Literary relationships

You know those books you have a special relationship one, one that goes way beyond the page, winding like a thread through your life? For me, the most intense of those relationships is with The Sun Also Rises, and it’s been a bit of a weird year in our relationship.
the-sun-also-rises-scribner-classics-cover

(my copy is missing more corners than this one)


First, the copy I’ve been carrying around since college just fell apart on me. By “carrying around” I mean it came along for my “comfort book” bookshelf when I moved to Italy (is this a thing for anyone but me? I’m not at home without a small pile of books I know and love), and it moved to England with me, and back to California, and it’s the copy I relied on for my grad school application essay. I bought it used, so it was never pristine, and it’s a pocket edition, so it was always terrible for marginalia, and I have three (!) more copies on the shelf at home, but still, losing this one feels like a loss.

And second, since my late teens, wherever I was in my life, I always found it a comfort that Lady Brett Ashley was older than me. Like, my moment hadn’t yet passed to sit at the center of a Great Work of American fiction. And this is the year that changes. I’m catching up with her in September. I’m afraid it’s all down hill from here.

On the other hand, this is the year I get to write a dissertation chapter on the book, and I just got to speak about the book on the Hemingway Society’s panel at ALA, so it’s a big deal for our professional relationship. I’m generally pretty nerves-free giving conference papers, but in a room full of Hemingway aficionados I was daunted. But I made it, and people asked questions, and even posted one of  my slides on multiple social media outlets (note to self: humanists like charts too!).
Screen Shot 2016-05-28 at 12.27.35 PM

(a chart about expatriates)


My paper was about the way scholars have too simplistically called The Sun Also Rises a novel about expatriates. The take away: let’s stop just calling this a novel about expatriates, and look at all the other forms of mobility in the novel as well.

Anyways, it’s a work in progress, and a piece of the dissertation, but it seemed to go over well, so I’m looking forward to developing it into something I can share with the world.

Research Slam

Last quarter I was teaching Public Speaking, and I watched as terrified undergrads overcame their speaking fears in order to stand before their classmates eight times over the course of eleven weeks. I don’t think of myself as being afraid of public speaking, but when the annual call came out for UCSB’s Graduate Research Slam (the UC Equivalent of the popular international 3 Minute Thesis competition), I realized the idea of participating made me nervous. So I decided I owed it to my students to sign-up, and face this fear! Also, as I prepare to go on the job market, I figured it couldn’t hurt to hone my elevator pitch.

 

So I signed up! And spent much too long drafting a speech, and got up on stage as the only contestant to bear notecards (look, I work in English and it’s our disciplinary norm/god-given-right to READ our conference papers, dammit!), and I made it to the next round! You can see proof here.

 

We’ll see what next week’s semi-finals bring!round-4-winners-cropped

Lowry, McKay, and the Modern Passport

Recently returned from a productive weekend at the annual ACLA conference, where I listened to lots of fascinating papers and really productive conversations, pieced together a few ideas for the chapter I’m in the midst of writing (about Paris American papers–stay tuned!), and talked a bit about that first chapter I wrote.

 

As I’ve seen in the past, talking about passports gets everyone excited. Generally I’m happy to be the silent panelist during Q&A, but passports seem to get people, including me, talking. Everyone has their own passport story (more like stories) they’re eager to share, and everyone is curious about the history of something we can’t imagine modern life without, and yet really is such a recent phenomenon.

 

My argument, in a nutshell is that in both Claude McKay’s Banjo and Malcolm Lowry’s Under the Volcano, the passport is a powerful tool—providing its bearer with a measure of the state’s power at the same time as it exerts its control, by relying on the document’s possibility for annotation and amendment. Marked documents replace the pristine passport as the novels’ organizing logic, and the potency of the amended document is repeatedly emphasized.

claudemckay

I wrote something!

At both 2014’s Modernist Studies Association conference, and 2015’s MLA convention, I gave talks about Jean Toomer’s 1926 novel Cane–in particular, about the curious “Bona and Paul” chapter, which was amongst the first pieces of the story cycle novel Toomer wrote, but appears midway through the book.

