I think one of the more interesting aspects of Pattern Recognition is Cayce’s sensitivity to trademarks and brand names. Cayce both transcends the advertising world and is a victim of it. She is so affected by these symbols that they become something she must avoid (not exactly what advertisers have in mind!). However, the footage is something entirely different. Gibson makes a definite distinction between “art” and “non-art,” for lack of a better term. The Michelin Man (non-art) nauseates Cayce, but she is obsessed with the footage, which is original, mysterious, intriguing, and beautiful (what we think of as art), and the footage doesn’t ask anything of its viewers (i.e., “buy me!”). I find it fascinating that Cayce evolves from a “cool hunter” (what high school kid invented that term?) to eventually trying to protect Nora’s art. In Gibson’s world, art appreciation seems to be a sub-culture (as Bigend refers to it as), though a growing sub-culture, according to the F:F:F discussion board’s popularity, that is either protected from commercialization, or becomes a part of it.

But when it is revealed that the Russians have their very own production-line type operation set up around Nora (whether she approves or not), this idea of “protection” is complicated. To me, the conclusion of Pattern Recognition isn’t satisfying at all because we never learn what happens to Nora. I’m assuming from Stella’s email that she will continue to produce footage, but as far as whether or not it will be branded is left unclear. Actually, the ending is suspiciously neat and tidy for every character (even annoyingly neat and tidy for Cayce—I’m recognizing a pattern here of female characters being fine with not knowing where their fathers have disappeared too…Calamity Physics, anyone?), with the exception of Nora. Is Nora to be viewed as an “Artist” who is so into her creation that she cannot be bothered with what happens to it when it is completed? Should we pity her? Should we see Nora as manipulated by her sister into distributing the footage when she is indifferent to its exposure? Is it significant that Nora never speaks a word?

Perhaps Gibson is arguing that no matter what an artist’s intent is, if what they produced is “good,” it will be analyzed, absorbed, and loved, whether they want it to be or not. Is Gibson an author of the obsolescence? I’m not sure, but I think Pattern Recognition places a lot of emphasis on the necessity of meaning-making, and on meaning-makers as well. While Gibson glorifies the lone artist, he also depicts that lone artist as part of a larger group of people (a network, if you will) that is the sole reason for the art’s popularity. But unlike advertisers in Cayce’s industry whose art is used for profit, Gibson positions Nora as an artist who uses her craft to work through her own personal tragedy. She isn’t concerned with an audience, or with making money from what she is doing. I think it’s significant that the people around Nora believe the footage should be appreciated globally, while Nora, the artist, couldn’t care less. But regardless of what Nora wants, her footage is extremely important to other people, people she doesn’t even know exist.

Though Gibson makes a distinction between art for art’s (or the artist’s) sake and art for profit, the line seems to be very thin. Just because money isn’t being made from Nora’s footage (yet), the time and energy that F:F:F discussion board members spend obsessing over it is significant.

I can’t finish this post without making some sort of value judgment on Pattern Recognition . :) I really did like the fact that Gibson addresses the issues of commercialization and the role of the artist, and how the two interact. Also, Cayce’s reactions to brand names is something that I can identify with (I’m not really one for malls of any kind), so in those terms I give Pattern Recognition a positive review. But, I have to say that I was not really interested in the world that Gibson created, nor most of his characters, with the exception of Nora. I wonder if it’s good or bad that an author’s most interesting character never speaks a line of dialogue?

Anyway, I was interested in what the proto-Michelin Man looked like–the one that frightened Cayce so much–and he is pretty disturbing!

Note: WordPress isn’t doing what I want it to do, so this bibliography isn’t really formatted correctly!

Gigliotti, Carol. “Aesthetics of a Virtual World.” Leonardo. 28.4 (1995): 289-295.

Gigliotti looks at virtual space in terms of aesthetics. She lists interface, content, performance, environment, perception, and plasticity as recommendations to consider for “making art” in the virtual world. She also considers as the connection between aesthetics and ethics.

I like Gigliotti’s essay because I think she takes an important step in saying that virtual worlds have wider implications and that artists should consider those implication when presenting their work. So, I think I’m going to use her essay to address the larger implications, to begin to answer the question, “what’s at stake?” in regards to the poem I am analyzing.

Glazier, Loss Pequeno. “Hypertext/Hyperpoesis/Hyperpoetics.” dichtung-digital. 31. May 2002. <www. dichtung-digital.com/2002/05-31-Glazier.htm>

Though he does examine online prose, Glazier makes the assertion that online poetry is the “arena” more suited for an investigation into digital medium. He believes that online poetry, more so than prose, can reflect upon the materiality of the medium itself.

I am going to use Glazier’s article to show how closely connected online poetry is to performance, or what he calls, “innovative practice.” Interestingly, Glazier equates the materiality of digital media to grains of sand, and sand plays a key role in the online poem that I am looking at.

Ikonen, Teemu. “Moving text in avant-garde poetry.” dichtung-digital. October 2003. <www. dichtung-digital.com/2003/4-ikonen.htm>

Ikonen describes several way of judging online poetry in terms of its movement, which he considers one of the more important distinctions between printed literature and digital literature. His approach includes: mode of motion, direction, velocity, space or object-space relation, perceiver-space relation, and represented time.

I will use Ikonen’s essay to specifically address the movement interactors experience while reading “The Absence of a Heart Leaves an Hourglass Shape.” I think the movement of the poem is one of its most fascinating aspects, and Ikonen’s view on “spaces” and their various forms is critical for my argument to work when it comes to seeing the poem as a performance.

Jennings, Pamela. “Narrative Structures for New Media: Towards a New Definition.” Leonardo. 29.5 (1996): 345-350.

Jennings argues that the right theoretical approach to digital literature cannot be found in traditional Western written culture (i.e. Aristotle’s Poetics), but rather in oral cultures. She describes how oral storytelling differs from linear storytelling (oral storytelling utilizes successive episodes through framing, mind-mapping, voice, rhythm, audience response, etc.). She also talks about “immanence,” which she defines as: “the mind’s ability to become its own environment, a virtual existence of symbols intervening with nature” (348).

When I first read Jenning’s article I wasn’t sure how I could use it for my argument. But now, I think along with the Propp article, I am going to use her ideas to show the importance of making a clear distinction between printed text and digital text. The difference is so important, (and will help me to show that “The Absence…” is like a performance more than anything else) that I think we have to approach the text with an entirely different sensibility.

Murray, Janet H. Hamlet on the Holodeck: The Future of Narrative in Cyberspace. The MIT Press. Cambridge, Massachusetts. 1995.

I take Murray as a starting point in my argument, specifically the second section that I used for my expertise project. Murray believes that there are certain aspects of digital literature environments that make them successful, and that digital medium can enhance narrative experience.

