Category: Uncategorised

Thinking about the relationship between content and containers immediately drew my mind to native advertising. Native advertising refers to sponsored content which is presented in the same typeface, layout, and tone as the rest of the content in the magazine, newspaper, website, etc. – the container in which it sits (Bakshi, 2015).

Although most people have encountered native advertising (an example is any sponsored Buzzfeed post), many people fail to recognize native advertising as advertising; instead, they identify it as an article (Lazauskas, 2015). Of the people in this study, 62% of respondents felt that a news site loses credibility when it publishes native ads (Lazauskas, 2015).

However, it’s not only that the website loses credibility when people figure out it has native ads. What’s more troubling is the fact that many people will mistake these ads for articles, which can lead to a lot of misunderstanding and a spread of false or biased information.

The blurred lines of between advertising and editorial content has not been without critique:

What interests me in native advertising is how the container can make content misleading. Its job is to blend visually and tonally into the container; however, by doing this, it disrupts the overall content and, seemingly, the authority or reputation of the publication.

 

There are entire websites devoted to instances when elements of the production of a film (which forms the container) accidentally appears in the final film (the content). I’m looking at you, MovieMistakes.com. More than a typo in a book, or broken code on a website, a visible mistake in a film – such as the reflection of a camera in a doorknob – is more uncanny. Why? My assessment is that film is ostensibly a more immersive medium, its artifice not being as apparent as a bunch of pages with ink on them, for example.

Here is a nifty video that outlines some of the intrusions of films’ productions within the film itself (caution: there is some PG-13-level gore in the scenes between 4:00-5:00 minutes in the Gladiator scenes):

Careful attention to detail during the shooting and editing phases is required to ensure these mistakes don’t take the viewer “out of the story.” And certain shots with mirrors become a bit of a technical hurdle when telling a story in film – think of all the shots that were never attempted or scraped because of worrying about the fourth wall being broken because of simple reflections.

Interestingly, in faux-documentaries TV shows like The Office and Arrested Development this intrusion is played with from time to time. Namely, there are running gags – or maybe you could just call them stylistic flourishes – of boom mics entering the frame, intentionally. So whereas mistakes in the films shown in the above clip are accidentally turned into content, those same mistakes are turned into content in those shows intentionally. The container and content become messily combined.

Bibliography

Screen Rant. “10 Movie Mistakes That Slipped Through Editing.” Online video. 11 July 2015. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_TWbD3MKfM. 10 March 2016.

My examples for this week’s discussion of blurring the line between content and container are less textual, or book-based, and more audiovisual, but still relate to the digital context. The first is from a documentary entitled “The Life and Times of Allen Ginsberg,” directed by Jerry Aronson. I studied this film for my Managing Audiovisual Materials course last summer, and while watching it I noted that the clips of video interview footage with Ginsberg himself are of very poor quality. At times, tracking lines or static lines (as us VHS kids are familiar with) would show up in the picture. I am unsure whether this was due to mismanagement in preservation or simply old age or a low-quality format, but in any case it was quite distracting for the viewer. I think this is a good example of the container superimposing itself onto the content, as it calls attention to the medium in a very obvious way.

Another example which is somewhat similar, but takes place in another medium, is the phenomenon of pages which lose quality after being photocopied, and then photocopied again, etc. I was reminded of this annoying phenomenon recently in my drawing class, when my teacher provided us with a copy of a photo which had clearly been used before, and recopied from a copy, as someone had drawn gridlines on it. While this issue can easily be avoided by keeping a clean master to copy from, it happens often. Both of these examples demonstrate the container showing up in the content in a negative way, and drawing attention to the processes behind the object’s creation. In fact, I would argue that it tells a sort of story about the life of the object, in terms of where it has been and how it has arrived at its current location.

The John Lennon song Working Class Hero features tonal changes at 0:10 and 0:30 sec (within the clip), which indicate the addition of a separate piece of music recorded in John Lennon’s home. In this release of the song the container and method of recording comes through in the poor transition between the two pieces of music due to poor editing and producing choices.

With personal recording becoming so easy and relatively cheap to do that it can be done on an app or an iPad musician and singers are able to produce and disperse music at an exceptionally fast rate, any where, any time. With good quality music production software and the potential for what can be created this method of music production is exploding.

