Toward the end of March I had the wonderful opportunity to present at an inaugural conference on the subject of Women’s History in the Digital World (#WHDigWrld on Twitter), at the Albert M. Greenfield Digital Center for the History of Women’s Education (at Bryn Mawr). Not only did this event allow me to meet many people doing wonderful work with digital women’s history, but it also allowed me to bring together people I know from two different projects: HistoricDress.org, and the digital library at Vassar College.
The event began Friday night, and I arrived just in time for the introductions and the keynote by Laura Mandell. Her talk got us thinking about “Feminist Critique vs. Feminist Production in Digital Humanities.” This overall theme carried us through the entire weekend, reminding us of the need for feminists:
- to be at the table when systems are designed for collecting, encoding, and disseminating information
- to create projects that provide positive models of how to represent less privileged groups and individuals
- to peer review each other’s work
- to provide support for each others’ grant proposals.
The highlight of her talk for many of us, however, was a slide with an example of some of her XML encoding for one of her projects. This is code that holds metadata (“data about data” is the quick definition) about a person, place, text, object – anything, really – and allows information to be understood by a computer. There was a collective gasp from the room when she showed that the TEI (Text Encoding Initiative) preferred code for gender (when encoding a person) was 1 for male, 2 for female.
I’ve been processing this ever since, thinking about who was at the table when that standard was developed, and why it couldn’t have been m and f, or something else entirely. Eventually it occurred to me that it could be an issue of internationalization, using numbers to avoid one language’s terms. Sure enough, looking into it further, it’s based on an ISO standard, ISO 5218, to be specific. Still, I couldn’t help but keep thinking of different ways to approach this issue – what about other non-serial numbers so it wouldn’t feel as hierarchical? How else could we approach this?
Well, checking in on this again today, a quick search yielded a discussion board conversation on this topic at the SourceForge site for TEI documentation, begun by Melissa Terras. Following through this months-long discussion thread, it appears that in the weeks since #WHDigWrld, the TEI Council has agreed to make a change, allowing the use of alternative or locally defined systems for encoding gender (take a look at the updated specification). Great news, but there’s still much work to be done.
Indeed, Mandell’s XML slide served as an example of how to perform subversive encoding to simultaneously work within current systems and create new systems. Her example pointed out that predominant name authorities, such as the Library of Congress (LOC), sometimes define a woman’s preferred name in the format “Mrs. (insert husband’s name here).” Her slide provided an example of double/triple subversive encoding, including the ISO 5218 and LOC standard terms, but only as alternate terms, following terms and ontologies more appropriate to the given project and to the representation of women as primary figures. It is inspiring to imagine how our projects can meet current standards and interact with other existing projects, yet simultaneously set new standards for like-minded work which could gain traction and someday overtake our current hegemonic standards.
All of this re-opened a door in my mind. I’m in the middle of a Metadata class right now, and up to attending this conference, I had been (for the most part) uncritically accepting the practice of using established authority files for names, places, and subjects, and accepting the preferred terms from such authorities. Disambiguation is the name of the game, and I understand and embrace that. But after seeing Mandell’s example, I am reminded that any “preferred” term must be coming from a preferred group, one that speaks from a position of power and privilege that other groups and other terms cannot attain.
Now that I’m back in school, I’m reminded of how easy it is to just be one of the herd and follow along with what you’re being taught in class. Back when I was getting my first masters, in costume design, my cohort jokingly adopted sheep as our mascot. Of course back then it was more obviously a joke – as a designer you are expected to have a style of your own and not to blend in with the herd. As a librarian, not so much – though I’m lucky that my program at SU seems to be very supportive of discourse. We need to see more examples like Mandell’s, to think more critically about the systems of organization that we are working within, to create alternative systems when necessary, and to stand up and try to make changes in existing standards.
The rest of the weekend continued in this vein, with a wide assortment of wonderful projects from across the country. I’ll highlight the presentations I was able to attend, but please visit the conference website to read more about all the ones that I unfortunately had to miss.
- The perfect start for me on Saturday was a presentation by Patricia Keller about the Sampler Archive Project. Pat was also involved in the Quilt Index, and I’ve enjoyed learning from Pat about both these two projects, which have been pioneers in presenting focused collections of material culture. My team at HistoricDress.org can learn much from Pat’s work on these projects.
