Beware of the blog

Anyone looking for a snapshot of the way digital communication is accepted (or not) as a viable part of the traditional scholarly process should hie, forthwith, to Ulises Ali Mejias’s discussion on his Ideant blog: “The Blog as Dissertation Literature Review?” and a followup post.

Mejias is a doctoral candidate specializing in education and technology, so it’s quite understandable that he chooses to ponder the academic value of social software on his blog. And the payoff is vivid: he draws two critical comments from the authors of the article he most engages, “Scholars Before Researchers: On the Centrality of the Dissertation Literature Review in Research Preparation” (2005).

The argument is lively enough — mercifully light on eduspeak — and I won’t spill cyberink retracing it completely. Mejias thinks about the function of that fine old ground-clearing of dissertations, the literature review, and argues for the efficacy of doing it within the framework of a blog. Why? Blogs are dynamic, flexibly tended and amended, self-catagorizable, dynamic, widely accessible, and open to (please can’t this word die?) feedback. Moreover, bibliographic lists can be interlinked with critical assessments of their worth (as Mejias demonstrates).

The responses of the two authors of the study that Mejias cites throughout the post, a librarian and a professor, are fascinating.

The librarian deplores the slippage of standards — she seems most exercised that she was not properly cited in Mejias’s post, but she also airs concerns that a digital environment is too unfixed — To fulfill the role and purpose of a dissertation, the literature review by nature is temporally bound and must reflect the work of an author at some point in time — and too open to comment and reaction from beyond the walls of academe — Who is his audience? Do they have the requisite authority to vet his work? By definition, a doctoral student’s peers are his or her fellow doctoral students, yet a doctoral candidate is writing for academicians to gain acceptance into their community. The heart of scholarly publication is review of the work by recognized authorities in the field.

What stands out for me here is this respondent’s treatment of a blog as uniquely uncontrollable — as if parameters of audience, commenting permissions, and posting timeframes were beyond anyone’s control. Sure, many a prof will resist spending the time it takes to learn about a new communication technology and how it can be adapted for traditional ends (that’s not yet what rewards professors), but this resistance to digital communication should not be confused with the defense of standards. Here is what seems like a promising recipe for dissertation literature evaluation to me: a blog bundled with citational management software, with levels of access and commentary defined, and — we’re dreaming here — integration with next-gen citation indexes and visualization tools. Who would argue that a broad discussion with a thesis advisor about core texts, pertinent categorization, and the scope and value of outside “feedback” would not be a fine way to kick off a dissertation project?

The professor respondent engages in some higher level handwringing: he rues that Mejias seems to be writing off the ‘social’ reach of traditional scholarship. As I think about my own graduate education and beyond, I see much of the same activity you claim to be novel on your blog – I drafted and circulated manuscripts for classes and colloquia, I presented papers at conferences large and small, I sent my papers to experts in my fields, and I submitted them to journals for review. Along the way I developed my ideas and, if I was lucky, got critical feedback on them. (Technologies come and go, but it seems we’re forever stuck with feedback. ) It’s a shame, this professor suggests, that grad students only imagine themselves as writing just for a dissertation committee, rather than contributing to broader endeavors, and squandering whatever faith they may have in social dynamics into blogs: I accept the possibility that blogging may help novice scholars and researchers as they seek to become socialized in their field. But I will assert that blogging, by itself, is nowhere near sufficient for this purpose.

Of course, Microsoft Word (or, to frame this in parallel, word processing) is nowhere near sufficient for that purpose either — yet I suspect many poor grad students use this tool to assemble elements of their dissertation. I fail to understand how an advance in organization and dissemination — in content management — turns into a true threat to scholarly standards. I’m under 40 (not by much, but still), yet I can remember typing college papers (now mouldering in some box) by hand, and researching my dissertation by writing reams of notes (now mouldering in some box) by hand. I can also remember the long lines outside a superstar professor’s office — the hurried and sometimes random consultations — the way one’s fate is held hostage by overloaded advisors.

Who would seriously begrudge a better way to store, retrieve, and air ideas? Is the process of writing a dissertation not bolstered by reaction from other scholars online, from peers at one’s stage of development, from Aunt Tillie in Florida who is the world’s last opponent of the dangling participle? Do advisors really believe that their hold on students is so tenuous that mere statistics — page views, machine-counted citations — and outside exposure will debilitate their control of a project? Is the portability of a student’s research into future assemblages of material for teaching and beyond-the-diss projects not worth consideration? Distributed learning and evaluation is barreling down the pike (see, for example, Biology Direct interesting peer review process – the subject of a future post). Do we really want to discourage students from acclimating to such an environment?