Though new software creates great music quality does it mean the songs being recorded are any better? Without a professional eye it is much easier for amateurs to make production mistakes and a great deal of the art and finesse is lost (Pixelsound, 2016). I would argue that the digitization and ease of personal production of music can be likened to the movement from manuscripts to the industrialization of the printing press. As music production and books are modernized the craftsmanship is lost and with quick creation careless errors increase.

However I would also argue that these mistakes and mishaps are not all negative. From printing mistakes special issues are created and book history is made. Eventually these become sought after rare books for collections and can become apart of reader history. Can the same not be said for this issue of Working Class Hero. Songs can be endlessly re-recorded  and released and phones allow for live capturing of a song at concerts. This means a hundred versions of the same song can be found on the internet. The little eccentricities in a song make make it unique and can become apart of the songs history.

Furthermore the format in which a song is held- vinyl, CD or mp3- can impact the users experience with the song and that user may feel differently about the song in each format. The graininess of a song on vinyl may impact the user differently from a clear digital format. In this way the container of the song can make it more or less desirable and influence the listener.

Link to the segment of the song that features the tonal shift and other examples of producing mistakes at:

http://www.hometracked.com/2007/08/23/10-recording-bloopers-that-made-the-album/

Reference:

Pixelsound. (2016). How technology has changed the music recording  world…Forever. Retrieved from http://www.pixelsound.com/how-technology-has-changed-the-music-recording-world-forever.html

When I first thought about how I read, I was shocked to realize that I have not read a paper book in almost a year. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good paper book. The smell of a brand new book, the feeling of turning the page and seeing the progress I’ve made after spending an hour reading. But now that I actually think about how I read, I realized that I read everything from my iPad mini since I bought it last summer.

I originally purchased my iPad mini as a tool to be used for school work since my laptop is outdated, slow and really heavy. I bought it under the impression that I would use it to take notes, read assigned texts, and have on the go access to Google drive to make changes to projects wherever I was. This was the perfect solution to my laptop problem that would not break my back or my bank. When I purchased the iPad I was still reading my leisure books in print, and the iPad was used solely for academic purposes. But I eventually found audio books that I could download on my iPad, and now I could finish a book while completing quality assurance at my job at Scholars Portal. Then I realized I can also download e-books onto my iPad and have access to multiple books at once without carrying them around with me. Looking back, I think this was the tipping point for me in terms of turning from paper print to electronic (and audio) versions.

Thinking about why I moved from one format to the other, I realized it had a lot to do with my life style. I commute for a good 90-120 minutes everyday to get to and from campus for work or lectures. Since I spend almost all day on campus, I need to prepare a meal or two and haul it around with me all day. On top of this, I have a gym bag. When you add it all up, I am practically a pack mule. So when I realized that I can have my books, notes, readings, emails, etc., all in a compact iPad mini, I slowly stopped using paper. I still have some classes for which I prefer to hand write my notes, but for the most part, everything I read is off of a screen since I purchased my iPad mini.

As for the specific format, I use the GoodNotes app for downloading readings and lecture slides, and Overdrive for downloading all of my e-books and audio books. A friend of mine introduced me to both of these apps and I am really happy with them. GoodNotes allows you to highlight, add text and shapes directly into a document, and you can also export and import documents. I also have all of my documents categorized based on course, which makes it easy to find everything I need. GoodNotes also has thumbnail views making it really easy to move through a document. GoodNotes has been a great solution to bringing a laptop to lectures.

 

As much as I love using my iPad, I still miss paper books and I can see myself shifting back to using and buying paper books once my schedule is less hectic and I am less of a pack mule. Although it is very convenient to have everything I need on a devise, I have noticed that my eyes are beginning to hurt from all of the on screen reading I do.

 

My reading habits are actually fairly clear-cut since I almost always prefer print. It is possible that this is partly because I don’t own an e-reader, so perhaps I just don’t know what I’m missing out on, but that is the current state of the way I read. Pretty much the only reason I read on a screen is because of school and the scholarly articles we’re asked to engage with in our coursework (usually downloaded in PDF format which I hoard on my desktop as seen in figure 1).

