I like David Lee King’s blog because he writes first and revises [his ideas] later, which tends to garner both commendation and consternation. So, insomuch that there are canonical bibliobloggers, he’s one of them–consistently working through ideas in real-time under the scrutiny of the public eye. Certainly, he had to know that his post about this image was going to stir up some of the latent reservations and resentments surrounding “Library 2.0.” This may not have been the way to approach this particular discussion right now, but the silt has been kicked up again and it’s worth examining to gauge were people are on the issue.

For one thing, asking “how 2.0 are you?” suggests that there is some metric by which 2.0-ness can be established. That, in turn, would assume that Library 2.0 is a defined and measurable corporeality with quantifiable properties. Reading David’s post, I recalled a conversation I had with Stephen Abram quite some time ago where he said he was once asked, “is [so-and-so] Library 2.0-compliant?” Sure, and there is ISO certification for it too. Remember Mr. Ramsay’s relentless (and ultimately absurd) obsession with completing his philosophical treatises from A to Z? (Bonus points if you do, indeed, remember that) There is no Yardstick 2.0, simply a gradual emergence through a particularly interesting paradigm shift.

Steve Lawson is the closest to touching on this in his response:

I object when people treat “2.0” as if it were something that exists in some platonic sense. If you want to talk about 2.0 as a group of tools or techniques or ideas, I’m ready to talk. If you want to talk about it as if it were a state of nirvana that we are all striving toward–as something that one either “gets” or doesn’t “get”–I’m out. I don’t “get it.”

Except that David did not suggest, in any way, that L2 = Nirvana. In fact, his original post was a relatively heuristic glance at ‘L2ness’. The problem with it was that it landed in the no-mans-land between the abstract and the practical. There is, indeed, an existential component to Library 2.0, but it’s the same aesthetic that drives all librarians into the profession–chances are, if you’re reading this, it’s in you regardless of your thoughts on L2. What makes Library 2.0 different is that we can manifest that passion to share and broker knowledge in a fantastically new egalitarian space. We’re also more comfortable with the idea of non-authoritative information being valuable, which is a very important distinction because it means we’re willing to let the information itself be the experience. The 2.0 librarian is willing to reconcile the traditional instinct to provide certified information with the desire to swim in the ocean of transient data. The ability to do that is what, I think, distinguishes the 2.0 librarian from the 1.0. The Michael Gormans and Andrew Keens of the world have very valid points that nobody should dismiss–quite the opposite, we ought to be listening to them carefully so that we don’t bounce off the atmosphere and tumble off into space–but they are unable to, or haven’t been open to processing that concept. When David writes, ‘The Lightbulb - This is a major point on the Library 2.0 spectrum. Something “clicks” - The library/librarian realizes that the organization/librarian needs to change to meet emerging customer needs,’ I think he’s talking about this–sort of like the moment when a stereogram springs to life.

Additionally, the spectrum is not a very good way to represent Library 2.0-ness. I think Kathryn Greenhill hit the nail on the head on her Flickr comment when she asked, “Nice image…Is it more an evolution than a spectrum? I don’t think librarians would be going back to the left once they moved further toward the right…” and this gem as well, “Getting really abstract..I think it’s probably linear until that “click” moment, and then it should be fluid and experimental and maybe stop being linear at all.” In lieu of my recent post about the role of technology in the growth of L2, I found myself doodling this:

My thought here is that this is, indeed, a one way progression and, at some point, technology diverges from the essence of Library 2.0, though I think we’ll find that technology will always serve to further those principles and without it, Library 2.0 will flounder. That’s why we need to be vigilant for those opportunities where technology can re-converge to support and help grow the core library services that we hold so dear.

One more thing, I think, is worth mentioning here. I often see the comment, “well, this is the same discussion we were having [10-20] years ago.” Yes it is the same discussion with one seriously important difference. We’re now at a point where our hand is being forced. We need to make these decisions now because the parallel world of information that now accompanies us through our lives is evolving with or without us. Discussion is a tool that is far too often used to draw complacency out of the ground–and we’ve peaked in our ability to sustain ourselves on inaction. And this is where we should all be playing close attention to David–his tinkering is the type of action that is going to save our asses.

… If they’re able to drag themselves in to work!

I know all of ours deserve a good long rest. Great job guys, you’ve helped remind more than a few kids (and parents too) that the library is way cooler than Barnes and Noble.

Louise Berry (hands-down the most flickeringest library director in the known universe) has already put together a set on Flickr documenting the Darien Library’s Deathly Hallows launch. Some of these pictures should be ALA marketing posters.