- Bridget Baird and Cameron Blevins (a mother/son team!) presented Digital Diaries, Digital Tools: A Comparative Approach to Eighteenth-Century Women’s History. They provided a great introduction to topic modeling, and its pros and cons in application to the diaries of Martha Ballard and Elizabeth Drinker. I was reminded of how the entries in many historic diaries are not unlike the mundane tweets of which we are critical today. They also made me think about how calendars/planners now carry much of the data that diaries did then – I wonder how they will be studied in the future?
- Jen Palmentiero (from Hudson River Valley Heritage), and Joanna DiPasquale and Laura Streett (from Vassar, where I’m very lucky to have their support and advice for my own project) presented Using Archives and Metadata to Uncover Women’s Lives: Challenges and Opportunities for Scholarship through Archives and Digital Libraries. Their 3 presentations worked perfectly together, showing the trajectory of tech development to use. Several of their examples demonstrated how technological choices are impacted by factors that are decidedly non-technical, such as funding and institutional culture. Laura’s examples of findings in the digital archive indicated how digital search and discovery can lead to the consideration of different search terms and other practices moving forward.
- Erin Bush, a PhD student at George Mason University, presented Beyond a Reasonable Doubt: Executions of Women in the United States, showing how she is using data science both to help frame her research questions and to try to answer them. Considering the questions she was asking of this particular dataset, she got me thinking about what questions we can ask of objects, given the datasets that are coming available as museum collections are beginning to share APIs for access to data. What questions will a PhD student in 10 years be able to ask of the data coming out of the APIs of the DPLA, or of the projects I’m working on, like HistoricDress.org? What different metadata do we need to be collecting about objects to be able to ask different, better questions? I tried to touch on this briefly in my own presentation, a little later.
- Monica Mercado presented On Equal Terms? The Stakes of Archiving Women’s and LGBT History in the Digital Era, raising important issues around some of the tensions of building digital collections related to gender and sexuality history.
- Mia Ridge presented New Challenges in Digital History: Sharing Women’s History on Wikipedia, a subject I’ve been very interested in, though I regret that I didn’t have the time to participate in the #tooFEW (Feminists Engage Wikipedia) project through THATCamp Feminisms last month. A highlight of her talk, for me, was the simple act of changing a name to red to indicate that there is no dedicated Wikipedia page for that person (making the archival silence visible, as it were), and then the power of changing that red to blue by completing a page for that person.
In our own presentation we ran into some tech difficulties which resulted in me presenting from my laptop screen to a crowded table, but our wonderful moderator, Marla Miller, kept us on track, and we made some great connections in our packed room, with a wonderful (though too brief!) discussion. I shared my work on Fashioning an Education: 150 Years of Vassar Students and What They Wore, which you can also see as a Prezi. Next, Astrida Schaeffer presented on The New Hampshire Historic Dress Project. Finally, Kiki Smith closed our session by discussing our goals, and our work so far, on HistoricDress.org. This was a great opportunity for members of the HistoricDress.org team to connect and continue to brainstorm our next steps, and even to grow as we identified new partners among conference goers.
Throughout the weekend there were concerns both for the segregation of women’s history and for the failures of “add women and stir” models. This has had me thinking about how historic costume collections are both victims of sexism and examples of reverse sexism – men’s clothing artifacts are preserved much more rarely than women’s. Of course, this means that costume collections aren’t respected in broader circles, as they are considered feminized and therefore superficial. Digital costume projects have great potential to use artifacts of clothing to fill in some of the narrative of women’s history that is missing, but we have to challenge the stereotypes of superficiality at every turn.
Michelle Moravec summed it up well with the title for her blog post following the event - Was Women’s History in the Digital World the First Berks of Digital Women’s History? Indeed, I hope to be able to attend the 2014 Berkshire Conference of Women Historians, and to see many from #WHDigWrld there, and to return to Bryn Mawr for a 2nd conference on this theme in the future. Many thanks to Jennifer Redmond and her team at the Greenfield Center for bringing us all together.