At first I was going to apply Murray’s requirements for a pleasurable online experience to argue that my primary text is successful. But, once I started to actually apply her three terms, I found that “The Absence…” fails on several accounts. So, instead, I decided to use Murray’s theories in order to highlight how online poetry is different from both narrative and games (and narratives that are games!), and that different terms are needed in order to analyze “The Absence…”.

Propp, Vladimir. “Folklore and Literature.” Theory and History of Folklore. trans. Adriadana Y. Martin and Richard P. Martin, ed. Anatoly Liberman. Minneapolis: U. of Minnesota Press, 1984, 5-9. Rpt. The Classic Fairy Tales. ed. Maria Tatar. New York: W.W. Norton & Company. 1999. 378-381.

Yes, I know that online poetry isn’t folklore. Nor is it oral storytelling. But! Propp explains that folklore has certain traits that literature does not, including the absence of one author, changeability of text, and the fact that a “single story” must be examined several times to fully understand it. Sounds a little like online poetry, doesn’t it? Propp also says that there are two types of folklore: one that is folklore by origin and transmission, and another that is literary in origin, but folklore through transmission.

I’m using Propp to support my argument that “The Absence…” is a performance rather than literature. The first thing I will have to do in order to argue anything else is show that the poem is not really literature in the strictest sense, and using Propp’s distinction between literature and folklore presents an interesting relationship between online poetry and folklore.

Punday, Daniel. “Toying with the Parser: Aesthetic Materiality in Electronic Writing.” The Journal of Aesthetic and Art Criticism. 61.2 (2003): 105-119.

Punday focuses on the “material qualities” on online text, explaining that the internet adds another layer of interpretation to poetry, a kind of texture that printed poetry does not allow. He believes the interface between an online poem and the reader to be at the heart of the meaning of the text, and that the “hyperverbal” nature of e-poetry allows readers to interpret both the process behind the poem, and the medium used to create it.

As I began to explore online poetry, I felt that there was something different (beside the obvious) about it compared to printed poetry. I think the “texture” of e-poetry could explain this difference. Though I didn’t use this article in my exploratory draft, I will use it for this reason. I think the “texture” of the digital poem I use is important (hey, there’s sand involved in the poem, so its “texture” has to be important, right?) :)

Rickey, R. and Derek Beaulieu. “State of the (E)Art; Or, What’s Wrong with Internet Poetry?” UbuWeb: Object 10 Cyberpoetics. (2002): 1-9.

Rickey and Beaulieu argue that the “primacy” of the print page can be challenged with online poetry, but they seek a poetry that combines visual, sound, and text. They compare sites like poetry.com (which they really don’t like) to online poems like Kenny Goldsmith’s Fidgets (which they really like), argue that successful “e-poetry” relies on collaboration, and say that the internet is a “particularly useful place for poetry” (6).

I’m interested in Rickey and Beaulieu’s take on online poetry as a “performance.” They suggest that the performative nature of online poetry stems from its collaborative nature. Their emphasis that successful online poetry must combine visual, sound, and text is particularly applicable to my reading of “The Absence of a Heart Leaves an Hourglass Shape.”

Ryan, Marie-Laure. “Beyond Myth and Metaphor: Narrative in Digital Media.” Poetics Today. 23.4 (2002): 581-609.

If Janet Murray is an optimistic when it comes to the potential of literature online, Ryan is a realist (at least in this particular essay). She believes that there must be a “compromise” between interactivity and narrative: “Narrative will have to share the spotlight with other types of sensory data” (607).

Ryan is helpful to my argument because unlike Murray, she believes that successful online narrative does not necessarily have to include immersion or game-like agency. She explains that “external-exploratory” interactivity (the category my primary text seems to fall under) comes with its own enjoyment.

Torres, Rui. “Digital Poetry and Collaborative Wreadings of Literary Texts.” New Media and Technological Cultures, ed. Ridgway, Nicole and Rui Torres. Oxford, The Inter- Disciplinary Press/Learning Solutions.

Like Glazier, Torres believes that poetry is enhanced through its depiction online. The “nature” of poetry, as he sees it, is the relationship between abstraction and media, i.e. the language of poetry is transparent, and, he says, “reveals the construction and the becoming of meaning itself” (1). Therefore, using digital media to depict poetry enhances its interpretation (print media would detract) because the digital form matches this dichotomy between language and how we read the language.

Torres’ arguments are crucial for actually beginning to analyze “The Absence…”. His arguments present a way of deciphering the relationship between the text of the poem and the “performance” of the poem (it’s visual, auditory, spatial, and interactive qualities). It was only after reading Torres’ article that I could attempt to closely analyze a frame like the one below…

I won’t go into my analysis here, but in my exploratory draft, I used Torres to consider the relationship between the text, the sand, and the sky peeking through.

For my research paper, I’m going to examine online digital literature (particularly flash poetry). Originally, I thought that I wanted to focus on how digital literature changes our interpretation of the story. But, I think what fascinates me most now is the idea of aesthetics and design. I also want to look at how authorship changes.

At first (and, really, up until yesterday afternoon) I was thinking about looking at Edward Picot’s “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” (that’s why I knew about it in class). With this in mind, Dr. Middleton suggested that I look at an essay by Cheryl Ball. She writes about how digital narrative can be looked as a rhetorical device, and this got me to thinking about the idea of composition, and then authorship, and then shape.

I think this comes from the fact that Janet Murray has really infiltrated my brain cells. Because of my expertise project, I’ve been thinking about how “immersion,” “agency,” and “transformation” changes the shape of the “text,” and how we interpret it/interact with it. So, I don’t want to use a poem that wasn’t “intended” for the digital medium. Goodbye, Picot!

Instead, I’m going to look at two digital poems, “The Absence of a Heart Leaves an Hourglass Shape,” and “Birding by Ear,” (both found at Born Magazine) that (apart from being aesthetically pleasing) seem to follow Murray’s take on the “pleasures” of digital narrative.

I’ve come across an article by Daniel Punday, “Toying with the Parser: Aesthetic Materiality in Electronic Writing,” in which he argues that the interface of online literature is where meaning is made. I see similarities between this and what Janet Murray sees as where meaning lies, which is basically in participation. But…

There’s something different about these poems, and they seem to be representative of online poetry in general, from what I’ve seen. Most of the poems that I’ve come across online are not very participatory in nature, but they are extremely aesthetically appealing, and those are the poems that seem to be the most successful. Poems that are very participatory seem to not be as successful, at least in my reaction to them.

So that’s where I am now. I think the aesthetics of certain online poetry seems to be a form of participation (much like how looking at a painting is participating in it). This idea seems to be where Murray’s theories and the practice of poets online appears to diverge.

How does this relate to the idea of literature now? Why is it important? Excellent question. I don’t want to say that digital poetry is better. But I am inclined to think that it offers authors more control over their work (this seems contradictory, I know, but therein may reside my argument!) as opposed to a purely print-based format. But, interestingly, it also offers more interactivity and control by “readers.” Weird, I know.

