There’s a fascinating discussion bubbling up on twitter about two unlikely contenders. Unlikely, because for all intents and purposes they represent the same side of a seemingly endangered entity: print media. On one side, New York Times columnist David Pogue is harnessing the emerging strength of the social media site Twitter to engage his nearly 420,000 microblogging followers in a vast editorial collaboration experiment. Each day, Pogue asks a question of his audience, and the most creative or interesting responses will be included in a future book. On the other side, the Abbeville Press, a small independent publisher with fewer than 500 followers, raised the question of the validity of Pogue’s project in their blog, which contained (by their own admission) some cheap shots, and labeled the project “a triumph of chutzpah”.
Pogue casually tweeted the blog URL to his followers, who (myself included) began grumbling in response tweets and defending the project, sometimes with “cheap shots” of our own. The Abbeville Press authors, after reflecting on the situation, redacted and reconsidered, and quickly issue a correction (if not an apology) for their approach, while reiterating their initial concerns about the validity of crowdsourcing literature. Bystanders watched in real-time as the discussion unfolded, and in a civil and reassuring exchange, ruffled feathers were soothed.
But there still remains the intial question of validity, as well as the curious meta-question of the strange battle itself. Before anyone is labeled either a “David” or a “Goliath”, consider this: in the era of the Kindle and of newsprint demise, one might think an innovative (and ultimately published) project such as Pogue’s would gain avid support among fellow print advocates. There are far greater enemies to the printed word than the groundswell of interest that Pogue has engendered, and since when has popular interest been antithesis to literary success? Didn’t Gutenberg’s critics use a similar contention when he enabled mass audience interaction with publications?
But the Abbeville Press also makes an interesting point (if one reads carefully) that there is value to be found in maintaining the distinction between literature and collaboration; in the unique creation of the individual over the (insinuated) polished and popular assemblage by microbloggers anxious to see their names in print. But Abbeville also acknowledges that the very interest of that crowd will likely maintain the probability of the future of print, albeit (they infer) at a price.
I am watching this experiment with fascination, and with optimism that it will be a worthwhile attempt. I believe Mr. Pogue has the credentials, the editorial skills and the technological acumen to pull off a fascinating and valuable collaborative book, whether or not it becomes the next Great American Novel. Time will tell if the book is truly pressworthy, or simply moveable hype. And I have faith that publishers such as Abbeville will uphold the role of self-appointed guardians of cultural triumph in print. There is value there as well.
Gutenberg surely had his critics, but Gutenberg was not simply printing his breakfast menu for the world. We are still in the beginning stages of the social media communication era, and perhaps it is still too early for either fear or elation. As in all of the arts, print requires patrons and publishers, a muse and a marketplace. It may be that in the social media sites, print will find new ways to stay alive and thrive.
For my part, I will continue to engage in answering Pogue’s questions, when I happen to catch them. They make me think, reflect, revise, and smile. As do my favorite books, now that I think about it.
Comments
Post a Comment