Anyways, the content of those talks, and more, appear in a piece that’s in this collection that’s now out (and even in some libraries!).

Screen Shot 2015-10-22 at 6.19.04 PM

It’s an interesting and eclectic collection, and I think part of the important work it unwittingly performs is to reveal how different the British and American literary canons are. That is, for the UK-based editors of this collection, Toomer is a writer well outside the common canon, whereas in the states he’s often taught to undergrads.

While my home campus library isn’t (yet) stocking the book, in a moment of sheer academic nerdiness I nearly Interlibrary Loaned a copy from UCLA, just so I could see myself in print.

Casablanca, then and now.

Left the classroom feeling rather myopic this morning, although thankfully there’s still time for me to remedy this: my students are watching Casablanca (1942) this week, which I assigned because it was thematically appropriate (my class is on “Americans Abroad”), and the film’s a classic yet digestible, and it’s not too long (the other option was The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999), which clocks in nearly an hour longer and we’re short on time). But it’s been awhile since I watched Casablanca myself, so when I put it on the syllabus (and then failed to rewatch before my class did) I was thinking about the “Cafe Americain,” Casablanca as cosmopolitan city, Rick’s little expat hub, transnational romance (or maybe the romance of the transnational), and travel. And then the film opened, and I got this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-pYG1Vbgq0o

Imagine my “surprise” when I was reminded that not only does the whole set-up hinge on the acquisition of exit visas (too late for this dissertation chapter, but maybe there’s a job talk in there for me…), but, in the film, Casablanca is the holding chamber for those desperate to get out of Europe, who can’t leave without the appropriate exit visas. Hungary much? Migrants trapped in a somewhat hostile middle ground that doesn’t want them but won’t let them out without the right paperwork…

It’s impossible not to picture this, or this, or, if you’re feeling hopeful, this.

If desperate images of drowned children washing up on the shore (I won’t link to that one) doesn’t prove to be enough of a rallying cry to spur some kind of real action, can Casablanca and its Hollywood plot and handsome heroes remind us of our role here? A reminder that we’ve seen this before, and that that time the good guys knew who to side with?

Luckily, it’s not too late to pose this question to my students and see what they think.

Words Matter

As I write about the historical expatriate, attempting to assemble a definition of this term and this figure–attempting to distinguish the modernist expat from the immigrant, the traveller, the tourist, the migrant–this week’s topical conversation about the language we use for the current flood of not-so-voluntary travelers seeking refuge in Europe feels urgent and familiar.

Rob McNeil of the Migration Observatory is quoted in this lengthy BBC exposition on the matter as saying “Words matter in the migration debate,” and news sources are examining their decisions to call those on the move migrants or refugees, assessing implications for necessity and voluntarity of these voyages.

These questions that I am trying to answer for the somewhat privileged individual in a historical moment are playing out right now for the less privileged. As I think about voluntarity and reversibility in the academic abstract, these same questions on UN paperwork are anything but theoretical.

I must not forget this as I write.

Database of Interwar Expatriate Geographies (DIEGeo)

If you remember, way back in November (the last time I updated this blog)  I was groping around for the right timeline tool to create my proof of concept for my final project for Alan Liu’s class, and I’d finally settled on Tiki Toki as the solution for me.

 

After Alan’s class, I put the project aside for a few months while I burrowed deep into prospectus land (it’s now complete and approved by my committee and department–I’m a real live ABD doctoral candidate!), but I had the chance to pull my project out and dust it off for the annual UCSB Transcriptions Research Slam (every time I use a term like “research slam” this comic from PhD Comics pops up in my head. But our annual Slam really is awesome!).

 

And since the project (which is still in an early Proof-of-Concept stage) got that limited public debut, I thought I’d make it available here as well.