Two weeks ago I attended an event for Vassar faculty on the subject of the future of libraries and scholarly writing. The full title was “The End of Books? Knowledge Creation, Scholarly Communication and Shaping the Library of the Future.” I’ve seen tweets and blog posts from others around the country after similar events, so it seems this subject is on the collective mind of higher education. Overall, the evening seemed to be standard fare in terms of the conversations around the country, with the following presentations:
- facts and figures about the percentage of the library’s volumes that have never circulated, and the percentage of volumes that are available in digital format through the Hathi Trust
- the technological virtues of the codex and the intellectual virtues of curling up with a book in codex form and reading it without interruption
- the pressures on scholarly publishing, as even an established scholarly author is asked to sign away his royalties and front $15-20,000 for publication expenses
- facts and figures about the economic factors of the choice between printed books and e-books, in terms of both finance and carbon footprint
The conversations after were as varied as the four presentations, but each conversation I moved in and out of had an element of the participants’ personal preferences (digital or analog, shall we say) and an element of fear for their students’ future. I just have a few thoughts to voice again here in response to all that.
First of all, that love of curling up with an “old-fashioned” book makes several assumptions, all based on a position of privilege. To be able to curl up with a book you have to have:
- access to the book in the first place, either able to buy it or borrow it. The presumption that library access is available to all is false, as library privileges can be based on finances – a library card holder can have borrowing privileges rescinded if she can’t pay the fine for that book she (or a family member) lost
- not only the ability to read, but the ability to understand the narrative of the book, which may include cultural references understood only through an advanced education
- two functioning hands, able to hold a book for a long period of time with one hand, and flip pages with the other
- the time to spend reading, a luxury for many who are required to work overtime, or more than one job, or who are care-takers for family, and are too fatigued after such work to read at length without falling asleep
Of course, in our privileged institutions, it is rare for either faculty or students to have personal concern for any of these issues (except maybe the last), so these are all moot points in this particular discussion, but I wanted to remind us all of the privileged position from which we speak. Acknowledging such privilege, haven’t we agreed (and doesn’t the ADA enforce) that what is important in the act of knowledge creation is the intellectual content, not the physical format?
So what of the fear for our students’ future, for the future of research and scholarship? What of the fear that a Vassar student today is unable to sit down and read a book from cover to cover without giving in to numerous electronic and extra-curricular interruptions?
- do we really think this is that different from 20 years ago, or even 50 years ago? Haven’t Vassar students always been over-committed, and struggling to learn to prioritize? I know I was 20 years ago (yes this is my reunion year, class of 1993), and my mother has agreed that she was 45 years ago (also a Vassar alum, class of 1968)
- what curricular motivation is given to a student to sit and focus on one book? The last I checked, most syllabi included more articles or chapters than full length books, jumping from topic to topic and from author to author to cover a wider range of knowledge on a particular subject (for good reason). Typically, only literature courses allow for close reading of one volume
- Also, we have to remember that the nature of a liberal arts education, which we prize, is that the 4-5 classes a student will be taking simultaneously are likely to include a range of subjects that in themselves are likely to “interrupt” each other (as they enrich each other), as a student moves from a literature paper to Russian homework to a chemistry lab assignment.
I will venture to say that a great deal of what we are talking about here has to do with work habits, something that takes our students four years or more to develop. It is the job of faculty to develop meaningful assignments that will motivate students to set aside the interruptions for a while, whether these are digital or analog interruptions. An important part of a student’s development is that ability to prioritize which academic assignment (of many) should come first, and where their extra-curricular commitments should fall into the plan. This doesn’t happen overnight, and even when it does happen, that book (in whatever form) may not rise to the top of the list.
There is much much more to be said on all of the subjects presented at the Intellectual Buffet; this is a conversation that continues all over the country. I look forward to seeing how the conversation develops, and whether or not the conversation will be that different 10 years from now when my daughter may be in college.
*note on the Intellectual Buffet: I believe this is a yearly event for faculty at Vassar, though this is the first time I’ve gone. No, they don’t eat the intellectuals, they eat after the intellectuals speak on a given topic – though I think it might be fun to fight over who is the most intellectual and therefore would make the tastiest treat. I am far from the top of the intellectual list in that crowd, so I would be safe.
I don’t believe in ghosts, I believe in history.
That’s the voice that speaks to us from beyond the grave. It is all around us, speaking out to us wherever we go, but only some of us can hear it (or choose to). It doesn’t need to have the magic of the occult, the mystery of the paranormal, to get its strength. For me the voice of history can be loud and clear, and sometimes scary, without the metaphors of ghosts. But that’s not true for everyone, so perhaps it is natural that popular culture has taken historical artifacts in this direction.