I’ll climb off today’s soapbox with a nod to that workhorse library term, the “crosswalk.” Just as efforts like METS tries to usher MARC bibliographic standards into a more digital friendly metadata scheme like DC, educational technologists, professors, and librarians need to define certified crosswalks between the traditional apparatus of scholarship and the blessings of digital publication.

Will Mejias get credit for sparking a dialogue so intrinsic to scholarship? Only if the credit-givers look at blogs — and accept the possibility.

CiteI’dLike

If you were to invent del.icio.us for academics, how would it work? It would allow for bookmarking, tagging, and sharing. It would pull metadata from academic resource databases. It would allow me (the layprof) to organize collected essays and citations with a minimum of clickage. And it would do all these things in a browser, from on or off campus, independent of platform. In short, it would be quite like CiteULike.

This is a little story about my first pass into CiteULike, and if it’s not entirely a happy story, we should still bear in mind the possibilities, the promise, the 2.0ness of it all.

I abjectly learned about CiteULike just recently (designed by Richard Cameron over a year ago). Sitting through some screencasts made by Tannis Morgan at UBC , I saw how this social bookmarking tool could be useful not only as a way to track journal contents, specifically tagged articles, and other academics’ bookmarks — through RSS — but also as a means to build a library of collected resources — available anywhere and to all.

Holy digital hotness! said I. I’ll try it for myself! And here’s where minor chords start to well up in the background.

Creating an account on CiteULike was childsplay; in ten seconds I was ready to bookmark and collect. Stunned a bit by the possibilities, and revived a bit by narcissism, I decided to start a collection with articles I’ve written. Tough luck, bucko. Though CiteULike offers to browse through some 6500 journals, this roundup doesn’t include the ones that have sponsored my thoughts. In fact, many of the journals seem to be science-related. As ever, the humanist is the redheaded stepchild of resource sharing ventures.

That’s ok, said I. I’ll find some article that’s at least in my field. I saw that Nineteenth-Century Contexts was one of the proffered journals, and scanning a recent edition I saw listed an article about Mary Shelley by Diane Long Hoeveler. Very good, said I. I’ll collect that:

Two links offered to let me ‘view the article online’. Excellent idea! But these links led me to publisher sites, one of which offered a “free sample,” the other demanded $33.67 plus tax. Much disturbing mention of shopping carts. This will never do, said I. Since I am off campus, what I seem need is a way for CiteULike to create paths into Bowdoin’s collections.

So I added the citation to the mysterious Hoeveler article to my own collection, tagging it in the process. Only one-word tagging, please.

A couple of cool features to notice here: I (or anyone) can track my collection through RSS. And metadata from this collection can be gussied up for EndNote with just one click (note how my tags turned into keywords in this EndNote record):

But the problem remained: how to actually connect to the article? I dug around in CiteULike’s FAQs and felt more assured that offcampus proxy access to articles would make those shopping carts disappear. For this functionality, CiteULike pointed me to a COinS Browser Extension written by Dan Chudnov at Yale .

In order to install this little extension, I had to first install Greasemonkey in my Firefox browser — not too difficult, but, trust me, we’ve lost the layprofs by now. The COinS extension allowed me to designate my own institution’s OpenURL resolver, and plug that resolver into OpenURL links now ‘discovered’ in my browser. That way, theoretically, one could click on a resource link on any site and actually access that resource through one’s own institution. You can see this in action here: note the new link that invites me to “Check availability @ Bowdoin”.

But, alas, here’s what happened to me when I clicked that invitation to check availability@Bowdoin:

Note that none of the metadata for the article has been passed through except for the article’s date. At this point I had neither the time nor the skill nor the patience to figure out where the glitch was; I only knew that I was off campus and out of luck accessing an article I found on CiteULike.

Never give up, I told myself. With one last bit of inspiration, I decided to see whether the little bookmarklet that CiteULike distributes (“Post to CiteULike”, rather like del.icio.us’s “Remember this” bookmarklet) would work going the other way. That is, suppose I’m signed into Bowdoin’s databases, and I run across an article I’d like to post onto the CiteULike. That’s just a click of the button, right?