 

For those eager to jump right in and play around, you can click here, but I’d love to tell you a bit more about the project, via the abstract I submitted to the Slam:

Proof of Concept of the “Database of Interwar Expatriate Geographies” (DIEGeo)

Expatriation has long been recognized as a central concern in interwar literature, as politics, economics, and transportation technology made geographic relocation increasingly accessible, appealing, or necessary for many artists. Much has already been written about communities of expatriates situated in particular locales (most extensively in the study of Paris as the home of the so-called “Lost Generation” during the 1920s), but what remains lacking for the scholar is a comprehensive mapping of the many artists living and working outside of their home countries during the interwar years across various locales, and the ability for researchers to self-select the set of artists to be appraised. DIEGeo, the Database of Interwar Expatriate Geographies, offers scholars in the humanities the ability to track which figures co-existed geographically, and allows for the visualization of shifts in the composition and geography of these communities. These capabilities can facilitate the development of ideas about artistic collaboration, influence, and synergy.

 

DIEGeo uses Tiki-Toki’s timeline software to display an interactive archive of geo-temporal information about artists living and working outside of their home countries during the interwar years. Manually collating information available from correspondence archives, autobiographies, and biographies, DIEGeo presents this information to users in the form of a digital database, allowing users to track the international movements of key expatriate figures in the period between 1918 and 1939. DIEGeo’s proof of concept includes partial data on the geographic movements of seven literary figures, spanning five years. It allows full user interaction with the limited database.

 

Here are just a few questions DIEGeo might help researchers to explore:

 

•Was a writer working in isolation, or amongst a thriving expatriate scene at the time of composition of a particular work?

 

•Which artists may have had face-to-face interactions with one another?

 

•Which artists relocated in unison with one another?

 

Check out DIEGeo here!

 

It’s pretty intuitive, but here’s a guide to walk you through it:

 

USING DIEGeo

 

  1. If the browser is no longer showing the timeline, hit the “Home button”

 

  1. Click on the “Tools” icon in the bottom right corner of the screen

 

  1. Choose either “Categories” or “View Type” to experiment with

 

  1. “Categories” allows you to choose which figures you’d like to see in the timeline. Figures are color coded, so it’s helpful if you keep this box open while viewing the timeline to be able to tell which figures you’re seeing tracked. Hint: Slide the timeline slider (at the bottom of the screen) to October of 1922 for the greatest concentration of figures.

 

  1. “View Type” allows you to visualize the data in different ways. The Tiki-Toki software’s most innovative feature is its 3D view, so definitely have a look at that, but the view type most conducive to questions of collaboration and influence amongst writers is Duration view.

 

  1. Clicking on an individual event provides images and insight into the source material for this fact.

 

  1. The timeline slider at the bottom of the screen allows you to move through the database chronologically. You can also search by a particular locale in the tools menu.

 

  1. Go wild (within the very limited scope of this prototype)! 

 

 

 

Some Frustration, Some Success: On Finding the Right Tool

The thing about still doing coursework while you’re also trying to write a prospectus is that it makes you want everything you work on to do double duty. Or at least, that’s what it makes me want—I have no idea about you—maybe it makes you want to get as off topic as possible, to stretch your brain (or relax it) into unexpected places, to form connections you weren’t expecting. Maybe that’s what I should be doing too. But I’m not.

Thanks to this impulse, all quarter long in Alan Liu’s “Introduction to the Digital Humanities” class I’ve been poking and prodding at The Sun Also Rises, to see what digital tools might tell me about it (pathetically, my most serious “discovery” came via a Wordle cloud which made particularly explicit exactly how central Lady Brett Ashley is in the book. Hardly a shocker, but also less obvious than one might think).

But trying to find new ways to “read” a single book seems almost a betrayal of those exercises of scale DH allows (N. Katharine Hayles has a lot to say about this in her How We Think ,Ted Underwood talks some about that here, and of course Franco Moretti’s Graphs, Maps, Trees thinks about it some more). As befits a class that began with Stephen Ramsey’s “On Building,” we’ve been asked to make something for our final project. Or rather, to begin to make something. To at least plot out something that can be made.

On creating a project…

And so, wanting to make something which would both serve my own dissertating (prospectusing?) purposes, and also exist in the public sphere for the use of others, I set to work.

I study literary expatriates in the 1920s and ‘30s. Hemingway and Fitzgerald and Paris, yes, but also the Brits who found their way to Mexico and California, the Yanks who set up shop in London or in the south of France. A list of these figures seems to spool on forever—think of a writer during those years, and, it seems, chances are they wrote outside of their native soil.