 Figure 1. PDF

My preferred method of reading is still print, and I often find myself tracking down print versions of readings even when they are available online. The reason comes from the pretty mundane fact that reading on a screen really strains my eyes. Maybe it’s time for an eye exam, but in my experience this is a pretty standard complaint of folks regardless of whether they have perfect vision or glasses.

Preferring print has less to do with disliking the format or the features of the online article. I really enjoy the ease of annotating PDF texts, I find it incredibly easy to add sticky notes, bookmarks, and highlight and search the document (provided the text is compatible), which lends itself to a proactive style of academic reading. If I suspend my disbelief and imagine a world where reading on a screen doesn’t hurt my eyes I think I would prefer to read scholarly articles in this format anyway. This is due to the necessity of engaging with them with a more in depth manner than reading other types of material and therefore the aforementioned ease of the annotation process. Thus the environment and style of reading reflects the content, as I could never imagine taking my laptop to the park to casually read a novel.

However even when I am reading scholarly articles, I still miss the  tactility that goes along with reading print. I believe that the physicality of reading is a big part of how we experience and internalize the information we take in while reading. The ease of rifling through pages and getting a tangible sense of what you are dealing with, creates a sense of control and understanding of a document as an entity. I often find myself losing my place and having a tough time referring back to pages in the PDF format. That being said, it saves my desk from becoming even worse of a mess than it already is!

The other type of “reading” I do on screen is via the consumption of images through social media on my iPhone. I will occasionally happen upon an article (for example, a news article – not so different from a scholarly article in terms of content and length) I actually wish to read, in which case I’ll hop on my laptop and read it there so that the text is larger and more visible (I realize I’m starting to sound seriously elderly here). I suppose in some regards it comes down to the length of the text. I can handle reading an article on my laptop because I know it won’t be extremely long, so its feels like a feasible thing to stick out. I can’t imagine trying to read an entire book off a laptop screen without my eyes drying up completely.

I am aware that some e-reader screens offer a slightly different experience that is not supposed to strain your eyes in quite the same way. I could perhaps get used to reading in that format, but because I grew up reading books in the traditional sense, the process of reading and enjoying reading is not just a mental and emotional experience but deeply physical.

Reading is something I separate into two spheres: serious/academic and pleasure. I thought the way I read was straightforward, but this week I really took the time to examine why I stick to certain habits when it comes to reading. As a child, learning to read (which started at age three) became synonymous with school. I remember my dad sitting with me and My First Primer mouthing the words as I spelled and learned to pronounce the letters and syllables. Repetition was key to learning how to read and write, I’d have copybooks full with words written over and over.

 

When examining how I read today, I realized that I exhibit some of those same principles. For academic reading I prefer a physical copy. I like highlighting important points, asking questions, and summarizing points in the margin for ease of reference when I write my papers. Spatial recognition is key for me when reading and writing. When I read the physical copy of a book or article, even if I don’t remember a point I can recall it by remembering the layout of the page and where points are situated on it.

When I study for exams I rely on this method as well. I take all my notes electronically throughout the term, but when preparing for final exams, I write everything out on flash cards. My memory recall is tied to the actions of copying and writing things down.

If I print out my notes and read them repeatedly I tend not to recall what I just read. I believe that the way I learned to read and write has bearing on the way I process information at this stage of my life.

I do most pleasure reading electronically. While I love holding the physical book in my hands (I’m pretty particular with my books, I don’t even crack the spine when I read!) the convenience of reading on my phone, Kindle, or Nexus tablet wins out. It is a lot more convenient to have my books electronically than have multiple bulky books in my backpack or purse. I don’t need to make extensive notes and portability is the main reason for reading on a screen. I rely on public transportation, so space is also an issue. It is easier to immerse myself into the universe of the book when I’m not fighting for elbow room or standing room. Reading a physical book isn’t conducive when standing, turning the page becomes difficult and often impossible. However, what I find interesting about reading on a device is that it is an isolating experience. Previous to e-readers, I could look at what a person was reading and if it looked interesting, ask them what the book was about. People love talking about their favorite authors and their books. Now, such a task is impossible. You never know what people are reading and the act of reading has become a personalized, isolated experience like those of the monks cloistered in the monastery.