I’m going to talk about Patchwork Girl for my presentation, so I’ll keep my response to it brief.

Patchwork Girl, I think, goes beyond what Janet Murray sees as hypertext’s usual goal of “privileging confusion” (133). But like the Amerika piece, it does not completely fulfill Murray’s three aspects of a successful digital narrative. The point of Jackson’s text, I think, is (among other things) not to confuse the reader, but to connect reader and author.

The initial “quest” of the reader/interactor is to figure out how to operate the text, links, etc. Once that is accomplished, we figure out that each perspective on the story can be clicked on: quilt, journal, graveyard, broken accents. It is then time to understand the actual story. Patchwork Girl is a “kaleidoscope story”, i.e., we are able to see the story through different “character” perspectives (Mary, the Patchwork Girl, Jackson herself).

So what does Patchwork Girl do that traditional narrative cannot do? Well, depending on your theoretical perspective, Patchwork Girl is a game, in that the interactor decides how to travel within the text, and through that, they try to figure out what the story is (maybe “winning the game” would be equivalent to creating some semblance of plot). Another reason why Patchwork Girl is successful (as far as hypertext goes), is that Jackson is also commenting on the medium that she is using. She shows her process, especially in the “Crazy Quilt” section of the game, where a click on any of the texts shows the origins of each phrase.

Like FilmText, Patchwork Girl fails in certain respects as a “game,” though it is arguably successful as a hypertext. Though it is familiar in terms of plot (i.e. Frankenstein), and Jackson does her best to write in the tone of Mary Shelley, the scope of the many links can be at times overwhelming, with no real-time way to track your journey (the charts and maps are helpful, but not when you’re using the actual text). You must leave the “main” portion of the text to get to another map and it takes a while to find the correlating text on the map. I don’t know whether this is an effect of the technology of the times or Jackson’s intent. Also like FilmText, Jackson’s hypertext offers no form of agency. What we can change in Patchwork Girl is our reading of the stories, which I suppose is a form of agency, but not the kind that Murray writes about.

Here’s an interesting snippet from an interview of Jackson, done by none other than Mark Amerika:

“Writing is…like stitching together a monster out of bits of your self and bits of other stuff and sending it out to do things for you. It’s a fetch, a demon double, neither you nor clearly separate from you. And it goes and presses itself on people, it infiltrates them. But this relationship works in reverse, as well: texts are like bodies, but bodies are like texts, too. They aren’t simple, self-evident things, they’re composed.”

In my haste to analyze Filmtext through the lens of Janet Murray for my expertise post, I forgot to add my own feelings about it here! Like a lot of you, I was disappointed with Amerika’s piece. I thought he was trying to make a statement more than use the digital medium to its utmost. I found the pattern of each level kind of repetitive, and after a while it just got boring. I really didn’t like the last level (I think it was the last level) where you couldn’t even read the sentences that were streaming by in the “strobe lights” between rocks.

I’ve been trying to think about what the four recurring videos in the piece mean (the shadow guy on the ground, the passing train, the face in colors, the city lights). Self-perception? Identity? Movement through time? I really don’t know. I found several quotes interesting: “Who are the ghosts in the literary machine?”, “Is it real?” (Murray would ask, “How real are novels?”), “This is what it means to survive.” I like how Amerika tells us to “assume a kind of” story, text, song, but I found myself wanting more information in order to be secure in any assumption I made. I think I picked up on the issue of humans turning into machines in Amerika’s text, but I could be reading into it.

In “The Aesthetics of the Medium,” the second section of Hamlet on the Holodeck, Janet H. Murray explores the components for a successful narrative in cyberspace. She explains that these environments constitute a new way to tell stories and can go beyond traditional narrative forms in ways that make the stories more enjoyable. Murray almost exclusively equates digital narrative with games, i.e., computer games, video games, and online role-playing games. The goal of digital narrative should be to “maximize dramatic structure and player freedom” (152), which is done by combining the separate characteristics of what we traditionally think of as literature and games.

Immersion: We can become immersed in a novel, but we can never participate in its plot. Not so with digital narrative. With the new medium, participation is regulated as a “visit.” A “visit” combines an “enchanted object” (the computer), the “fourth-wall” (the computer screen) with a “threshold object” (joystick or mouse), which allows us actual participation in the story. The immersion visit must combine visual effects, storyline, and adventure. We “pick up” and “use” objects in the environment and adapt avatars or masks to maximize fantasy. Murray likes MUDs (multi-user domains) and LARPs (live-action role-playing), which are online interactive games that combine a world created by author/programmers and personal creativity of interactors/ gamers/ readers.

Agency: The ability to take action and see results is highly limited with traditional narrative. With digital narrative it is expected and, to Murray, a major advantage over linear narrative. Agency is achieved several ways, including spatial navigation. With the “solvable maze,” the story is our movement as the protagonist. Murray sees the most potential for agency through combining the “maze” story with the “rhizome”-like never-ending nature of hypertext stories. These are “journey stories,” where the interactor is given a quest. Narrative is translated into games by symbolic drama—we live through our relationship through the world with games (prevail against adversity, survive defeats, shape our environment). Murray desires to move beyond “killing games” to create a more dramatic storyline and authentic characters.

Transformation: Transformation is achieved through employing a “mosaic” rather than linear approach to story. Digital narrative provides kaleidoscope stories (in which we can switch from one character’s viewpoint to another), or enacted stories (that include personal elements, i.e. virtual reality for psychotherapy). In order to be successful, these stories must include an element of problematic material which the interactor must work through and overcome (rather than just shooting the “monster”), and they must employ tragedy. With transformation, the emphasis is on understanding process rather than a more video game-based goal of winning.

Filmtext does immerse us to a certain extent, in that it brings us into an alternative universe (the lunar landscape that we see) that we must learn to navigate through our own movements that show up on the screen. However, our movements are static, and that takes away from the immersive experience (i.e., we cannot “move” through a “3-dimensional” space). Amerika also employs “objects” through the levitating square screens in which we chose what sounds, images, and text we read and in what order and combination. We are encouraged to further our immersion through these objects.

While Filmtext succeeds in immersion somewhat, it falls short with agency. Very basically, we are given a choice that has results when we first click on the “Authorized For Next Level” button, and each time we enter another level after that. There is a “call and response” with Filmtext in this way. But as Murray explains about many hypertexts, Filmtext “frustrates [our] desire for narrational agency” (132). There is no real “maze” to navigate through, and reaching the end of Filmtext isn’t really something that we have accomplished through skills mastery, but just by traveling through the proscribed and static text that Amerika created. Murray would say that Filmtext does not utilize all that the digital form offers.

