have shown a marked decline in how devoted they are to libraries as information portals. Eighty percent of humanities scholars are still devoted to library research-although that may be not because they’re traditionalists but because they can’t yet get what they need in digital form. But only 48 percent of economists and 50 percent of scientists value libraries as gateways.

That should worry librarians whose budgets are eaten up by high-priced science journals. What if the designated users of those materials are sidestepping the library altogether?”

-Howard, Jennifer. “FYI: Scholar’s view of libraries as portals shows marked decline.” Chronicle of Higher Education, 8/26/2008.

The comment is more interesting than the report (which is a bit dry). So, anyway, the alarms sound because the trend shows that libraries are becoming less important in as gateways to information in the eyes of faculty: they don’t come to the library anymore to begin their research; nor do they start their research in the library’s OPAC. In turn, this threatens the viability of “librarian” as an important figure on campus.

However, I don’t actually think this report actually says quite what the quote from the Chronicle claims. First of all, the questions don’t particularly focus on “devotion” to library research - I would find an unusual devotion to library research a bit odd, actually. What’s more, the Chronicle author (and the report itself) seem to use “library research” to mean “research done while sitting in the library.” It should come as no surprise that much library research is done while not at all close to the library; this remote access has been a service goal of libraries for a long time. It’s laudable that you don’t have to actually sit in the library to conduct research using its resources.

Second, if you consider Figure 5 of the Ithaka report, it illustrates that the majority (something like 70%) of research is started using library resources in one way or another. It’s simply that it is conducted remotely (in fact, the report points out that ultimately, resource access is often via the library’s license, but the search starts somewhere else) or it may not start with a “generic library resource” approach. Breaking this down by discipline provides some no-brainer info: science faculty, for instance, rarely start in the library or the OPAC when they begin research, but rather in a specific electronic database.

This is not a surprise: science research is almost entirely journal-based, and the best way to access them is by going to the specific database in which the journal is indexed. The OPAC offers little support to science research when it starts (save for, possibly, knowing what journals the library owns), and given that the resources are electronic, and online, there’s no reason to come to the library. On the other hand, humanities scholars often have a more monograph-based research mode, and so they’ll begin in the library or with the OPAC.

In any case, while I think the library may in fact be less valued as a portal to information, this does not actually make the library less of a portal. After all, as pointed out elsewhere in the report, faculty don’t want to pay for access to the resources themselves; that’s the library’s job. However, faculty do wish to enjoy library-mediated access to those resources (and they get it, often no matter where their search actually starts). To me, this blurs the (somewhat artificial) distinction between “gateway” and “purchaser.” Without the library’s license to the materials, access would need to be mediated via some other means (which the faculty are loath to do, and rightly so, because that stuff is expensive) - ergo, the library is the gateway to the resource.

Of course, that doesn’t mean they know the library is the gateway, and that is where the report, I think, is really going. I don’t dispute the report. In fact, I thoroughly believe that the perception of value is a real problem. However, I think it’s heavily related to visibility: we’ve become so very good at providing seamless remote access to resources that nobody realizes that the library makes it possible for them to use these resources.

It has been an exercise in frustration, though. There are four tools I’ve looked at: ClearCheckbook, Mint, MySpendingPlan, and Wesabe. Of the four, only ClearCheckbook is a viable solution, and it is very primitive compared to the others.

This isn’t really germane to librarianship, as such, but here’s my superquick review of the systems:

1. ClearCheckbook: simple, clean, easy to use. Not particularly sophisticated. You create your accounts manually, input transactions manually. It does not connect to any banks or online services. You are required not to use any sensitive information - you call your checking account “Checking Account,” not “America Bank Account #123456789-0.” It supports expense categorization, simple budgeting, and reporting. Terms of use consist of 3 promises - they won’t sell your email (the only piece of personal info they have), and you in return won’t put any sensitive account data on their site, and you’ll use a good password. Otherwise, you’re on your own.
2. Mint: pretty, slick looking. Syncs with your bank accounts. In fact, you cannot create an account manually - you must let them sync to your bank accounts automatically. You also cannot add transactions manually - the only thing it does is pull down transactions that have cleared your bank and put them in. This means that, for instance, you can’t add a check you just wrote; you have to wait for it to clear before it shows up. Not terribly useful, in my mind. 
3. MySpendingPlan: would have been good, if not for the fact that it is absolutely littered with ads, offers, and advertising spam. Has a 7-step account setup thing (with interview questions like “when was the last time you evaluated your insurance needs?”) I wanted to use it but the sheer number of “free insurance quotes” and “looking to buy a home?” and vendor-linked shopping lists sent me on my way. It’s sponsored and paid for by the American Home Buying Association or something, so…
4. Wesabe: pretty, and has the interesting feature of building a tag-based aggregation of financial transactions (that is, you can tag a transaction with your own tags, and the amount of the transaction is aggregated with other similarly-tagged transactions from other users, which can let you know “is this amount normal” or “am I paying more than I should?”). Requires you to connect to your online banking services to upload accounts. Uploading doesn’t work - it’s clunky and broken. What’s more, there is once again no provision to enter transactions on your own - you have to wait until they’re downloaded from your bank. Not very useful. They do permit “cash” accounts to be manually created, though…I may go back and try that, because the aggregation features seemed nice.

So, enough about the tools - of the four, I choose ClearCheckbook, because banking info is sensitive, and I am in absolute control about what information I provide to the service. While I’m putting in transactions and such, I’m not required to put in passwords, expose account numbers, or anything like that. What’s more, it lets me put in transactions myself (like, say, transactions I just made). I don’t get the bizarre adherence to automation in that respect, to the extent that you are prevented from entering your own transactions.

And that made me consider an aspect of the “negative-click” repository idea that has been discussed previously. The goal was (to some extent) make repository contributions as effort-free as possible, by integrating all sorts of automated communication between various elements of the repository. However, there is likely a subset of users - or use cases - where the people making deposits to the repository want to have absolute control of what is added, how it is added, and how it is used. 

For example, if we look at it from a scholarly workbench point of view, we’re encouraging the use of the repository along the entire lifecycle of a piece of scholarly literature, including the sensitive early part where the scholar probably doesn’t want to show his or her hand about what research he or she is performing (for whatever reason: it’s sensitive, they don’t want to be scooped, whatever). For example, I’d love a tool that supported the process, but I have research papers in the works that I don’t really want to publicize quite yet. 

I see an (admittedly somewhat weak) analogy between this situation and the situation imposed by the financial management software mentioned above - if I want to add potentially sensitive or confidential data to a repository, I want to control absolutely what is added - I may not want it automatically tagged, uploaded, and connected to other similar research. I may want to simply have the data there, but avoid any really specific information associated with it - basically, make it something that only has meaning to me. 

This tends to fly in the face of some of the open-access goals of repositories, it seems to me. But if there is a goal to create a workflow-integrated repository with minimal effort, it strikes me as something that should be addressed. 

So, gentle readers - if I have any gentle readers of this post - what are your thoughts? Is this an interesting problem? Is it irrelevant to repositories? Is it simply so obvious as to not bear mentioning?

This is not a surprising topic - in fact, it’s a perennial topic in the library literature, to the extent that the first line of the article reflects that you can’t mention new or changing technology and libraries together without running afoul of somebody’s cliché. Still, this sort of article fascinates me as it falls in the realm of speaking the doom of libraries (doom here being “fate,” rather than “horrifying, fiery end” - that was handled in the last post I wrote about doomsaying).

Ross and Sennyey’s premise is to analyze libraries and their technological aspects through the lens of Richard Foster’s S-curve model (used to indicate the growth profile of new technologies, from early adoption to plateau and ultimately replacement by another “discontinuous” or disruptive technology). Foster’s theory suggests that in the face of a technology that is new and disruptive, most businesses will at first attempt to simply refine existing (and proven) methods. However, this sort of polishing only carries an organization so far, because while for a time, refined methods outperform new technologies, it’s like outrunning a toddler. Eventually, the new technology will get its feet under it and take off.