James Baldwin in Paris

One of the things I’m interested in is the positioning of these figures in space and time. Which figures might have spent time together and where? What kind of expatriate community existed at a given moment? We often take for granted (see Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris for an example of this) that these itinerant artists could all be found in one place, when this is far from the truth.

The project I settled on is a database of the movements of as many expatriated artists in these years as possible, so that users will be able to track just who was in Paris in July of 1924, and who wasn’t (here’s a hint: if Paris seems oddly empty in July, try Pamplona).

Ernest Hemingway in Pamplona

With a goal in mind, the work began of figuring out just how I was going to build this database—what tools are out there I might recruit to my cause? I figured the best way to begin thinking about this was to decide what I most want to emphasize in the database, and which features are non-negotiable. Working from this list, I hoped to find the ideal software to fit this project.

As I said, I didn’t just want to build something for myself: I’m interested in a certain subset of these expatriated figures, and other people are interested in a different set, and so creating a database (has someone already coined the term “lita-base”?) from which users can select which figures to track (from a much larger list) is an important aspect of this.

In addition to “selectability,” the ability to track dates on the scale of days was another non-negotiable point in this. Since I’m staging this project as a “timeline” that might seem obvious, but some programs working on the scale of the year (and some, less problematically, at the scale of the second).

Finally, the third component central to this project is the geographic. Ideally, I was in the market for a tool that allowed information to be visualized either on a map or on a timeline (or both!), but at the very least I needed the geographic component to be a glaringly obvious part of the visualized data in linear form.

On choosing a tool…

There are a lot of tools out there for creating timelines, so going into this I thought I’d be spoiled for choice. Based on the above, I knew that my priorities were:

  • “Selectability” (the ability to turn information on and off for particular individuals)
  • The ability to track dates on the scale of days, but also on longer temporal scales
  • The ability to enter geographic data (ideally with a built-in mapping function)

Here’s a shortlist of some of the MANY tools available:

This cite also has reviews of a number of other timeline tools, with an eye to their usefulness in the classroom.

The choices seem bountiful, so I’m ashamed to confess that I was forced to toss each one of these options out the window.

Why, you ask? Well here we go…

To begin with, let’s speak about what began as the most promising of these options: Timemap.
Time Map claims it can “use online maps, including Google, OpenLayers, and Bing, with a SIMILE timeline.” It has the option of the requisite filters to turn individuals on an off, as demonstrated here:

Screen Shot 2013-11-22 at 6.04.56 PM

There’s even the possibility of using heatmaps to chart the popularity of locations, and it offered the tantalizing possibility of both map and chart simultaneously.

And yet… here are the basic usage instructions for using TimeMap.

And here’s where I’ll begin my tangent… Like many of the tools I’ve tried out this quarter, this “BasicUsage” page really frustrated me, because frankly, this is only “basic” if you possess a certain set of knowledge, if you speak a particular language, and not the one most humanists have been trained in. Granted, this is hardly a problem reserved for digital humanities—this is how language works: we write our texts in one language to the exclusion of others. Books are written in English or Mandarin, and those who don’t speak the chosen language must wait for the translation.

Not to bore you with my close reading skills, but here are a few of sentences particularly inscrutable to the untrained:

  • “You may have noticed the onLoad() function called in the page as shown above. You’ll need to write that function, either in theof your HTML page or in a separate Javascript file. Fortunately, the only thing that function needs to do is call TimeMap.init() with the settings and data for your timemap.”

I don’t know how to write a function. I mean, I’m sure I could figure that out, but then comes the part about a “separate Javascript file.” Where would that file live? Which brings me back to an earlier part of the “how to,” where I’m told:

  • “Make an HTML page with a tag to hold the map and another to hold the timeline.”

WHERE do I “make an HTML page”? What does this even mean to make a page? Can I do this in WordPress? Elsewhere? (Before you ask, the answer isn’t to go back to the Simile suite and figure out the Simile Timeline use first—their explanations are nearly as cryptic, not to mention the fact that all of the examples they offer for importing data from spreadsheets, into a Timeline widget mind you, offer data sets that contain no dates, and therefore are difficult to use as models).