I keep running into examples in TV and film of what I think of as the “Undead Object,” an artifact that has taken on a supernatural life of its own long after the demise of the people who made or used it. Perhaps you’ve had similar thoughts when watching Ghostbusters, Child’s Play, Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Mummy, Tomb Raider, Harry Potter - oh, and there’s the Librarian series, which I haven’t actually watched yet – I have to get my hands on that. Many of these are concerned with objects that derive their power from a sacred connection, but think of the term sacred as relative.
I started thinking about all of this when the TV show Warehouse 13 first appeared back in 20091. I was intrigued by the premise – that a pair of Secret Service agents are responsible for tracking down supernatural artifacts (including Lewis Carroll’s mirror and Edgar Allan Poe’s pen) and packing them safely away in the warehouse, where they can’t hurt anyone. The issue of access to historical objects is one that’s very important to me, so I’m fascinated by the vision of a collection manager hoarding things carefully away. It makes me think about how museums perhaps conspire in developing this kind of aura around an object. Really, when an artifact is packed away in a drawer, or even out on view but behind glass, most of the time it’s to protect the object from its audience – but how clever to get the general public to think it’s the other way around – that we need to be protected from it.
Certainly the object behind glass easily comes to have that feeling of being Undead – once so connected to living, breathing people, but now cut off from them. A phrase in Sherry Turkle’s book Evocative Objects: Things We Think With (2007), started to articulate some of this for me:
Some [objects], however, seem intrinsically evocative – for example, those with a quality we might call uncanny. Freud said we experience as uncanny those things that are “known of old yet unfamiliar.” The uncanny is not what is most frightening and strange. It is what seems close, but “off,” distorted enough to be creepy. It marks a complex boundary that both draws us in and repels . . . (p. 8)
As much as we may love to visit museums and historic estates, architecture and objects can indeed be creepy: costumes on mannequins without heads, objects untouchable, enshrined behind glass. Most of the time, attempts to include context are brief, and so much is missing, leaving the object feeling empty, stolen. The objects feel incomplete without a connection to the people who made them and used them. They feel sad, longing:
The chair that no one will ever again sit in,
the cup that no one will ever again drink from
the dress that no one will ever again wear.
I certainly am not advocating that we sit, drink, wear. With sitting, drinking, wearing, we wear objects out, and their voices are silenced sooner than later. This is why I feel so lucky to have had the training and experience to know how to properly handle clothing artifacts, so that I can work with such objects hands on, in a way that is less formal and more personal. In this way I have more of a direct connection to the people implicated by the object, so the voice of history that I hear is friendlier and more complete, not as much a mystery as an open conversation. I get to flesh out this conversation beyond the brief exchange with an object behind glass and its tombstone2 label on the wall. This is the conversation that I want to open to a wider audience, using the access that digital tools can provide.
But I recently found that even the aspect of digitization has been touched by the supernatural when played out on TV. When I was originally watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer on TV the first time around, how did I miss the episode called “I Robot You Jane”? I’m starting to watch the series over with my daughter, and I was delighted to find this episode, which specifically addresses the power of a demon entering the internet through a scanned book. What an incredible warning to digital librarians like myself! However, in the real world, the general concern with digitization is just the opposite – that the digital surrogate can never come close to capturing the aura of the original object. The digital librarian’s challenge is to find the right balance of capturing some of the essence of the object while paying respect to its physical original.
Regardless, the fact is, I see dead people.
Sitting in the chair,
drinking from the cup,
wearing the dress.
It’s not spooky at all. It’s just history, an appreciation of what can be studied from the past, coupled with imagination. I want to help you to see them, too, and to hear their voices.
1Unfortunately, the show just wasn’t as good as its premise, in my opinion, and I don’t think I’ve watched it since 2009.
2Did you ever think about why they call it a tombstone label? Dead? Or Undead?
Turkle, S. (2007). Evocative Objects: Things We Think With. The MIT Press.
On my commute to work, I pass several different institutions that are (or used to be) convents or monasteries or seminaries, nestled in along the Hudson River. There’s also an episcopal church that has one of those lettered signs out front with interesting and often funny sayings to get your attention. But one of the seminaries seems to be under “new management,” shall we say, and has a flashy new sign with a computerized display and some fairly evangelical messages.