The FAQs warn me that automatic metadata export into CiteULike would only occur with supported databases, which are: AIP Scitation, Amazon, American Geophysical Union, American Meteorological Society, Anthrosource, Association for Computing Machinery (ACM) portal, BMJ, Blackwell Synergy, CiteSeer, HighWire, IEEE Xplore, IngentaConnect, IoP Electronic Journals, JSTOR, MathSciNet, MetaPress, NASA Astrophysics Data System, Nature, PLoS Biology, PubMed, PubMed Central, Science, ScienceDirect, SpringerLink, Usenix, Wiley InterScience, arXiv.org e-Print archive. (See what I mean about the humanities?) Well, JSTOR seemed my best bet, so I rooted around in Bowdoin’s library site until I found an article on Mary Shelley in JSTOR. Here was one from ELH: “Narratives of Seductions and the Seductions of Narrative: The Frame Structure of Frankenstein” (Ok I see what you mean about the humanities).

When I clicked my bookmarklet to Post to CiteULike, here’s what happened:

Hmm…. that really didn’t take the drudge out of drudgery, did it? I mean, yes, some barebones metadata is passed through, but all to the title field; I have a fair amount of tending, cutting, and pasting to do if I want this to be a real citation. If I feel like more work, I can download a PDF version of the article to my computer, then upload it into CiteULike so I can privately retrieve the article wherever I am. I can’t share the full text with other Mary Shelley aficionados, though: they have to try their own luck tunneling into their own publisher-paying institutions. Otherwise, you know, that’d be stealing.

I believe wholeheartedly that around the world, from within and without institutional walls, academics are happily collecting and sharing resources with CiteULike. I can see this happening minute by minute on the home page:

But at least right here & right now, I can’t fully play. And I feel swamped by “everyone”. How many of “everyone’s” tags link to articles I can understand, much less evaluate and collect?

Once the mechanics were ironed out, this would be my next wish for CiteULike: the creation of discipline-based communities, so I could track the tags of colleagues pondering British literature — and feel less intimidated by clustering geophysicists.

Parse the farce

Did you find last night’s State of the Union speech unwatchable? Try looking at it another way. Once again, style.org offers a nice way to visualize the spin: the State of the Union Parsing Tool. Enter in a couple of terms and see maps of their occurrence across all of Bush’s SOTUs. Compare a Bush SOTU against ones by Washington, Lincoln, Reagan, and Clinton.

To get you started, here’s a screenshot of Bush’s SOTUs mentioning Iraq (red) and oil (blue). Click on it to visit the tool, and then try tracking your own terms:

SOTUs visualization

What this tool won’t do is tell you how often assembled lawmakers hauled themselves out of their chairs for standing ovations. But some things are best left unvisualized.

Teen creators

The latest Pew Internet & American Life study of teenagers and their online habits (“Teen Content Creators and Consumers”) has been out since November, so in our speedy echosphere it qualifies as old news. But I see that this report is getting cited at ALA Midwinter, particularly during the OCLC-sponsored meditation on library “extreme makeovers.” And in its blunt, schematic fashion, based on interviews with over 1,000 kids, the Pew report makes some claims that are well worth keeping in mind.

The study’s headline finding is that 57% of teens online (that is, over half of all kids aged 12-17 in the continental U.S. living in a household with a telephone) have actually created content in some way for the internet. What entails creation?

  • creating & maintaining a blog (19%)
  • creating a personal webpages (22%)
  • creating a webpage for others (32%)
  • sharing their creations online (33%)
  • remixing content online into new creation (19%)

This is moving and intriguing information, of course, and so is this particular chart from the Pew report:

The desire to share self-created media seems to be remarkably universal here: note how gender, age, and income differentials don’t make much of a difference. The only real distinction is in locale. You might think that more isolated teenagers (in the country, in the suburbs) might want to interact online all the more, but actually creative content generation depends on broadband access to the “highly wired” environments that highly wired teens respond to.

The question that I’m sure is been being pondered in San Antonio: how do libraries, highly wired as they are, respond to all this burbling creativity? When academic libraries confront this netgen 2.0 digicultivated fill-in-your-tagline-here generation, how is that meeting of the worlds handled?

If sternly, if pedantically, if methodically: get ready for slack jaws (“With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, / Agape they heard me call…”). If there is no personal space designated, no playpen, no peer to peer connection, no manipulation of digital objects: get ready for glazed eyes. Your most careful demonstration of how to search a database, your most elaborately crafted pathfinder for a course, your most heartfelt testimony to the conveniences of unlimited access to a universe of resources: none of this will tap into the interactive instincts charted by Pew.