Look, I know how to get answers to these questions. I’m Google savvy. But this doesn’t fix the problem that this is NOT “basic usage” to plenty of people who’d like to be able to use these tools—people are spending lots of time and lots of energy to build tools without spending the little bit of time needed to build “How To” guides for their tools that really would make them accessible. The sheer number of tools I’ve encountered this quarter which are explicitly geared towards humanists and yet offer instructions that require we learn a whole new set of skills kind of astounds me.

Of course, much of the frustration I’m directing at Timemap is actually frustration with my own lack of knowledge. Suddenly, I found myself very sympathetic of my students who come to me flummoxed by the instruction that they “follow MLA citation guidelines”—like them, I’m being asked to speak a new language I didn’t even know needed to be part of my humanist toolset. Had I spent my undergraduate years learning HTML instead of Italian, I’d feel a lot more prepared.

I’m not trying to shirk the responsibility of being able to interact with our digital, technological world. I want to speak this language! I came of age in the ‘90s, so while I’m not quite a digital native, the internet has played a huge role in my life: I remember the lurid appeal of the chat room in 1995; the domains that hosted my early email accounts didn’t survive into the 21st century. I’ve never thought of myself as someone afraid of the nitty gritty bits of using computers: I’m the person who looks up the DIY guide to installing new memory cards in my laptop, and resets my PRAM when the projector doesn’t seem to be communicating with my computer.

But despite a very real desire and curiosity about these tools, many of them still leave me flummoxed…

Neatline provoked some of the same frustration as Timemap, although in a shinier package. Initially unsure whether Neatline would actually provide the functionality I was looking for, this hypothetical project they proposed made it sound like it might be ideal for me, as they suggest one thing that could be created in their software was:

  • “A geographic and institutional map of 20th century literary theory. We tend to identify clusters of literary critics with universities, cities, and countries – the Yale school, Russian formalism, Marxism and the Frankfurt School, etc. You want to plot the institutional affiliations and career arcs of ~100 prominent 20th century literary theorists, grouped by critical school, to explore to what extent the real-world locations and temporal overlaps of various critics do or do not correspond with the conceptual connections that emerge in their work”

This sounded like just the kind of functionality I needed! Unfortunately, perusal of the sample projects yielded no examples that performed this kind of multi-person temporal tracking, and their tutorials (both for the parent Omeka and for Neatline itself) again demanded a set of knowledge I neither possess, nor feel qualified to develop over the course of a single quarter. That said, I did manage to get a single event onto a timeline, and onto the map, so all was not lost!

Screen Shot 2013-11-22 at 2.16.26 PM

Another promising contender for this project was TimeLine JS, but you’re restricted to 6 categories which wouldn’t allow for the kind of “selectability” I’m after, and ChronoZoom didn’t seem to allow for categories at all. Viewshare was, frankly, dull to look at, so I gave up before I found out what other joys it might offer.

Finally, CartoDB, while it looks beautiful, prioritizes the map over the data oriented timeline. While I like the map visualization, I’m not willing to sacrifice the linear for the geographic in this project, as with the number of figures I expect the database to hold, I believe information will be easiest to access in the linear form.

So where does this leave me? With another program I stumbled upon: Tiki Toki.

I’ll say more in a future post about what Tiki Toki has allowed me and my project, and what its limitations are, but suffice it to say (for now) that its winning points are: (1) a lovely, easy to use interface; (2) The ability to create as many categories as I want, and to turn them on and off easily; (3) dates visualized at the level of days, not just months or years.

Most disappointing are the lack of a geographic component, and the fact that the ability to import data from another source is still in the works, but compared to my other options, this one seems like a winner.

Stay tuned here for more information about the project I’m conceptualizing, but in the meantime I’ll leave you with a snapshot of what Tiki Toki can do:

Screen Shot 2013-11-22 at 2.34.20 PM

Viewing and Reviewing The Modernism Lab at Yale University

Writers gracing the pinnacle of the mountains of “modernism” have a famously complicated relationship with technology. On the one hand, Eliot’s apparent disdain for the modern apparatuses of the typist’s life, and Heart of Darkness’s eerily discarded rivets like ossified bones come to mind, on the other, the unifying power of the airplane and automobile which travel through Mrs. Dalloway’s early pages.