The one that caught my eye the other day was “Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”
I don’t think the train of thought that followed is what they had in mind.
The beginning of wisdom . . . this rings a bell. Yes, as a first year library and information science student, I’m thinking a lot about the whole data – information – knowledge – wisdom paradigm. Where would “Fear of the Lord” fall in this paradigm? Would “Fear of the Lord” be knowledge, and if so, what raw data would lead to making someone fearful, and how would that data be taken in as information, and then transformed into knowledge? If it’s only the beginning of wisdom, what other knowledge needs to join it, for it to truly become wisdom? What form would this eventual wisdom take? What if the same data is interpreted differently by someone else, and it does not lead them to be fearful, but rather to feel a different way? Is their interpretation a mis-interpretation and therefore will not lead to wisdom?
What about all the different aspects involved in facilitating knowledge creation, as described in the “Facilitating” thread of Dave Lankes’ The Atlas of New Librarianship (p. 66): access, knowledge, environment, motivation. What environment builds fear? What motivates fearfulness? Who has access to whatever might make you fearful? What existing knowledge do you need to build fear?
Don’t take me too seriously/theologically here, folks – this is just a tongue in cheek look at how I’m starting to see everything with librarian-vision!
Now, since driving past, I’ve looked this phrase up and found that it is from both Proverbs 9:10 and Psalm 111:10 of the Bible. I’ve also found an article in the local paper about how this site was formerly the Mount St. Alphonsus seminary of Redemptorist priests, and is now becoming a high school for the Bruderhof community, a protestant community with some similarities to the Amish and Mennonites.
So, how about you – have you ever had a moment when something you saw along the side of the road sent your brain into the land of theory? If so, please share it as a comment so I know I’m in good company!
Lankes, R. D. (2011). The atlas of new librarianship. Cambridge, Mass. : MIT Press .
As a part of librarian bootcamp, we had a field trip to visit Special Collections at SU, and to “oo” and “ah” over some amazing artifacts. One of my classmates asked if any of the objects had been digitized, and could be viewed on a website, and shared with others. Afterwards I found that for some of these objects, the answer is yes. But the host for our visit, Dr. Lavender, gave a quick and more general reply, about the difficulty of capturing the essence of these three dimensional objects in a digital format. Of course he’s right, but of course my classmates and I have good reasons for wanting to be able to “visit” these objects again, even if it’s just a digital visit. I have written about this in other places, including a couple of posts on this blog – I feel strongly that digital collections are an extremely important supplement to physical collections of historic objects. But, yes, careful scanning of such rare and fragile objects is difficult, dangerous, and expensive.
But what if we could just videotape Dr. Lavender’s presentation? I think that sharing videos of people interacting with objects is a great compromise. We can’t yet digitally capture the feeling of the weight of the book, or the texture you feel when you turn the pages, or the smell that wafts up when you open it. But we could capture his passion for these objects, his explanation of what each object expresses to him. We could get a sense of the weight and the texture by how he holds it, or how he verbally describes it. In such a video, we would benefit not only from exposure to the object, but also from exposure to the librarian’s expertise and emotion.
Yes, ideally we would also want a format in which the object could speak for itself, with as little mediation as possible, to allow for alternative perspectives from different people. But for many historic objects, especially ones that are rare and fragile, only a select few highly qualified people are ever allowed that kind of unmediated access. The rest of the time, it’s a part of a brief and supervised visit, or inside a glass case. What if we could use video, even just at its most cheap and efficient, as a way of capturing not just the object, but also the interaction with it, and the conversation it inspires?
So, yes, the librarians come last. The thread on “Librarians” in The Atlas of New Librarianship, that is.
While writing these posts, it has been very hard to divide these ideas into separate threads, they are so deeply woven together into the whole cloth of librarianship. Of course, Lankes had to deal with that himself, so I certainly can’t expect to have an easier time of it. It’s the librarians that are really woven in throughout this book and these concepts.
But, guess what? This is the part that I struggle with the most. Throughout these posts I’ve been talking about librarians and referring to myself as one, but that doesn’t actually come trippingly off my tongue. On the one hand, traditional (mis)perceptions of librarians (the shushing, pinch-faced bunhead who will protect the book, not the reader) are firmly ingrained in our culture. On the other hand, during this Information Age, both the values and skills of librarianship are now distributed among many different people, jobs, places, and tools. The mission expressed in the Atlas is carried out far beyond libraries, and far beyond librarians. So why on earth am I paying dearly with my time and money to go back to school to become a librarian?