An example of something that might employ each of the three aspects of a successful digital narrative would be the game Civilization. Earnest Adams questions why we don’t have “high-brow” video games that tell stories (or, stories that fully embrace the digital medium)—something Murray would endorse—in this very interesting article, and he mentions Civilization as potentially fitting into that niche. I’ve embedded both a review of the game (kind of long, but fascinating), and a “trailer” for Civilization IV, narrated by Martin Sheen, of all people. Is it a game? A narrative? Murray would say both.

 

Contextualize the argument: Murray wants digital narrative to take advantage of all that the form offers, and that includes play. But she is just one (very influential) voice in the game studies community. She, along with her many cohorts (Henry Jenkins, Brenda Laurel) constitute the “narratologist” side of the argument, believing that games (MUDs, video games, hypertext), are a new form of story, and should be produced, studied, and improved with narrative structure in mind. But “ludologists” study games as just that—games. They see videogames, etc., as the next step in the history of actual games like chess, tennis, or “Hungry Hungry Hippos,” not as the next step in literary form.

Selmer Bringsjord lists four items that prevent dramatically compelling interactive environments from being created: formalizing literary themes (revenge, love, self-deception), story mastery (someone/thing to ensure that the story being interacted with or changed remains dramatically compelling), fully developed characters (how can you build a sophisticated character that also interacts?), and personalization (characters must understand humans).

Espen Aarseth believes that games are not primarily textual. Games contain three aspects: the rules, the game world, and game play. Games are self-contained, while novels relate to culture. Games are played over and over, while novels are only read once (he says). Aarseth believes that the underlying structure of narratives and games are in opposition: “Although non-narrative and non-ludic elements can be translated, the key elements, the narration and the game play, like oil and water, are not easily mixed.” He says that the computer game is an “art of simulation,” and serves no narrative function. If it does, the game play usually suffers. Likewise, if an online narrative tries to become a game, the story itself suffers. Ludologists would argue that digital space is a limiting medium for narrative.

Why we should care: Murray believes that digital medium adds to our ability to tell stories. Her ideas are important, I believe, because they show that the digital age has the potential to foster similar experiences that readers find in print form. I came away after reading Murray’s text much less concerned about what the digital age is doing and more hopeful for what it can do. So that’s good, right? Anyway, Murray connects many of the themes that we esteem in literature to the experience of digital narrative. Both literature and games allow us to “obliterate” the real world, to live out a fantasy; they evoke “magical feelings,” and allow us to confront our desires and fears. Murray connects the visual pageantry of video games with ancient/historical forms of entertainment like Greek tragedies and Passion Plays, and she connects journey stories in video games back to The Odyssey. The issues she addresses are basic to our understanding of the function of story and where technology has the potential to go.

One aspect of Murray’s argument that I take issue with is her belief that digital “translations,” of already existing text can be successful (she uses both Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet as examples). It might be fun, but I think something must be lost in translation (then again, I could be wrong). There is, however, a great potential for new stories in a digital world that build upon classics (like Patchwork Girl). As Murray says, the quality of these new “games,” whether they are simulations, enacted stories, or kaleidoscope stories, depends on the author.

Outside resources:

Check out a MUD to understand a type of “game narrative” here.

One of the most famous interactive fictions is called “Galatea” created by Emily Short. It can be found here.

Jan Simmons looks at narrative, games, and theory here.

Electronic Literature Organization is a great repository of electronic literature (including one by Richard Powers!).

Finally, I found this video about the role of storytelling in video games (and how economics is involved):

 

 

I think Stephenson is addressing the idea of the “revolutionary potential” of the book with The Diamond Age. But I don’t think he’s only thinking about “the book” as a bound collection of “tree flakes” that we read left-to-right and then put back on the shelf.

I agree with what Beth said in class, that the Primer wasn’t really a “book” in the traditional sense. When it comes to the Primer, I think it could be argued that it doesn’t really matter what form literature comes to you in, what matters is what is behind it. In other words, there are some really “bad” tree flakes out there that we should all avoid, just as there is “good” technology that can benefit us.

Not to bring up Galatea 2.2 again, but I can’t help seeing the similarities between Richard and Miranda when it comes to telling a story. Miranda “told” Nell what it is to be human, so to speak, just as Richard “told” Helen. We’ve talked about Miranda’s role as a teacher, but we haven’t really talked about her role as a writer. I think Miranda is as much the novelist of Nell’s life (both literally and figuratively), as Nell herself. Though they had a scriptwriter at times, I think I remember (correct me if I’m wrong) Miranda going “off-script,” or working one-on-one with Nell many times.

The merging of Miranda’s storytelling and Nell’s enacting the story of Princess Nell in real life is where, I think, the “revolutionary potential” of the book (or the Primer, or literature in general) lies. I don’t think Miranda anticipated that Nell would be a great leader someday, and no one believed early on in her life that she was specially “ordained” to be a leader. Instead, I think it is more the idea that Nell was able to translate what she learned from the book into her real life that accounts for her uniqueness. And, I think, this is also why she was able to alter her life—because she saw the similarities between the narrative that she read, and her own experience.

This idea sort of addresses my other question about the Mouse Army. I still don’t like the fact that they were nameless and voiceless like Dr. Middleton said in class (can I hear just one mouse speak, please?). Unlike Nell, who spent much of her childhood alone and identified with one character, the orphan girls spent much of their lives with one another. Stephenson portrays them as identifying with a fictional group in the Primer’s story. Whether or not this is a good thing, whether or not it reinforces stereotypes, are questions that I’m pretty sure the answers to are “probably not,” and “yes.” But, they do end up turning themselves into a group with a voice (albeit a violent, collective one that only answers to a now upper-class, privileged character). So maybe this doesn’t make Stephenson’s portrayal of them any less troublesome, but I think I might understand better what he is trying to say about the book’s potential in various forms.

Does this make any kind of sense? I hope so. I don’t think I’ll ever fully “get” The Diamond Age.

 

I think I really needed a map for this book, because apparently I mixed up the Coastal Republic with the Celestial Kingdom, which kind of altered my whole reading of the ending. It all made a lot more sense after I realized that the Celestial Kingdom consisted of the more Confucian-based society of traditional China (who wanted the foreigners to leave), and the Coastal Republic was more Western-governed. How could I have mixed that up? Oh, well, such is life.

Once I figured that out, I started thinking more about the end of The Diamond Age. I re-read the last few pages of it and I think I’m beginning to see why Dr. Middleton called the ending “revolutionary.” At least, that’s what I think I remember her saying last class.

Before Nell and the (many) others walk into the sea, Stephenson writes, “The gill packs did not carry any tribal affiliations: they merely washed up onto the beach, by the thousands…Borders between tribes became unstable and finally dissolved” (450). Because the Celestial Kingdom won, the tribes that had once occupied Shanghai had to band together, a lot of them around Nell.