Photo: Author’s bookshelf (one). 

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I am a bibliophile through and through, and for me this still means good ol’ paper books. This past year we moved into a space about double our previous bachelor apartment, and for the first time, we are able to house all of our books on numerous shelves covering each and every wall. We have relatively the same number of books, it’s just that in the past they were piled in stacks – on chairs, on the floor, on top of shelves already two-books deep…we still have that now, although the volume we’ve been able to accommodate has greatly increased (finally, no more books in boxes in a basement somewhere!). Despite some of the impracticalities of owning this many books, I am proud of our personal library, and cherish it deeply. Being able to find and afford enough space to be surrounded by our favourite books took time and effort, and yet it was of huge significance to us – books make a space feel like home. In this case, wallpapering the walls of our house, surrounding us constantly, our shelved books do become a sort of furnishing, a part of the house itself. So, where am I going with this and how does it relate to reading? Perhaps it is my absolute love of paper books that has led me to ignore digital books and e-readers. I don’t want to get into a reductive argument here about the relative value of either medium – as has been said time and again, it’s not productive, nor is it particularly stimulating. I don’t feel a sense of bibliophilic superiority, or some kind of proud technophobia or ludditeism. I simply can’t really be bothered. Sometimes, my lack of basic awareness and understanding of e-books can actually make me feel out of touch and behind the times (see last week’s blog post). For the most part though, I just don’t think about them – they aren’t a part of my reading ecology. I believe one of the reasons for this that I have touched on before is partly to do with physicality – not simply during the act of reading, but also books as objects themselves. There is a presence that is missing in what John Maxwell calls this “website in a wrapper” (39). Something in me rebels against them. When I began considering what, if anything, I actually did consume on a screen, all that came to mind is what I ‘read’ on the screen of my phone. Again, I have ‘read’ in scare quotes here because, like Andrew Piper said, I’m unsure if I can in fact call this ‘reading’ (46). Checking emails, perusing social media, glancing through online articles…all of this is something; I’m just not sure what? I don’t associate these activities with the same quality as reading a book. They are fleeting, less important interactions, more about pure, quick consumption, forgotten almost as soon as it is taken in. I print off anything that I might need to read for my classes, and perhaps in a related fashion, I still take all my notes by hand.

To be honest, I haven’t been especially reflexive before regarding my preference for printed books. As something that works for me, I’ve sort of just gone with it. I am aware that as a soon-to-be librarian, it would be helpful for me to have a better understanding of what e-books are, how they work, and why others do like to read them – if only as basic sound professional practice. I guess if I consider it, a lot of my reading habits and preferences do come down to an issue of presence and absence. When I am at home, I can look up at my books, I can gesture to them during conversation, pull one down, lend it out, put it aside for later, or place it somewhere for special consideration (my bedside table is the space for the honoured ‘book (or five) of the moment’). Come to think of it, a large part of my reading practices seem to be informed by this spatial hierarchy of meaning, by being able to manipulate books as objects in space (on a macro level), and on a micro level, being able to manipulate pages within them. I never annotate books when I read them, the most I might do is sticky note pages I want to return to. Still, knowing how far the section I’m reading is from the start or end, what the visual markers are, all of this helps me to imprint pages in my memory, to hold onto them. The covers of books, the tone and quality of their paper, the feel of them in my hand, these things help me navigate my surroundings and feel at home while reading. I always laugh when people describe the benefits of travelling with an e-reader, as it provides you with an immense array of reading options, and takes up so little space. Both my partner and I have been known to carry upwards of three and four books with us at a time (on trips whose lengths certainly don’t warrant that much reading material). Again, for us, this is okay. We don’t mind sacrificing the space. It’s worth it. Part of this silly, uncompromising stubbornness in the face of technological options makes me realize, just maybe, why I still prefer to read how I do – because it feels good. At some basic level, reading in this way gives me pleasure, and despite attempts, reading electronically just doesn’t compare.

References:

Maxwell, John W. (2013). E-book logic: We can do better. Papers of the Bibliographical Society of Canada. 51 (1): 29-47.

Piper, Andrew (2012). Turning the page (roaming, zooming, streaming). In Book was there: Reading in electronic times (pp. 45-61). Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.