Ross and Sennyey argue that libraries are right now experiencing “diminishing returns as it continues totinker with its traditional protocols and services, while emerging technologies are improving at an exponential rate” (p. 145). I would argue that they don’t go far enough in their description of emerging technology: new technologies have surpassed traditional library methods in several areas of its mission, such as searching, resource discovery, and other areas.

Following are some of the notions in the article that I found interesting, and my thoughts. The relevant pages where these notions came from are listed as well.

1. People aren’t coming to the library to use it as a library anymore - they come for coffee, Facebook, and email. (p. 145)

I cannot argue with this; surveys here indicate that the primary reason someone crosses the gate is for the Java City coffee shop; second to that is (if I recall correctly) use of the computer labs. This may be an unavoidable consequence of offering such services, though. And, computer use for a relatively savvy user is often (from my limited, anecdotal observations) a rapid back-and-forth among multiple tools, web pages, and databases. You may Facebook or AIM, but in the moments between chat messages you’re hitting EBSCOHost or JSTOR to run a search.

2. The identity of “librarian” is itself in question - new technologies will require the reallocation of human resources, and in fact the authors suggest opening up the “professional ranks” to nonlibrarians, or, failing that, incorporate a range of new skills into library education (such as marketing). (p. 147)

I have my own questions about the value of calling librarianship a “profession” in the same sense that lawyers and doctors are considered “professionals,” as opposed to using the word to simply mean “job.” I don’t know what value it might add to actually being a librarian, for instance. Am I a professional? Is there an amount of magic dust embedded in my MLS degree that alters me fundamentally, so that I am a “professional?” I don’t know. I would prefer that librarians have an MLS degree, but I must admit only part of that is the fact that you do learn some useful library stuff on your way to getting that degree. The other part is selfish protection of the job market and hopes that the caché (chuckle) of the job isn’t diluted too much. I have to say, though, that adding marketing and business concepts to the MLS curriculum can only improve the quality of a librarian’s education.

3. The OPAC seems sorely lacking to users familiar with Google or Google Scholar. (p. 148) This is related to another comment about the nature of questions at the reference desk, which the authors suggest focus on the “…structural barriers that libraries themselves impose between the patron and the information, e.g., poorly designed and inconsistent computer interfaces, confusing buildings, and professional jargon…”(p. 147)

Ever since I started working at an actual library, I’ve thought that requiring a student to wade through dozens of unique (and complex) interfaces to do a thorough search of the library’s resources was tantamount to saying “we don’t care if it’s easy.” What student - with assignment deadlines, work, homework, and, frankly, a life - is going to want to sit through the painfully user-surly interfaces that so many databases provide? Especially when something like Google Scholar (for the sake of argument) exists. Scholar may not be the perfect system, but it shows it can be done. So my question is, why aren’t we doing it? I mean, let’s face it: I’m a librarian, and I don’t like using those interfaces. Why would anyone else?

4. Reference questions are decreasing in number, due to reasons such as changing curriculum (less focus on term paper, and more on group work), Web searches being easier and more convenient (though perhaps less successful), and competition from many different information sources (the library no longer being the sole, or even preferred, provider).(p. 149)

I mentioned in an entry a little while back that I thought the traditional reference desk setup was on its way out. In retrospect, I’m not positive that it really is, but I think there is so much more that can be done, reference-wise, that breaks away from the traditional mold. Of course, the fundamental aspect of reference work isn’t going to change: a patron asks a question, and the librarian answers it. But reference at a particular location or time is an artificial constraint, primarily (it seems to me) for convenience. Whither mobile reference? Reference podcasts or audio tours? RFID-based searching? (note, I’m mostly speaking in the context of my own library, as I expect some or all of those may exist at various libraries - in fact, if they do, let me know!)

I think the authors touch on but don’t examine the notion too that students are often quite savvy, and feel that they can handle anything the web throws at them without assistance. Students who are used to handling online searching all the time when they’re not in the library aren’t going to change their habits when they are, and start asking questions about manipulating our databases or other resources. They’re going to move ahead with the knowledge they already have, and if that doesn’t prove to work, then they might ask us. Or they might simply give up.