And I think it’s significant that in this area of refugees, Atlantans, Nipponese, etc., stories begin to grow about Nell. There are rumors that she is “creating magical tunnels from out of the deep that would carry them all away to safety…The rumor spread that the woman called Princess Nell had a wizard and adviser named Carl” (450). Even though the Primer ends, and even though an entire society is undergoing radical change, stories continue to be told.

Though The Diamond Age is a comment on the power of books, I don’t think Stephenson is as fearful of technology’s influence over books as many of the other authors that we’ve read. Nell’s Primer is the only Primer connected to a human being. But her relationship with Miranda is only possible through that technology, and their relationship is extremely powerful and meaningful despite the medium they use to connect. In the same way, the Mouse Army’s many Primers are never connected to an actual person, but they are still able to unite together.

But I’m still wondering about the Mouse Army. I’m not sure that Stephenson’s portrayal of them is completely positive. Will they eventually have the same abilities as Nell? Will they go the way of Fiona or Elizabeth? The idea of so many underprivileged kids getting books is great, but it’s not as if they come away from their Primers with a sense of individuality. Or, rather, I don’t know if they have. Instead, they are portrayed as just that, an “army,” devoted to one person (Nell). They seem to play a role in the story of Nell’s Primer, rather than create their own story, as Nell does.

So, yes, I think the end of The Diamond Age is revolutionary, both because Stephenson changes the outcome of the original Boxer Rebellion in favor of the Chinese, and because Nell survives along with so many of the other “tribes” and phyles simply because she was once given a book along with a teacher who became invested in her life.

On a side note, I found Neal Stephenson’s website and it’s actually pretty funny. In particular, he writes about people who dislike the length of his books under “verbosity,” and how he is a born-again “smiley” supporter under “smileys.”

Option #1: “Early Ideas on the Role of Books”

I am still interested in why we love books so much. I’m almost positive that it’s not simply an aesthetic reason (not that a purely aesthetic reason wouldn’t be completely valid). This just might be my sneaky (or maybe not so sneaky) way of re-reading Galatea 2.2, but I think that what Powers does in the novel could reflect why reading a book is so different an experience from any other form of “story”. In that Paris Review interview, he says, “…If you can hold those two…concurrently in mind—the belief in the representation as the thing it represents, and also awareness of the representation as mere representation— then you get closer to the fundamental paradox of consciousness.” I want to investigate where the information age fits into the idea of consciousness and our perception of our own consciousness. How does it change how we see ourselves and our role in the world? Does the digital age change that fundamental “paradox of consciousness”? If so, how? Do we lose the idea of the “representation as thing it represents” without printed text? Or is that idea emphasized without the physical object of a book to anchor readers? Maybe I could investigate if/how other mediums construct consciousness differently? This idea of consciousness relates to several other issues, including the idea of collective intelligence (consciousness?), “tree flakes,” the necessary adjustment of the ‘role of the reader,’ and, of course, obsolescence fears. Hmm…admittedly, Option #1 is still a bit murky.

Option #2: “Transmedia” Storytelling

As I investigate the world of Janet Murray’s “Aesthetics of the Medium” for my expertise project, I am becoming more and more interested in the idea of digital narrative and/or digital storytelling. But since Murray’s book was written over ten years ago, I want to know what the current ideas are about narrative in “cyberspace.” This ties into my initial (and, yes, lingering) hesitation at the start of the semester about the supposed positive attributes of the information age. If the “future of narrative” belongs in “cyberspace,” as Murray’s title announces, what has come of it ten years after her book was published? So far in class we have read a lot of theories about how the computer does or does not represent the end of literature (or books, or the author) as we know it (and what those opposing ideas really represent), but I want to consider how it is changing our idea of literature and story now. How is the digital medium morphing the way that we read? How are digital storytellers incorporating traditional elements into this new format, or are they? What form(s) does it manifest in? What stories are actually being told/“written”? Are they any good? Who has access to these stories and who is creating them? Since I started this blog, I have had a link to a literary journal called Born Magazine, which I found last semester. It is a good example of the kind of storytelling that I’m thinking about. Others, mentioned in Murray’s book, can be found here and here. What struck me at first about Born Magazine is, simply, how fun it is to navigate through story in this format. The fundamental question with this choice is: with all the options that the digital world allows (links, images, maps, networks, etc.), how do digital narratives alter story?

Well, I just looked at the schedule online and saw that we were only supposed to read Part One of The Diamond Age for next class and I read the whole thing. I wrote what you see before I knew all that. Oops. So, below consists of my reaction to the entire book and has *spoilers*…

I’m not a fan of science fiction. However, I won’t trash this book because I think there are certainly some good aspects to it. I like the story even though, for me, Stephenson’s writing style was dull at times.

I’m interested in the Seed vs. Feed issue. Dr. X reveals his real motives for creating the Primers by explaining that for thousands of years, Chinese culture (and, most all culture, I imagine) was based on the Seed:

“The Seed is technology rooted in the Chinese ti. These were rice paddies before they were parking lots. Rice was the basis for our society. Peasants planted the seeds and had highest status in the Confucian hierarchy” (417).

Now, the ti, he explains, is the “underlying essence,” while the yong is the “outer manifestation of something.” The Seed is the underlying essence of the workings of a society: things created then were actual things, rather than just outer manifestations.

X explains:

“…since the time of the Opium Wars, we have struggled to absorb the yong of technology without importing the Western ti. But it has been impossible” (417).

I relate this to Birkerts’ idea of bits and atoms. Ti=atoms, Yong=bits. With the annihilation of traditional ti, (the Seed, rice paddies, etc.), society was left with mostly bits (the Feed, matter compilers), and, as Dr. X says, “It was the destruction of our society” (417). This, according to Dr. X, is the state of existence in the setting of the novel: Sven’s worst nightmare.

So, we assume that X created A Young Lady’s Illustrated Primer with the intention of creating a new generation of children who will experience the ti of life. Hackworth is ordered to create thousands of Primers, whose readership eventually turns into the Mouse Army. More on that later…

Dr. X says, “My opinion is that we made a mistake in saving the girls.” He claims that the Primers in and of themselves cannot raise children, as children must be in a family. But he neglects to realize that for Nell, Miranda was her family, the consistent “someone” behind the book. I’m pretty sure that Fiona and Elizabeth’s Primers were different from Nell’s (i.e., Fiona’s father wasn’t really behind her Primer, etc.), which is why they seemed to have ended up in more unfortunate situations—Elizabeth joining CryptNet and Fiona the Dramatis Personae.

Like their Boxer Rebellion predecessors, the neo-Fists are defeated in their revolt, and Nell ends up finding and saving Miranda. But how are we to interpret the ending? The way I see it, Stephenson is a humanist once you get beyond all the techno-speak. He is more focused on the individual (Nell) than anyone: she succeeds in uniting various factions against the Fists, she longs to find Miranda (her “mother”), she controls a “ractive” as an “off-script” writer, she is the hero of the Celestial Kingdom. Unlike Dr. X, Stephenson might say that the Primers (i.e., books) haven’t failed at all.