21st century modernist scholars tend to be less ambiguous about the technological. Digitally, the study of modernism is thriving–something hardly surprising, considering the seemingly irresistible synchronicity of using all the media tools at our disposal to study the first era to offer such a broad multi-media archive (for example, this weekend I discovered that we have access to thousands of hours of recorded city-life sounds from the streets of Manhattan in the late ’20s and early ’30s.  This kind of aural documentation is a far cry from historians trying to unearth ancient sounds from shards of pottery or even from EBBA establishing a modern archive of recordings of broadside ballads hundreds of years old).

There is no shortage of  collaborations between modernism and the digital humanities to be found on the internet, from single-author or single-work projects like:

to textual and image archives, such as:

to digital collections of critical essays like:

and the blogs of those individual scholars whose work tackles both modernism and digital humanities, including:

There’s even a native Twitter account , which is, in their words, a “simultaneity project: replying Modernism on a 100-year delay.”

Alongside all of these looms yet another resource which is both all and none of these things—The Modernism Lab at Yale University.

Surprisingly, while contemporary academics seem widely aware that the the Modernism Lab exists, a search of the internet reveals nothing even remotely comprehensive in terms of a review or critique of the site, so individual scholars are left  to repeatedly puzzle out what’s to be gleaned from this vast archive (I’m tempted to call it a treasure trove!) of information.

Adding to that, the site itself is much more direct about what it isn’t than what it is–The Modernism Lab’s “About” page tells visitors it’s not “a collection of primary documents made available on the web” (like the Modernist Journals Project), and it’s not primarily a source for “authoritative essays on the period” (as they call The Victorian Web).

And what is it?  The site claims its “orientation towards ongoing research differentiates this project from other major websites devoted to humanistic research.” Their mission statement goes on to say “As a Laboratory, we hope to pose research questions and work together to answer them.” Heady stuff, but hardly an explicit description of what one might accomplish via the lab’s resources.

The real question those who are drawn to the lab must ask is  what can you (or I) do with the Modernism Lab? According to the lab “The main components of the website are an innovative research tool, YNote, containing information on the activities of 24 leading modernist writers during this crucial period [1914-1926] and a wiki consisting of brief interpretive essays on literary works and movements of the period.”

So what I’d like to do today is briefly consider the possibilities (and limitations) of these two features, and when they might (and might not) prove useful to a scholar like me.

First to the Wiki:

Unlike the YNote side of the site, which claims to only tackle 24 figures (more on that, later), the Wiki provides data on 26 authors from a main page, and an additional 45 classed under “Other Modernist Figures.” The amount of data on each of these figures fluctuates considerably, from a major figure like Joseph Conrad,

ConradWiki

for whom, as you can see, there is both a biographical article and subsidiary articles on many of his major works, to a figure like Clive Bell, whose name, it turns out when you click on it, appears in passing in a general piece on Modernist art.

CliveBell

Why these 71 figures were chosen, and why particular works were chosen, for Wiki entries  (for example, why is Nostromo absent from the Joseph Conrad Wiki, when both a previous book, Heart of Darkness, and a later book, The Secret Agent, are included?) isn’t a logic revealed to the reader, so searching in the vast corpus can feel rather hit or miss–but when something “hits” it’s pretty exciting!

Within these Wiki entries, the quantity of information to be found varies widely—there’s a long essay on Conrad’s little studied novella The Shadow Line, and a blurb on the much more widely read The Secret Agent (conversely, over at Wikipedia one finds little more than a stub on The Shadow Line, and a lengthy exploration of The Secret Agent, but this attempt to fill in Wikipedia’s gaps doesn’t seem to be a guiding principle for the site, and one easily finds correspondence between the Lab and Wikipedia, such as in the link to the Modernism Lab Wiki on the The Shadow Line Wikipedia page).