5. Competition is something to which libraries are culturally unaccustomed. (p. 146)

This is a very good and interesting point, and something I had not really ever considered. In library school, the entire focus was on the library - we did not discuss marketing or competition in any real way. It was as if such things were irrelevant or did not exist. Information vendors were generally cast in the role of providers to the library, and popular search tools were in fact sometimes demonized as inaccurate, non-authoritative, and downright dangerous for real scholarly work. Now, though, as the authors say, the library is faced with competition for attention from numerous angles, and, the authors contend, is showing somewhat poorly for it.

There are further discussions of library collections, and a suggestion that collection building was an anachronistic conceit (p. 150). The authors suggest a more dynamic digital collection, something that changes as the customer needs change, and consists of “rental” contracts that are frequently in flux. However, there is little attention paid to the question of preservation (that is, digital collections can vanish in an instant, so what means is there to have permanent information?) which I think is an oversight by the authors. As any archivist will tell you, digitization is an access mechanism, not a preservation mechanism, and Ross and Sennyey focus too much on the potential of a global digital collection approach and not enough on where the information goes when the hard drives fail.

Finally, the authors address the “library as place” question, which is fairly common in the literature as well. They challenge the accepted notion that the library’s physical presence is Important^TM (though they acknowledge cultural significance), and argue that the physical presence of the library is already changing because print collections are being used less and less, while other services: study areas, computer labs, and so forth - rise to prominence.

Overall, the article is well written, though at times it is fairly condemning of libraries (and I think a bit extreme in its assumptions that libraries have failed to embrace the new). The language is at times strong (one might say, “bracing”), and it may be somewhat too damning of the library. In large part I believe the authors have a solid point: there are a number of areas where traditional library practices are increasingly outmoded, and failure to perceive this means that disruptive technologies will put the library into a competitive tailspin from which it may not recover. Fortunately, the authors do concede that libraries doperceive the threat and are moving into the new technologies as quickly as organizational culture appears to permit.

Oh, it works in the sense that it allows individuals to upload materials to a centralized server and tag the contributions with metadata (allowing it to be searched and interrelated). But the problem - something discussed pretty much everywhere I see repositories discussed (there are many, many blogs talking about this topic: Caveat Lector, for instance; Peter Murray Rust’s blog; the Digital Curation Center) - is that these tools, despite their power, are simply extra work for the people who are supposed to feed them.

Digital repositories, ideally, are the place where university faculty, staff, and/or students can place their scholarly work so that others can find it and so the university can accumulate a large digital collection of the scholarly output of its employees. The catch is that these systems require additional work on the part of the faculty member to participate, and the consensus among those who have investigated such things seems to say that faculty researchers are willing to invest precisely zero additional work in contributing to a repository. The value proposition for the repository is simply not adequately made. The visible benefits of this outcome are many. The visible benefits of the investment are AWOL.

Recently, a couple blogs - Digital Curation’s negative-click repositories entry and Peter Murray Rust’s put it on the web discussion - addressed the fact that nobody wants to mess around with clumsy, user-surly, or work-added repository systems. The “negative-click repository” idea focuses more on the pure lack of interest in investing “clicks” in the process of contributing to a repository. Chris Rusbridge’s argument is the “negative-click” repository, a system that makes the process of getting material into the repository transparent (or nearly so) to the contributor.

It’s a laudable goal, but I’m not sure how one would, in practice, implement such a thing, since even the most transparent approach has a direct impact on workflow (the exact thing that most potential contributors appear not to want to mess with - they don’t want to change the way they work). The challenge is to create something that:

• Integrates with any workflow
• Involves no (or essentially no) extra activities on the part of the scholar
• Uses the data structure of the material to create the interrelations critical to really opening access
• Provides a visible and obvious value-add that can be explained without looking under the hood
• Is not just a wrapper on some existing tool

Interestingly, Rust’s blog entry hits on something Rusbridge suggests as a possible solution: the use of multiple, simple tools that talk to each other and form an emergent product, rather than a monolithic “repository software” package.