There would be no Library 2.0 without the internet.*

* Restrictions Apply

To let everyone else in on what I’m talking about, Alan Gray and I had a discussion the other day over lunch about the nature of L2. I was trying to make the point that L2 is not all about technology, that a library can be Library 2.0 and unplugged, if it so chose. Alan feels that it is all about technology. The snark portion of the disagreement went something like this:

Me: “If the power goes out, we can still be 2.0.”

Alan: “That’s because everyone’s laptops and cell phones have batteries.”

Smartass.

He’s correct, of course, but so am I. We’re both approaching the same center from different vectors. As it turns out, this is a relatively unexplored finer point on the mercurial nature of Library 2.0. The topic was briefly broached by several people at one point, but never fully expounded. But it’s an important one in that it gives us a frame of reference in which to consider the types of services we are (or are not) offering in our libraries. It’s vital to understand why Library 2.0 is meaningful to us and if it is only because we’re in the midst of an intense preoccupation with its foundational technologies then that’s not terribly healthy. If, on the other hand, the 2.0 hive has cemented anything of true value into our collective ideology, then we have an obligation to apply it in our work. I believe it has.

Back in March, 2006, I put this image together and I have to confess that after posting it I thought I should have added “People” as one if its principle elements. But now I’m glad I didn’t isolate the human component in its own category. People are infused through all of these realms in too many ways to count–and not necessarily those that might immediately spring to mind. You may remember that during that time, the term “Library 2.0″ itself was under scrutiny, as well as the uncertain complexion of the very thing it sought to describe. In hind-sight, it appears that the people I’m talking about here were, by debating the existence of Library 2.0, becoming some of its initial architects. One of the paradoxes of the 2.0 world is that it is essentially a socialist system based on wholesale, acute individualism. The many unique voices talking about Library 2.0 have served to expand its meaning and sharpen its borders.

Interestingly, a mere one year later, most of us who talk about this stuff are talking about it as though it’s been around forever. Of course, it hasn’t and the debate really never resolved gracefully. Those that accepted it to begin with simply continue to, and many who were skeptical have come on-board with the anticipation that precedes a long, slow gulp of barium. Last week, Walt Crawford mentioned that he might revisit his well-known Library 2.0 Cites & Insights issue. I hope he does because this discussion is far from over and I’m very interested to hear his take on things these days. When he last took me to task, he pointed out that I was suggesting that ‘anything different is”Library 2.0″‘. Admittedly, that stung a little at the time because it was, in essence, what I had said and it was a flimsy assertion. But that’s blogging for ya.

So now I’m asserting that there would be no Library 2.0 without the internet. More specifically, that the internet was a prerequisite for what we now agree to call Library 2.0. Like an awkward adolescent, however, L2 will inevitably experiment with independence from its high-tech bloodline. Ultimately, if the power goes out and the laptop batteries die, we will be left with a profoundly different library. Certainly the one we hope to build here in Darien will reflect a set of attitudes that are less constrained by convention and more motivated by collaboration, empowerment, and hospitality. The first two of those virtues clearly come from Web 2.0, while the third reflects commitment to what many call Business 2.0.

We can transform our libraries in a number of ways, as evidenced by Leslie Burger’s transformation track at ALA this past June. But what I’m interested in here is how the internet has changed our profession, and what its legacy will be. There will come a day when libraries and networked technology are so closely associated that the very term “library” will be synonymous with “online” just as it is with “books”. As Jessamyn is quoted in the recent NYT article, librarianship is becoming “a techie profession.” For newcomers to the industry, that train has left the station–it is a techie profession. In the near future, new librarians will need to be technologists. At the very least, they’ll need to be able to participate in an information-centric community that requires all the disparate parts of the library to come together in a seamless fashion. The very best librarians will be able to cultivate those systems. We’re germinating an information ecosystem that is just now begining to sprout and it’s the next generation of information professionals who are going to bear witness to the full bloom. They’re also going to inherit what we do right now and play steward to it well into their professional lives.

And at the heart of it all resides the Network–an albatross to some, a blessing to others. The Network is four little octets, a new domain, a new human experience. And we’re dumping shit into it at a phenomenal rate without any thought as to where it will end up, how useful it is, how accurate it is. Typical human behavior. Yet its value cannot be overstated. The internet has a penchant for compartmentalizing its minutia in ways that make it seem sentient. There are gems to be found.

There is a lot of sludge too and that is overwhelming to the uninitiated. I’m reminded of Wordsworth’s Prelude where he describes the serendipity of finding a rowboat that he climbs in to and paddles toward the looming cliffs. As he approaches, a dark peak rises up before him and blocks out the stars causing a darkness that fills him with dread. For many, accepting this new world is akin to his journey back from that darkness because it is so different: it’s simultaneously huge, incorporeal, and iconoclastic. Libraries are the first stars to reappear in that night sky. We’ll help guide them through that wilderness. That is what Library 2.0 does–with our technology, our spaces, and with everything we offer. Without Library 2.0 there is only dead reckoning for too many people.