The authors of the Wiki entries are all named, so there’s not the familiar Wikipedia doubts about the source to contend with—these facts and analyses come either from the work of graduate students in Yale’s English department, or are adapted from project director Pericles Lewis’ Cambridge Introduction to Modernism. There’s no information provided on whether those unpublished graduate essays have been fact checked before posting, but with the project’s impressive editorial board it’s easy to assume the information is valid.

It seems that, if looking for information via the Wiki, you could easily get very lucky if you happen to be looking for a work or author who is the focus of a longer piece of scholarship (although you run the risk of striking out if the figure in question is elided from this project).

On to YNote, the Lab’s unique, proprietary, feature.

Here’s what the dashboard looks like:

YNote

I’ll admit, the first thing that struck me as I began exploring was the question of who is a “Notable Figure” (and why) and who is simply listed under “All People”? This is another decision where the logic is hidden to the user (the Modernism Lab was, in part, designed to accompany and support undergraduate and graduate courses at Yale, and one can imagine that these decisions which are inscrutable to the external user may be explained in the classroom). The “Notable Figures” list turns out to match the Wiki’s 26 main authors, plus Robert Graves, minus Marcel Proust and Franz Kafka—(this is a bit perplexing, as elsewhere on the site it claims to cover only 24 figures–to paraphrase Eliot, “who is the 25th who walks beside you?“).

What YNote allows is really very exciting: The Modernism Lab has indexed biographical and autobiographical works and correspondence archives in order to, in their words, “reconstitute the social and intellectual webs that linked these writers—correspondence, personal acquaintance, reading habits—and their influence on the major works of the period.”

Here’s what’s offered via YNote on a “Notable Figure”  (the lab’s turn of phrase, not mine) like Ford Madox Ford:

FordMadoxFord

Here one finds those people, places, and movements where Ford’s name turns up in the various documents indexed by the Modernism Lab. Click on “Dostoyevsky” and one finds an excerpt from one of DH Lawrence’s letters in which he says Ford (here named as Hueffer) accused him of “Dostoeiffskyism.”

Dostoyevsky

This is a novel way to explore hither-to un-catalogued interactions, but it runs into some problems when you find that sometimes the system is pointing to connections that don’t exactly exist. Clicking on the “Zurich” link, for instance, reveals not a connection between Ford and the city, but rather both those words appearing in the same reported conversation between Ezra Pound and James Joyce.

Zurich

Also a bit of a mystery is the question of how, even within the temporal boundaries the site limits itself to (1914 to 1926), YNote has arrived at this list of four geographic locales for Ford (Paris, Zurich, London, Italy—3 cities and a country, somewhat perplexingly), and not those parts of England or France where he served in WWI? Some insight into this can be found in which works are listed under the “Sources” tab, but why these particular sources were catalogued and not others remains a mystery to me.

Some Limited Conclusions on Usefulness

If it seems, perhaps, ungenerous to accuse the Modernism Lab of not being comprehensive in its approach when it is most certainly a work in progress and miles beyond anything else available online in terms of an information archive on these figures, consider this simply a wish that there was greater transparency in how decisions of inclusion and exclusion were made, as well as a desire for the bibliography of sources for the entire project to exist in a document easier to navigate than this register: http://modernism.research.yale.edu/ynote/index.php?action=browse&view=9.

I do think that including more details from the outset on what the user can expect out of the site would make it  more useful to researchers considering whether to wade into this massive wealth of data.

Besides the lack of transparency regarding the data set, the biggest problem I can point to in the Modernism Lab is that, with the departure of Pericles Lewis for Yale-NUS, the project appears to have stalled (there’s no evidence on the site that it’s been updated since 2012 or earlier).

All of the material and immaterial resources clearly sunk into this project make me eager not to see it abandoned by the wayside–the Modernism Lab is a unique resource for scholars, and, given the ever-growing number of collaborations between modernism and the digital humanities, it seems reasonable to hope that the site finds new leadership and continues to expand its scope and utility.

In the mean time, I’ve got my eyes tuned on another big modernist project in the digital humanities (or digital project in modernist studies?) in the works, from the Maker’s Lab:  http://maker.uvic.ca/big/