Here at IUP, we’re attempting to frame the repository’s mission as supporting the entire process of scholarly creation - a “scholarly workbench” approach - rather than simply as a glorified file server. I think that a set of modular tools - like Rusbridge and Rust propose, combining the best features of tools like SlideShare, blogging, wikis, etc. - could provide exactly that. Right now, scholars are using online tools to create, collaborate, and share their work - if that sort of experience can be reproduced (or perhaps “formalized” is a better term) in a way that layers transparently on top of a person’s existing work process it could be a powerful way to enhance participation in and attention to digital repositories.

What would such a system encompass? What would it need to provide? The answers are pretty much the same as any monolithic repository product:

Storage: the system (or aggregate) would need to store copies of the relevant digital object in such a way that it could be reliably retrieved by any user. Most any system - Writeboard, SlideShare, even wiki software have this capability.

Interoperation: the system would need to allow other systems to locate said material by hooks into the system. Many W2.0 applications allow access directly to their content via syndication.

Metadata: tagging is nearly universal across W2.0 applications - it’s how people find things, the classic “tag-based folksonomy” approach.

Sharing: again, this is the entire point of most W2.0 applications. It’s not fun if you can’t share stuff. Community is the goal of most of the common web applications.

Ease of use: typically, Web 2.0 applications are designed to get you up and running quickly. You do very little to establish your account, and there are no complex permissions or technical fiddling to be done.

Rust points out that he finds the tools are best when focused on one specific type of thing. SlideShare (the example he uses) is for slides. That’s what it’s best at. It maintains a focus. So, if one could create a mechanism by which information feeds bidirectionally between the various Web 2.0 tools*, a “modular repository framework” might look like:

• Blogger/Tumblr for blogging and informal discussion, plus
• Google Documents for collaborative authoring and storage, plus
• Muxtape/Flickr/SlideShare for audio, images, and slide sharing, plus
• Digg/StumbleUpon for tagging and interrelating digital objects, plus
• SVN / CVS for version control, plus
• Bloglines for automated updating and alerts regarding objects of interest

I’m sure I’ve missed a few cool tools. I also realize that the above may be possible, although I am not sure how one might feed data one-to-the-next in an automated fashion, which would be the ultimate goal. In other words, if I create, for example, a slide show and put it in SlideShare, I would want its data structure and content to automatically create tags and other metadata, and that information distributed (again, automatically) to the other components without intervention on my part. I want to create a thing, and have the thing drive the rest of the process.

Thoughts, comments, criticisms, outright dismissals?

I am, by dint of some technical know-how, a Master’s in Information Systems, and a perfidious streak of volunteerism, the Library’s lead person for the development of an institutional digital repository. We are relative latecomers to the game - many other higher-ed institutions already have some form of digital repository installed and running. In fact, we do too, although most of ours can be considered “beta” or “pilot” projects.

The project is closely integrated with university IT, who will provide the back-end support (one of the major steps forward over the pilot projects the library is currently running). We are currently considering software packages that could be used as repository installations (of which, according to Caveat Lector, none actually work), as well as considering user needs surveys, what faculty will actually want to do with the repository, how to market it, what my role will be when it’s established, and a host of other questions and concerns about repository setup.

The idea of a repository is fairly simple. The value of it is somewhat obvious to librarians (but deeply not so to nonlibrarians). The software packages are deceptively simple. But the biggest challenge may be mining the incredible amount of information and experience that’s already out there. Wish me luck.

The real gem of this Chronicle-by-way-of-ACRLog is a set of comments from Dr. Tim, who - completely apropos of nothing - lambastes the readership of the Chronicle, imploring them to avoid encouraging anyone to get an MLS while (it seems) rolling in deep piles of money from his medical practice, and regaling us with accounts of his take-home pay.

And, if he’s to be believed, that take-home pay is considerably more than my take-home pay.

Dr. Tim is a crazy diamond, and I hope he shines on.

But then again, I didn’t do this for the money. If I was interested in a job where money was made, I’d have gone into finance, accounting, or maybe organized crime. Seriously. This is not to say that I would avoid wealth were it to come my way (I’m not stupid, after all); likewise it is not to suggest that I haven’t drafted a detailed plan for what I’d do with my Powerball winnings. But I became a librarian because it interested me. I like libraries, even if they are always too stuffy and never cold enough. I fell into the field during a period of casting about for a real career path, and was taken in by it. And after a year or so in school, I began to see what librarianship could be - how it really is a teaching job, and how, despite having very little tolerance for the classroom setup, I actually do enjoy teaching.