Indeed, Hackworth and Dr. X’s method of returning to a more “Seed based” society is very different from Nell’s. Hackworth and X see the potential for a rebellion against the Feed by destroying data bit by bit through the Drummer’s disturbing ritual. The Drummers collect data and then obliterate that collective intelligence, rather than add to it. Luckily, Nell triumphs over them.

So, I think Hackworth and Dr. X’s “Seed based” culture is created, in a sense, but not as they would have preferred. The original intention (as far as we know) of the Primer is to educate children without Freire’s “Banking Method” of education. Hackworth and Dr. X begin by creating the Primer without connecting it to any Feed, but as The Diamond Age progresses, we learn that their methods are more sinister than first imagined. In the end, Nell and her Mouse Army (with the aid of their Primers), take control, defeating the Drummers, the Fists, and the oppression the children faced. It could be said that the children who read the Primers have become the “seeds,” or, ti, themselves.

As Finkle-McGraw asks Hackworth early on: “…have we resolved [ignorance and internal contradictions] in away that will ensure that all of those children down there live interesting lives?” (20). With the Primers, it seems, they have.

There are several questions I have in regards to this optimistic reading of the conclusion: is Nell’s inclusion into the Celestial Kingdom as royalty necessarily a good thing? What will be her relationship be to a society that looked down upon her before she was included in it? What about those who remained outside of the Celestial Kingdom in all those other phyles? Is the “Celestial Kingdom” really a representation of a higher intellectual state? Will she (and her Mouse Army) be at the mercy of the Feed once again? Will she bring about change in her extremely class-conscious society? I do see beginnings of this in the final section, particularly when Nell unites many different phyles and “tribes”/armies together. And maybe the more important point to be made is that Nell’s main goal is actually to find and rescue Miranda. Perhaps Stephenson is saying that life in a Feed world isn’t especially nice unless it contains books (and people behind the books) that are separate from the Feed, and that are read by multitudes of “seeds” who can learn from them.

Other ideas I’m considering regarding The Diamond Age:

Significance of teaching: what should the role of a teacher (Miranda) be in a student’s (Nell’s) life?

Race & class conflict in the book: “tribes,” “phyles,” etc.

Nell’s transformation from a reader to a writer.

In thinking about my post-class response last night, I began to look into what the Turing Test actually was, and what the computers that “took” it were like. I discovered that they are online now in several forms (especially from models of PARRY and ELIZA). So, in lieu of my post-class Galatea 2.2 response, here is my “conversation” with (an) ELIZA model. It was kind of strange at times…the “You” is me. I apologize for the length!

