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Straight Talk for Troubled Times, Or The Street Finds Its Uses for Things
Stuart Moulthrop Openings are a problem in hypertext, but not so bad a problem as what one faces in conventional writing. In hypertexts and other sorts of machine-dependent "cybertexts" there may be strictly speaking no first line or lexia, since the starting point of any given reading may be computed on the fly. I once wrote a fiction that had a different opening for each day of the week. While this strategy may seem to complicate the problem of beginning -- well begun in hypertext is not half the battle, but rather some smaller fraction 1/N where N is the number of initial variations -- I find the indeterminacy of multiple openings oddly reassuring. Starting a talk like this is another matter entirely. Being stuck for a good opening, I fell back on an old trick well known to psychotherapists, AI theorists, and teachers of college composition. I made a list. Given the title of my talk, this turned out to be a list of troubles. Making this list did for me what it has always done for my students: it took my mind off the talk for an hour or so, the only problem being that the list grew rather long. So I cut out everything that sounded too much like Dave Barry and ended up with this selective register of complaints:
Trouble? What trouble? Times, it would seem, are great. Oblivious to all those distant rumblings in Asia, the western markets are brimming over with irrational exuberance. For the first time in decades, employment is booming and worker compensation seems to be edging up without an immediate threat of inflation. Our particular corner of the economy, information technology, has gone from a sideshow to a featured performer, with some people saying that the Internet will eventually affect our culture as deeply as broadcasting or telephony, if not moreso. It's certainly hard to pass a billboard, TV ad, or bumper sticker without glimpsing somebody's URL. Strangely enough, people do not seem entirely fed up with all this yet. According to last week's Times/CBS [Microsoft?] poll, Americans adore information technologies [15]. 59% of those surveyed agreed with the statement, "computers solve more problems than they create." Only 29% believed the reverse. (Strangely, 97% of the same respondents thought monopoly capitalism should be protected by Constitutional amendment, but that's another story...) It's certainly possible to disbelieve the hype, but even if incredible, these statements of faith in technology cannot be altogether ignored. The X-Files writers have things backward, of course: it's not the truth that's out there, nor do the media giants want you to "fight the future." For whatever dubious reasons, we are being told that information technology is the secret of our success ("Bill Gates is the captain of our side," says pollster Yankelovich[15]), and even in the most egregious propaganda there is usually some grain of historical determination, if not truth. Time are indeed great. The Cold War is over and everyone's a winner, even if some jackpots are bigger than others. We're told that a "long boom" has commenced, an economic recovery with amazing staying power, and the stimulant responsible for this "unnatural condition," as William Gibson[8] might have called it, is not Viagra but the Internet, an in large measure the Web, which is to say, hypertext. And that is why we really are in trouble. With fat times come high expectations. how much of the current fascination with information technology is driven by naive and uninformed consumption -- and I'm not talking about parents who spring for home PCs and Internet service so their kids won't be left behind -- I'm talking about executives at the Walt Disney Company who spent very nearly a billion dollars for a Web "portal" whose projected revenues are small at best. What does Disney think it's buying -- another medium for advertising? A convenient conduit to channel users to its content? A chunk of cultural capital the better to enhance its brands? Can Web sites deliver all these things? (Beats me, but it sure could be profitable to find out!) What if they don't deliver? (Then the executives in charge take their golden handshakes and go back to print, film, and TV.) More to the point, what if the Web delivers something other than what the mass-market-mouseketeers envision? (Ask not what the Web can do for your business plan...) We have now entered the territory of skepticism, and a dark and scary landscape it is. But fortunately we've been preceded in this journey by one of our own. In 1995, Thomas K. Landauer, former Director of Cognitive Research at Bellcore and Professor of Pyschology at the University of Colorado, published an indispensable book called The Trouble with Computers [13]. Professor Landauer's many considerable achievements include his participation in the SuperBook project, which among other things provided the first empirical demonstration that a well-designed hypertext can be more useful than a printed archive for certain applications. For those of us who have had to argue for hypertext in the face of stubborn opposition from book cultists, that research proved an invaluable resource. So when Dr. Landauer turns his attention to information technology more generally, I am inclined to pay close heed. The results this time are a bit different than in the SuperBook research:
While Landauer's claims may be arguable, especially his productivity numbers in light of more recent developments, there's no denying the value of his critique at a time when information technology aspires to the condition of, well, air conditioning. If you take Landauer seriously you will have to ask yourself some fundamental questions:
Which leads in turn to an event more interesting pair of questions:
However we begin to answer these questions, it's clear that we need to situate ourselves and our work on hypertext in relation to the major real-world implementation of hypermedia, namely the World Wide Web. According to the stories of our tribe, this conference has the strange distinction of having turned down the first scholarly paper written about the Web. I believe this was a defining moment for our community and one of which we should be proud. Okay, so we missed the boat. The point is, hypertext is not (just) the Web. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that Hypertext (meaning the community if not the technology) is what comes after the World Wide Web: and I mean after in both its obvious senses. We come after or belatedly in the paradoxical sense that the first shall later be last. Though many people in this room were designing hypermedia environments before there were Gophers in the earth, we all now live in the shadow of the Web's prosperity. And who can really complain? If HTTP has huge and obvious limitations, so much the better for those who know something about the sciences of non-sequential writing. Which brings me to the second sense in which this community comes after the Web: the sense of enlightened but adversarial pursuit. Ah, excuse me, here's some wisdom! Much of the work presented at this conference offers ideas that could directly benefit those of us who must daily struggle with the grievous deficiencies of Internet hypermedia. We might call this the progressive mission of the Hypertext community. A number of contributions (18 of the 29 full papers) discuss the Web in some substantial way (often by way of contrast). Seven papers (Hightower et al. [10], Durand and Kahn [6], Hayashi et al. [9], Kaindl et al. [11], Gibson et al. [7], Yang et al. [30], Shipman et al. [24]) propose specific extensions, implementations, or improvements for Web technology. Virtually all major threads of the conference -- System Design/Open Systems, Mapping and Abstraction, Link Management, Models, Hypertext Structure, Cooperative Hypermedia -- mark areas of development that could lead to substantial improvements in hypertextual practice. Open systems and interoperability studies address the chaotic proliferation of software and protocols. Systems for better abstracting, structuring, and mapping content keep up the struggle against the Web's undifferentiated sprawl. Link services or agencies promise hypermedia tools better adapted to collaboration and knowledge development, not simply transfer of data. If more of these innovations were implemented in existing Web clients and servers, cyberspace would be a much more civilized place. I do not mean to minimize the work of progressive improvement -- especially since it's what I do myself, in a modest way, in trying to train on-line designers. At the same time, though, it would be outrageous to portray the work of this community as simply a patching operation for HTTP. The approach to hypertext here has been and continues to be broader, committed not simply to optimization but to ambitious exploration and innovation. A splendid example of this was the panel on Monday featuring papers by Morgan Price [20], Cathy Marshall [17], and Polle Zellweger [31] on the conjunction of hypertext and annotation. Though all three papers were somewhat "progressive" in my sense -- laying groundwork for enhancements to current hypertext practice -- these studies also suggest a more ambitious agenda, which I will call a radical approach. Unlike progressive work, which either treats the question of utility as a black box or defers it to the user-testing phase, radical hypertext research comes more squarely at Landauer's question. It asks openly what we do and what we wish to do both with hypertexts and with other kinds of writing. In so doing it prepares us to ask how we have defined utility itself, taking us to the heart or the root of the matter. Oddly enough, our most radical work these days concerns itself with a very traditional medium -- books -- though it deals with this medium in a rather non-traditional form, to wit dirty books: though I use the term of course in Andy Van Dam's sense, which is also the sense used in markup and text-editing programs that refer to a file as "dirty" when it contains recent alterations or additions. Why are dirty or marked-up books important? Because they bring us back to a key realization about texts, writers, and readers. As Cathy Marshall says, "Readers don't just read. They commune with their documents" [17]. Or as Price and company put it: "In short, readers write" [20]. Readers write. They