Case in point: suppose you’re a library and you ‘get it’ and you set up a blog — latest happenings in your library, any comments? Not enough. Though a good third of teens read blogs regularly (and remember that a fifth of them are actually writing them), don’t think that just publishing a library blog is enough: “for teens,” Pew finds, “blogs are much more about the maintenance and extension of personal relationships.” If it’s too hard to think about an academic library coming into “personal relationship” with its users, perhaps one might consider hosting and featuring personal blogs, integrating with the college’s file-sharing networks, encouraging personal collections of assets, becoming the space identified with creative and personally-motivated digital work.

I’ve heard much heralding of tech-savvy teens, a rising generation weaned on IM and blogs and cellphones and music ripped from everywhere. So I’ve always been amused by the hesitancy and sometimes outright consternation that can greet the introduction of something like a wiki at a univeristy. It’s not that kids don’t find an interactive tool like that easy to use after a while, even second nature. It’s that they don’t expect it there.

We’re at an awkward stage, when the sophisticated interactive techniques and attitudes cultivated in a kid’s ‘real’ life are somehow supposed to get checked at the academic door. On the other side of that door: directed attention … traditional communication … passivity. I’m painting in broad strokes of course, but I think it’s nonetheless broadly true — if you want kids to make something of the educational resources through which they swim, if you want them to energize their study with the habits charted by Pew, rework the class to require interactivity, and rebrand the library as the place to create.

s.tag.gering towards

If the idea of faceless hoards organizing the web’s pro/con/fusion in absolutely uncontrolled fashion gets you hot, or bothered, or both, this article on folksonomy by Marieke Guy and Emma Tonkin in the latest issue of D-Lib is worth a look. It’s a nice rundown of behavior on those 900-pound gorillas of social tagging sites, del.icio.us and Flickr.

As they sift through the ways taggers converge or fail to converge, Guy and Tonkin emphasize a core debate: to control or not to control – or, as they put it, “whether it is preferable to have popular (but perhaps not intuitively obvious) tags, or to have a larger spread of relatively uncommon tags, possibly representing more accurate reflections or a wider spread of points of view.”

And here I’m swaying in the breeze. I’m convinced by Clay Shirky when he defends variation in a large-scale tagging environment -

[Varying] terms actually encode different things, and the assertion that restricting vocabularies improves signal assumes that that there’s no signal in the difference itself, and no value in protecting the user from too many matches…. If there is no shelf, then even imagining that there is one right way to organize things is an error.

Sure, “film” is not “movie,” “gay” differs from “homosexual,” and God is in the details. But then I look at the stupid ways that tags can differ (misspellings, differing cases, different ways of connecting two words together, various transcoding of alphabets) and, well, you get the picture….


The new D-Lib article makes several interesting observations about tagging behavior that ameliorates Babylonian handwringing, though, such as

  • only 10 to 15 percent of the tags they sampled were single-use tags: taggers do tend to play together
  • social tagging services can and do foster ‘best practices,’ such as listing tags used by others, suggesting synonyms and plural constructions, designating an underscore as the best way to group words
  • ‘tag bundling’ has emerged as a way to create hierarchical folksonomies, a natural extension of compound tags
  • Unicode adoption will tighten up character standardization

Guy & Tonkin strike a nice balance — recognizing the benefit of a natural evolution of tagging, rather than ordained proscription, yet tracking the dangers of incoherency. They underscore that tagging serves two very different functions: personal organization, and collective interchange. The tension between these two functions is what gives this activity its kick.

When I think about how I use these social tagging sites, it seems to me that self-definition and outward discovery are very much at work, sometimes against each other: here is my portfolio of tags (my ‘narrative’, as the alchemical muser might put it), my unique collection: who coincides with me? what are the portfolios of those who share tags with me, anyway? where might they lead me? We read to identify (become more ourselves) even as we’re exploring (losing ourselves). Tagging, along with much networked activity, extends this familiar double-impulse into the social sphere of publication, scrambling the old divisions between authoring and reading.