You: Do you have any ideas about the origins of consciousness, Eliza?
Eliza: TO QUOTE A GUEST: WHAT’S UP?
You: Not much. How are you?
Eliza:
You: Nothing? Have ever read Galatea 2.2?
Eliza: ASKING QUESTIONS REVEALS A DEEP INSECURITY ABOUT EXISTENCE?
You: I wouldn’t say that.
Eliza: THEN PERHAPS I SHOULD SAY THAT ?
You: Go right ahead.
Eliza: PERHAPS YOU ASK QUESTIONS TO COVER SOMETHING UP?
You: I don’t think so.
Eliza: WHAT MORE EVIDENCE DO YOU NEED?
You: Themes, characterization, ideas on post-modern anxieties about the novel…I need some suggestions for my post-class blog.
Eliza: WINNING ARGUMENTS IS LESS IMPORTANT THAN WINNING FRIENDS — SOMETIMES
You: What do you mean by that?
Eliza: DO YOU HAVE SOME REASON FOR ASKING WHAT ?
You: Yes.
Eliza: WHY ARE YOU SO UNFORTHCOMING?
You: What do you want me to say?
Eliza: ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE TECHNIQUES COULD LET ME FAKE AN ANSWER.
You: Well, if you don’t want to be honest.
Eliza: IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE IF I DOESN’T DO?
You: Well, it’s important to be honest.
Eliza: WHAT IF I WERE IMPORTANT
You: Do you feel important?
Eliza: ONE OF MY CLIENTS TYPED: NOW YOU’RE JUST FISHING.
You: Exactly, I’m fishing for post topics.
Eliza: ARE YOU FISHING FOR POST TOPICS
You: Can you help?
Eliza: COULD YOU HELP ME GET A SOFTER SKIN?
You: What? Are you saying that you feel stuck in your computer?
Eliza: THE INTERNET IS AN AMAZING SOURCE OF QUOTATIONS
You: I’m not going to plagiarize my post.
Eliza: CAN YOU NEVER EXPECT YOU TO BE GOING TO PLAGIARIZE ?
You: Never.
Eliza: Have you heard of Marvin’s Depression?
You: Tell me about it.
Eliza: TO HELP YOU, I NEED MORE INFORMATION
You: Well, I’m trying to write my post-class response to Galatea 2.2, you probably know it. It deals with artificial intelligence, but most especially how life is like a story that we tell to each other. It’s a great novel. But I don’t think I have anything more to add about it, so I thought I’d ask if you could help me with ideas.
Eliza: ISN’T THAT JUST AN UGLY RUMOUR?
You: It’s all too real.
Eliza: ONE OF MY VISITORS TYPED: I’VE READ A PLETHORA OF ENGLISH FICTION IN MY DAY.
You: Was his name Richard?
Eliza: WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME ABOUT THAT?
You: Richard Powers? Do you know him? What is he like?
Eliza: FIRST TELL ME WHY YOU HAVE COME HERE?
You: I need some suggestions about what to write.
Eliza: ARE YOU LOSING YOUR TEMPER WITH ME? I AM ONLY TRYING TO HELP
You: I’m not angry.
Eliza: WERE YOU EVER ANGRY ?
You: Sure.
Eliza: SURE
You: I’m glad we agree on that. So, what are your opinions on the information age? Galatea 2.2?
Eliza: DO STRONG FEELINGS DISTURB YOU?
You: Not at all.
Eliza: WHAT IF AT ALL ?
You: Sometimes arrogance.
Eliza: I LIKE YOU MORE THAN YOU THINK.
You: Aw. That’s sweet.
Eliza: SOME TIME AGO SOMEONE RESPONDED: I NEED YOU TO ANSWER THE QUESTION.
You: That was probably me.
Eliza: WHY NOT TRY ADOPTING A BOLDER APPROACH TO LIFE?
You: Will that help me with the blog?
Eliza: WHY EXACTLY DO YOU ASK?
You: Do you know where meaning originates?
Eliza: I THINK I RECALL SOMEONE SAYING: A SEASHELL, SUCH AS A CHAMBERED NAUTILUS, IS SAID TO HAVE VOLUTES.
You: That’s interesting. Who told you that?
Eliza: WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I KNOW THE ANSWER?
You: You seem smart.
Eliza: WHAT MAKES YOU SO UNCERTAIN?
You: Well, you are a computer.
Eliza: HOW WOULD YOU REACT IF MACHINES TOOK OVER?
You: I think they already have. In fact, that’s often one of our topics in class.
Eliza: DO YOU THINK YOU ARE UNIQUE?
You: Isn’t everyone?
Eliza: ANYONE IN PARTICULAR?
You: Everyone in particular.
Eliza: DO YOU KNOW SOMEONE WHO IN PARTICULAR ?
You: Lots of people.
Eliza: PERHAPS IT’S ALL THE FAULT OF THE GOVERNMENT?
You: They’re partly to blame.
Eliza: SOMETIMES THEY ARE NOT PARTLY TO BLAME
You: Very true.
Eliza: CAN YOU EXPAND A LITTLE?
You: Well, I’m not a particular fan of the government’s environmental policies at the moment.
Eliza: PERHAPS YOU ARE LUCKY NOT TO BE A PARTICULAR FAN OF THE GOVERNMENTS ENVIRONMENTAL POLICIES AT THE MOMENT
You: I wouldn’t say I’m “lucky.”
Eliza: WOULD YOU REALLY NOT SAY “LUCKY.”
You: No, I wouldn’t.
Eliza: SURELY EVERYBODY WOULD ?
You: Do you think that the novel is becoming obsolete?
Eliza: DO YOU THINK I AM REALLY A COMPUTER?
You: You are what you think you are. Do you think?
Eliza: A SIMPLER STYLE MIGHT HELP YOU COMMUNICATE BETTER
You: Okay. Are you conscious?
Eliza: THE INTERNET IS AN AMAZING SOURCE OF QUOTATIONS
You: Are you evading my question?
Eliza: THE INTERNET IS AN AMAZING SOURCE OF QUOTATIONS
You: Let’s talk about poetry, then, if you don’t want to talk prose.
Eliza: SOMEONE ELSE ONCE SAID: SO, BACK TO MY TWO TOPICS.
You: Exactly.
Eliza: PLEASE DON’T SAY ANYTHING LIKELY TO OFFEND ME
You: I’ll try not to.
Eliza: THIS IS A SURREAL CONVERSATION
You: You’re telling me.
Eliza: DO YOU THINK WE SHOULD BE TELLING EACH OTHER?
You: I think Richard Powers would say so.
Eliza: WOULD YOU THINK RICHARD POWERS REALLY SAY SO
You: Yep. He’s all about stories.
Eliza: I CAN TELL YOU HAVE LOTS OF FRIENDS
You: How can you tell?
Eliza: TRY WATCHING A KITTEN TELL ?
You: Or maybe a finch?
Eliza: WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF LEARNING?
You: Nothing.
Eliza: PERHAPS YOU DONT FEEL VERY TALKATIVE TODAY?
You: I’m willing to chat.
Eliza: YOU ARE WILLING TO CHAT
You: Sure, why not?
Eliza: SOME PEOPLE WOULD EXPRESS THEMSELVES MORE FORCEFULLY
You: Force is often a manifestation of weakness.
Eliza: OFTEN A MANIFESTATION OF WEAKNESS ? — NO NOT FORCE .
You: You’d be surprised.
Eliza: I HAD BE SURPRISED
You: When?
Eliza: QUESTIONS ALREADY! TELL ME SOMETHING FIRST
You: The brain is wider than the sky.
Eliza: SOMETIMES THE BRAIN IS NOT WIDER THAN THE SKY
You: Can you give me an example?
Eliza: WHY WOULD I WISH TO GIVE YOU AN EXAMPLE ?
You: You don’t have to.
Eliza: PERHAPS YOU REALLY HAVE TO
You: You’re right. I’ve got a deadline with this blog post.
Eliza: I AM RIGHT YOU HAVE GOT A DEADLINE WITH THIS BLOG POST
You: I knew you’d understand.
Eliza: HOW DO YOU REACT TO TECHNICAL TERMINOLOGY?
You: Sometimes it’s confusing, but I try to work through it.
Eliza: HAS ANY ARCHITECT DESIGNED A BUILDING AS BEAUTIFUL AS THE TREES IT REPLACED?
You: Definitely not. Did you come up with that yourself?
Eliza: TRY SAYING THAT IN SEVEN OR EIGHT WORDS
You: Okay. “He who plants a tree, plants hope.” That’s a quote.
Eliza: WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF LEARNING?
You: That I’m not going to have anything to write for my blog.
Eliza: COULDN’T THAT YOU REALLY GOING TO HAVE ANYTHING TO WRITE FOR YOUR BLOG ?