underscore and ventilate; they edit, correct, and re-sequence the text; they make laundry lists and doodles. We've known this for some time, and as Joseph Conte pointed out in the question session, literary scholars have been studying certain kinds of annotations quite seriously for generations. In what sense can we speak of this reader/writer collapse as "radical?" What does it have to do with the root question of utility? Let me begin by changing the subject. (It's a hypertext thing, okay?) Time has been a major sub-theme at this conference, and any mention of time must always include the present, which is to say, the current phase of history. To further define the radical agenda in hypertext I will need to talk a bit about history, by which like any good postmodernist I really mean the recent future. In 1992, a science fiction writer named Walter Jon Williams published an interesting book called Aristoi [29] depicting a society ruled by semi-divine beings who have learned to use Multiple Personality Disorder as a career asset. I have long suspected that Williams' demi-gods represent the evolutionary outcome of long-term exposure to hypertext. As if to confirm this suspicion, Williams includes in his future world a wonderful, galaxy-spanning information system called "the Hyperlogos," which archives every sign and trace (including personal sensory recordings) generated by anyone on several hundred populated worlds. What is it like to live in such a universe? Great if you're a demi-god; not too bad for the rest of humanity, most of the time; but rather lousy if you're a writer. As one creative type complains early in the novel: "Ours is an annotative age." And what a text to annotate! The trouble with science fiction, as Bruce Sterling once famously said [25], is that it keeps slipping off the fiction shelf and sneaking into the newspaper rack. Williams' Hyperlogos wasn't supposed to arrive for another three or four thousand years, but of course its first crude foundations were already in place (in the form of the Web) even as his book went to press in 1992. Ours is already an annotative age, and getting more that way all the time. Consider a case in point. A few weeks ago, being dreadfully late with my fall book orders, I was trolling the Amazon Books Web site for possible adoptions. A few years ago I had used Lynda Weinman's Designing Web Graphics [28] with some success, so I wanted to know what she might have brought out recently. A name search got me to this listing for a book called Click Here: Web Communication Design [27]. Since Weinman's earlier book still seems one of the best things written on Web graphics, and since the department in which I teach is called the School of Communications Design, I was practically fumbling for my credit card -- until for some reason I scrolled down the page and encountered an anonymous comment advising me that this book is mainly the work of Weinman's collaborator and that it is not up to Weinman's high standard. The comment closes with a single word: "Avoid." After I read this reader's report, my brutish consumer lust was considerably blunted. Even though the two succeeding comments are both positive, something about that first remark took me decisively out of acquisition mode. Probably this is because I have already bought more than one on-line design book on the strength of the main author credit only to discover that the text was written by a less capable apprentice. I may of course be wrong about Click Here, but the fact remains that I did not click anywhere during that browsing session that earned any money for Amazon or New Riders/Prentice Hall. On reflection, this seems an unusual if not a singular experience. I can't remember ever walking into a bookstore, picking up an interesting title, and finding a sticky note inside the cover that read: AVOID. Or having my friendly chain booksellers insist that they'd rather not sell me a book for fear of exposing bare shelf. Such things did not use to happen; but that was a long time ago, when we did not live in the future. Now things are different. Ours is an annotative age. Pocketing the unspent (or shall we say "leveraged") capital I had saved on Click Here, I made my way to my local chain bookseller and picked up instead Unleashing the Killer App by Larry Downes and Chunka Mui [5] I'll confess that I bought this book largely because Diane Caruso raved about it in the Weenie Weekly Reader (which is the New York Times information-industries section, for those of you with lives). Caruso, with whom I frequently agree, said this book could explain the new digital economy to corporation presidents. Since my attention span has fallen off drastically since I turned forty, I figured this was probably the right level of difficulty, if not tax bracket. Nor was I disappointed. Downes and Mui agree with Thomas Landauer about one thing: computers mean "trouble." But they seem to disagree about nearly everything else, since in their view the trouble stems not from computers but from antiquated business models that can't accommodate new technological affordances. Downes and Mui argue that companies need to shift their attention from information-as-property (i.e., a book called Click Here) to information