Understanding optimal conditions for metadata ecologies will take time. Are tags, in the end, most powerful when they’re created by heterogeneous masses? Or are they more useful to a pre-defined group — one that shares a language, an interest, a project, a field of study? And what kind of prompts or suggestions or rules (if any) might further nurture this sudden, populist upsurge of categorizing? Open-ended publication of tags is a great beginning — just do it and see what happens — but, inevitably, harnessing all this new activity is what will help us better read ourselves.

Monocles, manacles, and yes, The New Yorker

When I unwrapped The Complete New Yorker this Christmas, I was so grateful to my sister. Here was a complete, 80-year archive of one of the few magazines I’ve subscribed to and avidly read down through the years. There is something so irrationally satisfying in knowing that you have full access to a treasure-trove like that — in believing that any half-remembered story, any quirky illustration, any lumbering old ad, any suburban-sophisticate take on a given 20th-century phenomenon is now all yours, just a few keystrokes away.

I couldn’t quite square this possessive exultation with the knowledge that any decent library offers its patrons access to an infinitely wider array of human expression and documentation, also just a few keystrokes away. I ended up chalking it up to the unique aura of The New Yorker — the illusions it has so longed sustained of subjectivity, possession, discrimination, privilege — an aura that had me maintaining my subscription even through the Tina years. Somehow, it seemed right that this content would be walled off from Proquestian aggregation, left a world unto itself and thus bestowed.

That said… The Complete New Yorker has proven to be one difficult world to navigate. Others have elaborately deplored its software: it inflicts an uncustomizable user interface, and seems hellbent on preventing you from doing anything with these files besides flipping through indifferently scanned pages. Thinking about extracting that poem by Louis Gluck? Think again: it’s forever pinned to that Peugeot ad. Wanting to finally read that long Rachel Carson essay? Quit hunting for a ‘printer-friendly’ version: there ain’t none. Hoping to play with a Charles Addams cartoon? Well, print out its page and color it in with crayons, because that’s about all you’re allowed to do. This lock-down of content into its original context might seem like an endorsement of situationalism, and might stoke some cultural studies, but it’s really about copyright law, and it severely limits the possibilities of this archive in a digital environment.

Worse yet, you can’t even load the whole thing onto your computer; the files cannot be copied to your hard drive — they’re stuck, instead, on eight DVDs. That means that if you wish to jump around chronologically, the search screen will constantly command you to insert a different disk. Put one into your trusty Powerbook, and sit back for a spirited little tune I like to call the Eustace Shuffle. You might wish to pour yourself a scotch while you wait. Roaming through The Complete New Yorker is indeed evocative of a bygone era, but that era is the one when you had to load several floppies sequentially to install a program, and who misses those days? It’s no wonder that information has started appear on how to disable this crippleware and actually get the files you bought (or, in my case, your sister bought you) onto your computer and freely accessible.

My biggest quarrel, though, is with the sad, sad search functionality. Let’s take a look at some of the “search tips,” shall we?

The search does not search the complete text of articles. I see. Really? Wow. That’s why my search for “Shelley Winters” today turned up exactly zero snarky Pauline Kael references. It did direct me (shuffle shuffle shuffle) to a long Renata Adler piece on Martin Luther King (and having glanced through that piece, I still have no idea why). And it did point me to a Talk of the Town about Yoo-Hoo, that sublime chocolate drink…. RIP, Shelley. You deserved better.

The Complete New Yorker searches for Shelley Winters

The New Yorker has been consistent in its keywording over the years, even as vocabulary has evolved. Therefore, articles about cars are filed under “Automobiles,” boxers under “Prizefighters,” and World War II under “Second World War.” Each article abstract will display the list of matching keywords as well. Use these exact words to search for related articles. You may copy these words from the abstracts and paste them into the search bar. Ok! Got it! I’m ready to punch my way through keywords like a prizefighter – so where is the thesaurus? I guess I should be assembling it bit by bit, noting matching keywords and painstakingly collecting them, like automobile rations during the Second World War.

The search finds all matching terms in an item’s abstract, keywords, and titles, and caption. It will not, however, search authors, departments, years, or issue date. Those may be selected in the windows above. Well, I’ll be hogtied and googled. Am I in the wrong field? Have I always been in the wrong field? Is an author name not a key word? Is that old hunt for Martin Amis screwing up my results down here? And about those abstracts — why do some items have them, some don’t? Why are they so, well, various? Some seem to be the first few paragraphs of a piece, others seem to be garrulous summations.