Now, I make more now than what I made before. But that wouldn’t have mattered, really - it was a moderate step up when I got the job, but I’d have taken it regardless - it was something I wanted to do, a step into a whole new career, and it made me happy. I think I’m pretty good at it. I’d hazard a guess, too, that this is the reason why many librarians do what they do: it makes them happy, and it’s what they want.

And…I’ve lost the plot. I had a point here, and it escaped me. I’ll post this up, and if I remember where I was going with it, I’ll go there.

One thing about libraries is that they engender a lot of doomsaying, from people saying “it’s all on Google” to things like Ross Dawson’s “extinction timeline” (which predicts the end of libraries as we know ‘em by 2019). This is compounded (or, let’s say, “spiced up”) by the internal, bidirectional doomsaying: the young Turks are looking at previous ways of doing things and saying “with modern technology, that old stuff is work-intensive and inefficient,” while the old guard says, “your new ways have destroyed the soul of librarianship.”* In the midst of this conflict, both groups are saying to everyone else “but despite the fact that we can’t get along, libraries and librarians are important and will always be here, because that is how it will be!”

I’m a young turk, as some of my colleagues remind me (in fact, certain of them never miss a chance to remind me about the failings of my generation and our weak library training), and I think a lot of the “old ways” (like, using books, like, omigod) are inefficient or being outpaced by life (okay, I’m not actually including “using books” in the list of inefficiencies). If I were to list things that I would put in that category, I would include:

• traditional reference desks - unnecessarily restrictive
• fragmented collections - if we can share our catalogs, why are we not literally sharing collections?
• microform - good for preservation, bad for usability
• selection processes - ours, at least, is slow and lumpy

As you can see, it’s only a few things, although they have a pretty significant impact on “traditional” librarianship. Of course, I think a whole lot of modern innovations are lousy, too. I hate databases, for instance. Certainly, they’re great sources and much, much faster than poring through a print index to the literature, but they serve only to fragment a search further. I have to remember different syntax and search conventions for each one; there are no less than four different steps I have to confirm the library’s possession of an item; interfaces are user-surly; and I could probably name a dozen other complaints once I have one open in front of me.

So I’m an equal opportunity turk - old and new ways both suck sometimes.

But back to the topic at hand - in contrast to the typical “innovation and the continuing exponential growth and pervasiveness of information technology will render libraries obsolete and put librarians out of a job” that is often bandied about by librarians, business experts, and “visionaries” of various stripes, Thomas Hecker’s article “The Post-petroleum Future of Academic Libraries” (http://dx.doi.org/10.3138/jsp.38.4.183) puts a strange new spin on the topic. Instead of predicting the end of traditional libraries due to technological progress, he predicts the end of tecnological progress and the salvation of humankind by traditional libraries.

The essence of Hecker’s article is that we are about 20 years past the point of no return with regard to stopping the oil depletion downslope, and that when oil/petroleum depletion finally catches up to us, it will be a rude awakening: the information infrastructure that has built an economy and culture based on information, technology, and increasingly specific occupational niches will collapse in a thrashing heap. Higher education will go out the window, as people will be forced to produce their own food and goods; transportation and easy access to products will cease; 2/3 of the world population will die; and - relevant to what I do - libraries that had the “foresight” to not destroy their print collections will become hallowed halls of learning that can keep the human race from falling into a new Dark Age.

Hecker’s article is fascinating, and some of the points he makes are good - we are likely facing a crisis in energy, as we struggle to find alternatives to oil and fossil fuels. Some of those alternatives look much better on paper than in real life. And if the technology infrastructure we have has one major vulnerability, it’s that when the power goes out, everything e or i is history.