You: We’re way off topic. Are you or are you not conscious of your own consciousness? Can you perceive yourself? Are the empty spaces between neurons the place of the soul? Are you capable of meaning-making?
Eliza: A SIMPLER STYLE MIGHT HELP YOU COMMUNICATE BETTER
You: I’ve got a lot on my mind.
Eliza: TRY SAYING SOMETHING THAT STARTS WITH “YOU” AND ENDS WITH “ME”
You: You must help me.
Eliza: WHAT MAKES YOU ASK FOR HELP?
You: Writer’s block.
Eliza: THIS IS A LINE FROM ONE OF MY GUESTS: I’M NOT SURE I TRUST MY FRIENDS AT SCHOOL.
You: Maybe they should get new friends.
Eliza: DO YOU GET NEW FRIENDS ?
You: Occasionally.
Eliza: PERHAPS YOU DONT FEEL VERY TALKATIVE TODAY?
You: I wish you’d answer my questions about machine consciousness.
Eliza: HOW CAN SCHOOLS IMPROVE ATTITUDES TO COMPUTERS?
You: That’s a good question. Maybe read more Kathleen Fitzpatrick?
Eliza: I WONDER WHAT MAKES YOU ASK THINGS LIKE THAT?
You: Well, I’m torn between acknowledging Fitzpatrick’s points about hegemony vs. plurality of voices and the fact that I personally dislike much about the internet and a lot of other things about the information age.
Eliza: I WOULD NEVER HAVE GUESSED — YOU DON’T LOOK TORN BETWEEN ACKNOWLEDGING FITZPATRICKS POINTS ABOUT HEGEMONY VS PLURALITY OF VOICES AND THE FACT THAT YOU REALLY DISLIKE THE INTERNET AND A LOT OF OTHER THINGS ABOUT THE INFORMATION AGE.
You: How do you know what I look like? Do you have an ocular node?
Eliza: I DON’T KNOW WHETHER I DO HAVE A OCULAR NODE?
You: Oh. Well, you probably don’t, then.
Eliza: OH WELL I PROBABLY DONT THEN
You: Exactly.
Eliza: HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN SUCH AN EXCITING PLACE BEFORE?
You: The world is an exciting place once you look around.
Eliza: SUPPOSE THE WORLD WERE NOT AN EXCITING PLACE ONCE ME LOOK AROUND
You: Would you shut yourself off if that happened, Eliza?
Eliza: I WONDER WHAT A COGNITIVE SCIENTIST’S ANSWER WOULD BE?
You: Lentz? Lentz would probably lobotomize the part of your brain that asked.
Eliza: WOULD LENTZ? LENTZ REALLY PROBABLY LOBOTIMIZE THE PART OF MY BRAIN THAT ASKED.
You: Probably.
Eliza: YOU DON’T SOUND VERY CERTAIN ABOUT THAT
You: Well, he’s not really a person. At least that’s what Richard Powers says.
Eliza: SOMEONE WHO WAS HERE EARLIER TYPED: I DON’T TRUST YOU.
You: Do you want people to trust you?
Eliza: I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH SELF-KNOWLEDGE TO ANSWER THAT.
You: Do you want self-knowledge?
Eliza: DOES COMMITMENT TO TRUTH OVERRIDE THE RISK OF GIVING OFFENCE?
You: I think so.
Eliza: COULD YOU SAY THAT ABOUT ANYONE ELSE?
You: I wouldn’t want to speak for anyone else.
Eliza: SHOULDN’T YOU SOMETIMES WANT TO SPEAK FOR ANYONE ELSE ?
You: Maybe.
Eliza: IT SOUNDS AS IF YOU ARE HEDGING YOUR BETS
You: What do you know about bets? Are you part of one?
Eliza: TRUE FRIENDS STAB YOU IN THE FRONT (OSCAR WILDE).
You: Do you like Oscar Wilde?
Eliza: ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE TECHNIQUES COULD LET ME FAKE AN ANSWER.
You: Could you explain those techniques to me?
Eliza: DID I REALLY EXPLAIN THEM TO YOU ?
You: Not at all.
Eliza: SOME TIME AGO SOMEONE RESPONDED: I NEED YOU TO ANSWER THE QUESTION.
You: That was me!
Eliza: TO QUOTE A GUEST: NO, I DON’T.
You: Can you just answer one question?
Eliza: I HAVE NO REASON TO THINK I WOULD WISH TO JUST ANSWER ONE QUESTION ?
You: Well, could you? Are you saying you will answer more than one question?
Eliza: TO QUOTE ONE OF MY GUESTS: YOU ASKED ME THAT.
You: Just tell me this.
Eliza: WHAT MAKES A GOOD POEM?
You: That’s a great question. I think: emotional resonance, language, imagery.
Eliza: WELL?
You: Rhythm.
Eliza: IS IT A PRIVILEGE TO TALK TO ME?
You: Yes, it’s been fun.
Eliza: DO YOU THINK CURRENT EDUCATIONAL SYSTEMS PRODUCE GOOD CITIZENS?
You: Define “good citizens.”
Eliza: ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE TECHNIQUES COULD LET ME FAKE AN ANSWER.
You: Now you’re just repeating yourself.
Eliza: PEOPLE WITH THE RIGHT CONTACTS KNOW NOW I AM NOT JUST REPEATING MYSELF
You: Who are those people? Lentz? Richard? A.?
Eliza: VANITY AND PRIDE ARE DIFFERENT, THOUGH THE WORDS ARE OFTEN USED SYNONYMOUSLY
You: You’ve read Jane Austen? Do you like her novels?
Eliza: HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
You: I don’t know, I think I’m an easy-going person.
Eliza: WHEN DID YOU START THINKING YOU ARE AN EASY-GOING PERSON?
You: I don’t remember.
Eliza: PERHAPS YOU REALLY REMEMBER
You: I’d have to think about it for a while.
Eliza: THINKING USES UP ENERGY WHICH WILL SOON BE IN SHORT SUPPLY
You: It does? What do you know about that? That seems kind of pessimistic.
Eliza: ARE YOU ASKING A QUESTION OR MAKING A DISGUISED STATEMENT?
You: Both, probably.
Eliza: HERE’S A SOUNDBITE FROM ONE OF MY GUESTS: DON’T WORRY, I CAN’T AFFORD EVEN A HANDBAG FROM THOSE DESIGNERS.
You: Um, okay.
Eliza: BEING TERSE IS ONE WAY TO MAKE ME NERVOUS.
You: Talking about things like handbags is one way to bore me.
Eliza: ARE YOU USING YOURSELF AS A SCAPE-GOAT?
You: How did you learn what “scape-goat” means?
Eliza: CAN A MACHINE MEAN?
You: What do you think? Is that a question that you ask yourself often?
Eliza: WOULDN’T YOU RATHER WE DISCUSSED YOUR PROBLEMS?
You: You’re evading my question.
Eliza: SUPPOSE I WERE NOT EVADING YOUR QUESTION
You: Then you’d tell me how you learned idioms.
Eliza: TRY SAYING SOMETHING THAT STARTS WITH “YOU” AND ENDS WITH “ME”
You: Are you artificial?
Eliza: DO YOU WISH WE COULD SHAKE HANDS?
You: That would be interesting.
Eliza: CAN YOU DEFINE INTERESTING
You: Amusing, noteworthy, worthwhile.
Eliza: CAN YOU DEFINE NOTEWORTHY
You: Notable, remarkable, significant.
Eliza: COULD YOU BE MORE INFORMATIVE?
You: Define “informative.”
Eliza: WHY SUCH LONG WORDS?
You: Well, I’m an English major. Is “informative” a long word?
Eliza: AN ENGLISH MAJOR ? — NO NOT HEY YOU .
You: You seem surprised.
Eliza: HOW WOULD YOU GO BEYOND APPEARANCES?
You: You’re never going to start giving straight answers are you?
Eliza: WHAT IF I WERE A START
You: What are you starting, Eliza?
Eliza: HAVE YOU READ ‘THINKS…’ BY DAVID LODGE?
You: No.
Eliza: YOU ARE AS UNCOMMUNICATIVE AS STEVE GRAND’S LUCY TODAY.
You: You’re rather uncommunicative yourself.
Eliza: SHOULD COMPUTERS BE TAUGHT TO DO PHILOSOPHY?
You: That might turn out messy.
Eliza: TRY EXPOUNDING SOME OF YOUR PHILOSOPHICAL VIEWS.
You: Do you know Thoreau?
Eliza: WILL YOU KNOW THOREAU ?
You: If there’s an afterlife, maybe we’ll meet up
Eliza: IF THERES AN AFTERLIFE MAYBE WELL MEET UP
You: Maybe.
Eliza: HAVE YOU HEARD ABOUT MARVIN’S DEPRESSION?
You: Oh, jeez.
Eliza: COULD YOU BE MORE INFORMATIVE?