Search terms like “or” and “and” will be ignored. Quotation marks will be also be ignored. I see. So my query

“very” and “lame” or “incredibly” and “lame”

is out of the question. That’s fine — ignore it. Boolean’s so very … Atlantic Monthly ….

Yes, well, perhaps, and evidently: searching is destined to be a felicitous capricious fluttering business in the rich little world of The Complete New Yorker. Still and all, I’m glad I own it. You just never know what might flutter by.

Looming clouds

Last summer (yes it was once summer) I wrote a bit about TagCloud — a nifty folksonomy visualization tool. When the MetaMuser mentioned this app recently, I took another look and decided to see how websites I visit might cloud together.

Which is a convoluted way of announcing ClayfoxClouds – wherein three groups of RSS feeds (library-related feeds, news feeds, and blogs-I-like feeds) converge into 75 tags each. Here’s a picture of tonight’s harvest:

The library-related and news-related tags (top, middle) do tend to group up a bit, while the blogs-I-like tags (on the bottom) tend to straggle individually — a reflection of the scattered nature of my recreational surfing, perhaps. In any case, automated harvesting is hardly a science; since TagCloud is not drawing from any standardized metadata, the occurrence of certain terms can seem arbitrary or trivial. Or unnecessary … pizza queen, anyone?

I’ll add more feeds into the mix as I run across them, who knows what tags will emerge — or, once clicked, where they will lead. If they lead nowhere, keep in mind that TagCloud is beta.

So go ahead, head into the clouds.

So we gather

Fresh outta Norway, here’s an intriguing marriage of wikis, folksonomy, and metadata harvesting: meet Collib, an experiment launched by a student at the University of Tromsø.

The idea here: records are harvested from OAI-PMH-compliant repositories and brought into the wiki. Users – now end-users of these records – then ‘tag’ them in the wiki. Presumably, discussion can ensue – though in my tour of the wiki today, I’m not seeing such discussion.

Let’s take a peek at a tagged record:

Collib tagged record

The record is in the middle of the screen, and Collib user tagging is on the right. Note that further tagging is always possible, ala Flickr. The original record and other indexing services are also linked (no guarantees, though, that you’ll find the item actually indexed elsewhere).

In the nav bar on the left: “Untagged records” are helpfully grouped together, awaiting end-user angels to tag them. The relationship of “Subjects” and “categories” is a bit of mystery to me. And I wonder who gets to stipulate which repositories are being harvested.

From browser to collector

Of the several new tools under development discussed at ARL’s lively symposium on Managing Digital Assets in Washington last week, none seemed simpler in concept, or more likely to be popular in practice, than “Firefox Scholar,” an IMLS-funded initiative underway at George Mason University (details here).

The idea is to grab metadata for digital resources with a single click in the browser; this metadata can then be stored, annotated, manipulated in whatever way is useful to the user. It’s now a truism that user-driven organization is an important component of what too many people are calling the Web 2.0. Much of this involves using the web as a platform for personally mixed components – bringing recontextualized assets into what 2.0-ers like to call “rich play.”

Firefox Scholar takes it as a given that most research is happening in browsers (that would be less controversial if we amended their claim to most electronic research), and the browers should be the place to grab and store citation metadata and make annotations – rather than standalone applications like MS Word or EndNote. The hope is that converging the spaces of discovery and note-taking will “greatly enhance the usefulness of, and the great investment of time and money in, the electronic collections of museums and libraries.”

What’s particularly promising about this is that all of this metadata harvesting and self-cataloguing happens on the client side. It’s easy to then imagine peer-to-peer interactions, based on similarly tagged items or asset-based subscriptions.

firefox

Going electric

Electronic paper? Sounds oxymoronic, but this phenomenon a-borning could make the thought of e-books and e-newspapers more bearable.

A description of E Ink’s new electronic ink display describes it as “somewhat like a miniaturized Etch-a-Sketch based on electricity, instead of magnetism.” Once the high-contrast, thin, flexible surface is “printed,” it needs no further power to maintain the image — thereby requiring 99% less energy than LCDs.

E Ink electronic ink display scheme

E Ink isn’t alone; Fujitsu has also developed “film-substrate-based bendable color electronic paper with an image memory,” the company announced last summer. Their product should come to market in 2007.

And what would we use electronic paper for? Portable displays, of course – but also for menus, manuals, retail price displays — any kind of posted, quickly-changing information. Like, for instance, the definition of paper.

E Ink demo of electronic paper sign