I was literally getting up at 5am and getting to bed well past midnight during ALA. I suppose that means it was a success.

Many thanks (and fond farewell) to Leslie Burger, who initiated and sponsored the Transformation Track sessions. I didn’t go to three of them so, alas, no T-shirt for me. I felt that the technology session (I co-chaired with Alan Gray) was very good, but how could it not be with speakers like Lori Ayer, Roy Tennant, and Casey Bisson? Incidentally, if your library is looking to retain the services of a first-class library consultant, consider getting in touch with Lori. She has made her presentation available online. Casey has also posted his presentation with commentary. Thanks to these three for a fine program.

Also, Eli Neiburger was kind enough to join me and be the spokesperson for AADL at my “Building the Next Generation Public Library Websites with Drupal” talk. My slides are now available and can always be found on my files page.

Sunday was a crazy day for me, I had about 15 minutes to grab a quick snack and head over the the Top Tech Trends panel. Kudos to LITA, who already has audio online. I really enjoyed participating in the discussion.

OCLC hosted the Sunday night bloggers salon. A big thanks to them for putting on such a fun and raucous gathering of good people. It’s always nice to catch-up with folks and put faces to names.

I had never met Jed Moffitt–King County’s head of technology. He’s a super guy who put together Monday’s “Wiking the Blog and Walking the Dog: Social Software, Virtual Reality, and Authority Everywhere.” A session name that was sure to draw a crowd, and it did. I only wish we had more time. My slides for this presentation are online as well.

I’ve been watching with some detached interest over the past few weeks as Michael Gorman decided to become one of the “blog people” and launch a blitzkrieg against what, one would presume to be, “all the other blog people.”

Oddly enough, given my personal feelings on the matters in question, I found myself not taking offense to any of it, nor am I particularly bothered by it, so naturally I needed to examine that a bit further.

It helps that his points are, by-and-large, valid when considered from within his frame-of-reference. And despite his very pronounced colloquy that seems to drive people mad, he is a concerned citizen with some legitimate beefs. But it’s two recent posts of his that betray his misunderstanding of our 2.0 world and his subsequent strategy for coping with it. The Siren Song of the Internet, parts I and II make it clear that he’s misinterpreting the music. His biggest mistake is to assume that the flow of information through the Net is a zero-sum game and that there should be a procedural framework imposed upon it. You might just as easily catch the wind in a bag and to expect such from the internet will leave you in perpetual disappointment. Which is obviously where Gorman is currently mired. He thinks it is the sirens’ song we’re hearing. But it’s not. (Incidentally, I always thought that the wind-bag setback was simply a matter of poor, untransparent management on the part of Ulysses)

It’s more likely we’re hearing a song like that sung “beyond the genius of the sea” in Wallace Steven’s “Idea of Order at Key West.” It’s a poem that can never be explained, only understood. It defies logical examination, but conveys far more than the sum of its words in a clarity that is either grasped, or not. The metaphor is much more relevant here:

She sang beyond the genius of the sea.
The water never formed to mind or voice,
Like a body wholly body, fluttering
Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion
Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry,
That was not ours although we understood,
Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.

There is no permanence online, there is little to no authority online, there are no borders online, there are fewer inhibitions online. “Online” has overwhelmed convention like a rising tide over a sand castle, it confounds giants like the RIAA and MPAA while simultaneously turning tiny David voices into Goliath ones. There is no pushing back against it. If information was a physical object, the internet would be a black hole of matter so densely packed that the laws of physics become irrelevant. So too are Gorman’s machinations, valid as they may be. They don’t apply, never will. We’re in a place where Apples can sometimes taste like pomegranates, where the down escalator often goes up.

But it’s not all naked chaos. There is a self-governing pattern of information exchange that arranges itself fractally into representations of a much larger truth. Sometimes we just need to back off and look at it from thirty-thousand feet before it reveals itself. But these are not truths that we can cite in scholarly papers or use as a basis for proof of anything. Ultimately they’re truths about the nature of humanity that present themselves for only a brief moment before they dissolve into another . Because the vehicle upon which all this has evolved is science-based technology, Gorman assumes its payload should, too, conform to the same laws.

Even though it’s not appropriate, his response to this nebulous new world is that of Ulysses’–tell his crew to put wax in their ears and lash him to the mast. So it’s no surprise to me that many of us (who he mistakenly thinks of as harpies) are really just sitting on the shore, listening to some really great music, sipping mai tais and casually wondering, “what the fuck is going on in that boat?”