There’s a real irony here. I want to become a librarian so I can be a part of changing the world to be a place where everyone can be their own librarian. I am pursuing a degree through online education, so that I can position myself to help break down the current system of academia and help build a system in which everyone has access to knowledge building and can be recognized for their knowledge and skills, not just their credentials.
What I want to do as a librarian is to help teach our communities how to take on librarian-like behavior themselves. If a community is filled with the spirit of librarianship, then does it matter if someone is specifically designated as librarian, or has an advanced degree? I’ve been librarian-ish, without realizing it, without even thinking of wanting to formally become a librarian, for most of my life. Can’t I help draw that out in other people? How much of our mission is to provide our skills in our communities, and how much of it is to spread our skills to our communities?
There’s a whole uproar right now over the idea that in online environments, people are calling themselves curators or archivists to describe their information organizing activites, even though they don’t have any credentials. Some of it is pretty abominable, but rather than criticize this behavior, I think it’s our job to spread the knowledge of how to do it better. Digital technologies and other aspects of 21st century culture have led people to be more self-sufficient, in many ways, including their information seeking behavior. I think we should support this rather than criticize it.
So, what’s the place of the librarian in the future? Perhaps I need to settle more into the idea of being a librarian in the present before I can really tackle that question. I’ll get back to you.
Lankes, R. D. (2011). The atlas of new librarianship. Cambridge, Mass. : MIT Press .
The Mission of Librarians is to Improve Society through Facilitating Knowledge Creation in their Communities (Lankes, 2011)
It is significant that “improve society” is at the beginning of this mission statement, not at the end – chronologically it should be at the end, but conceptually we need to put it first. If we’re not trying to make the world a better place, even just in some small way, why bother?
But how? It’s easy to feel powerless with all the challenges our world faces today (and has faced, and will face). What is our power?
“Librarians believe that more information from more sources will lead to better decisions.” (p. 119) This sentence may sum up how I have found my calling in librarianship. At my worst, I overthink things. At my best, I research issues extremely thoroughly, leading to the best decisions – informed decisions. Perhaps I need to work on my efficiency in this regard, but being thorough is definitely one of my strong suits.
One of the challenges of any attempt at thorough research is the need to be flexible, and open to surprise. It’s impossible to be completely unbiased – as soon as you choose a word to search, some bias has entered the equation, even just by virtue of the language of the word you choose. So an important skill is to be open to, and even to specifically seek, resources that contradict your expectations.
There’s lots of conversation about the fact that we now live in an age of information abundance, contrasted with the world of information scarcity that librarianship evolved from. Our challenges are not so much information seeking as information choosing. Lankes discusses the idea of “satisficing,” from the research of Herb Simon, describing a tendency for people to choose convenient information over information that is “potentially higher quality” (p. 119). Not necessarily because of laziness, but more because of a desire for efficiency: “they trade what is at hand against the uncertainty of whether they can do better” (p. 120).
I have found that teaching my students time management is as important as any of the other content I might share with them. Our world seems to be getting more and more complicated every day, and most of us have more and more demands on our time. There is a time and place for satisficing! But it’s important that we learn, and that we teach, when it’s appropriate to settle for convenient information vs. when it’s important to search more deeply for “better” information.
My work of late has been very tied to history, and to artifacts, but in service of this goal of helping people make informed decisions. I find that it’s sometimes easier, across more distance of time, to consider the factors that affected decision-making processes in the past. I also find that an analysis of seemingly unimportant decision-making, like what was eaten for dinner or what was worn on a particular day, can be very eye-opening when considered many years later, showing how even the smallest decisions relate to larger issues. It’s hard for us to see this in our own lives, as we’re living them, but when we consider it in the past, it draws attention to the factors that affect our decision making even now.
One of the best ways we can help the world is to help the people in it to make thoughtful, informed decisions. There’s a whole scale of how active, or not, that this help can be, but at any level, this is our power.
Lankes, R. D. (2011). The atlas of new librarianship. Cambridge, Mass. : MIT Press .