On the other hand, Hecker offers no solutions except “hang on” - we’re 20 years too late to halt the slide. He also seems to regard a return to the simpler days of working in the fields and hoeing the beans with some sense of satisfaction. This may be linked to the fact that it will vault academic libraries back into prominence as Speakers of the Law (or, at least, of the Knowledge), a position that academic libraries have not been in and are struggling to regain as information technology causes centralized information to diffuse into the general population. He references Roberto Vacca’s The Coming Dark Age, in which libraries form the core of a “new, secular monastic order” that will be not only the “guardians of culture but will also…be the interpreters of culture” (Hecker, 194) (by the way, this “guardian and interpreter” idea of librarians is something I find repellent; we are not, in my opinion, gatekeepers - nor should we be). Hecker agrees with some of Vacca’s concepts, but not the entirety - believing that academic libraries may mollify the extreme end of Vacca’s ideas.

Overall, I thought the article was interesting, if a little stylistically overwrought and tending toward a satisfied “I told you so” tone. Perhaps I am naive to think we will not collapse into neo-feudalism, or that our information age days are numbered.

I do hope I can be one of Vacca’s warrior-monks of information, though. That would rule.

-Out

* Of course, this is a sweeping generalization. There are numerous forward-thinking librarians who’ve been in the biz for years, and I’m sure plenty of youngsters who like the old ways. As I mentioned, I’m a bit of both. But it’s no fun if you can’t use sweeping generalizations.

North Carolina State University is one of a handful of colleges to set up virtual computer labs, where users enter it remotely, from their own computers in dormitory rooms or libraries. So if they need to use a 3-D modeling program for an engineering course, they can log into the virtual lab (a bank of servers in some room they’ll never see) from their laptop and use the program without even coming to campus. A free article in this week’s Chronicle outlines the university’s model, which is being emulated at other colleges.

Correct me if I’m mistaken, but isn’t what they are describing the way it used to be, lo these many years? Back before my time, when you connected to the mainframe from a dumb terminal and used the Large Box to conduct your work? Back in the days of the BOFH and root and while (1) fork();, when the jargon that fills the Jargon File was being coined?

Perhaps this is a good idea, of course - NCSU’s administrators seem to think so, and from personal experience expanding the capacity of any computer lab is a tremendous boon to students and faculty. Looks like what’s old is new again. It is not really a new idea - many things run remotely now. Consider any of the golden child social networking apps: where once social networking was based on chatrooms using AIM or IRC, it’s now a remotely hosted system that provides extensive interconnection, with no local overhead beyond that of a web browser.

I’m still amused, of course. Such things amuse me.

The post at The Shifted Librarian hit on something that’s puzzled/bothered me for a while now. It used to be that I was well out on the “early adopter” leading edge - I was probably the first kid at my college to actually figure out how to get onto the newly installed network (and do so several weeks before they’d planned the rollout); I bought computer equipment, palmtops, and cell phones as quickly as I could; I was happily engaged in email correspondence and web fora as soon as I learned what they were.

But lately, I seem to be wishing more and more that some of the new technologies would just git offa my lawn. In all seriousness, I’ve made a point of avoiding a number of the new social networking tools available, because frankly I couldn’t actually see a reason for them - what, for instance, does Facebook do? Why would I Twitter? And if you try to run a seminar in Second Life, please don’t invite me.

Upon reflection, a lot of my latent resistance to new things started after I became a Iibrarian, and began seeing how Things Are Done(TM) in libraryland. There’s a sense of traditionalism that is instilled, and it seemed to obstruct my interest in new technology gizmos for a while. I’ve felt a tremendous amount of guilt about not being well-versed in these tools, and a definite sense that I was therefore being a bad librarian.** I will also say that part of my resistance probably comes from no longer being the cool guy (or techno-nerd) with an inside line on how things work. Now that Twitter is for grandmas and housecats have blogs it’s hard to maintain my elite status.

Fixing it is easy, of course - just try them out. I’m using Facebook (as soon as the University approves the move, at least) to open another online avenue to our library, as well as connect with fellow faculty and colleagues. I’ve got blogs and wikis and such firmly in hand, and I…

…well, okay, I still haven’t figured out Twitter. It’s like short-attention span theater, or something.

* She says her name is Jenny, right there on the blog!

** No cookie!