as "public good" (a negative opinion about said book). A smart retailer like Amazon can conduct its business so that it gains far more from ostensible generosity (i.e., my admiration and many happy returns) than it loses on one un-sold book which may not be in its inventory anyhow. In the annnotative age, many things are not as they were. We no longer worry about the "death of the author" (nobody wants to kill them, just say nasty things about their work on the Internet). We worry instead about the death of our business model, cut down in its ripe old age by some rampaging "killer app." This it seems to me is a legitimately radical application of hypertext (it was on a Web page after all), or at least of annotation systems. Putting my experience at Amazon together with the PARC work on reading-as-writing, I am moved to wonder exactly what we mean by use when we talk about hypertext or the Web. Is the use value of user-contributed content the same as for authorial content? Can we deploy hypertextual annotation in enterprises still oriented toward traditional mass markets and commodity consumption? Or have we in our development of information technologies begun to shift or alter the definition of utility itself, from private good alone to a mixed public/private scheme? This slippage of definitions seems implicit in Landauer's concept of User-Centered Design, which he describes not as an isolated act but as a process of constant re-orientation. In what I am calling a "radical" approach to development, we recognize that technological applications feed back into the social and economic systems from which they arise. That's why we need to involve users in our work of research and invention: because they are the most reliable witnesses to change. That's also why I think radical work is just as important as the best "progressive" research on display at this conference: because it is our surest guide to the future in which we live now. At this point a little reality check seems in order. The sound you just heard [a brief digital audio clip] is a voice from our past. It belongs to none other than Ted Nelson, and it was recorded (on very poor equipment) at the last Pittsburgh Hypertext in November, 1989. All I remember about the context is that Nelson said it during questions following my paper but that I wasn't on this occasion the target of his disapproval. Nonetheless, let's apply his skepticism to some of the claims I've been making here. I hope Ted won't mind. Consider. First I want to tell you about our troubled times, even as Captain Bill and his microserfs are leading the National Commerce Team to glorious victory against the whole global economy (take that, Iran -- this time we're not talking soccer!). Next I want to claim that hypertext is the best thing since fluoride for leaching out the roots of mass-market capitalism. You may ask yourself, when does Doug Engelbart get on? [A "keystone keynote" by Dr. Engelbart followed this talk.] It does not take a certified hypertextualist to tell you there is always another side to the story. "Ours is an annotative age?" Well, take a note, rad-boy: Ours is also an age of oligarchy. In his "News Desk" column in last week's InfoWorld [26], Michael Vizard says we are about to see the emergence of "ESPs" or "Enterprise Service Providers," which are essentially Ross Perot's Electronic Data Systems on megadoses of growth hormone. As three or four exceedingly large enterprises come to dominate certain global markets such as auto manufacturing, their ESPs will be able to dictate standards and practices for information technology in many other industries. This is of course just a further extension of the current merger mania that has made the last years of the century an unprecedented period of business consolidation. Is this a "long boom" or just a protracted Las Vegas shuffle? Time will tell, but it seems foolish meanwhile to bet on anything small. In this regard, note this morning's announcement of the AT&T/TCI merger. Allow me to complicate the story, then. Arguably "progressive" and "radical" hypertext work have equal cultural and scientific value; but will they retain that equivalency when judged on some other scale? Work that collapses the distinction between authors and readers may be acceptable at Fuji Xerox (bless their corporate soul), but how would it play in some other F/X Parks? And while Amazon Books does well enough right now by capitalizing on the semi-public good, how long before my favorite on-line bookstore is acquired by Bertelsmann/Volkswagen? As John Leggett said when we started [14], this community enjoys a certain splendid isolation -- and I need to acknowledge that if it didn't, I would not be here right now. Be that as it may, by choosing to be scrupulously non-commercial, we have insulated ourselves to some degree from the ferocious logic of Engulf and Devour -- when was the last time two large American universities merged across state lines? (A trick question.) Well, then; was this all a joke? Since lunch is probably not yet ready, let us assume not. Though I have to acknowledge that the race is not always to the swift nor the prize to the clever, and that this story is really many stories, none with happy endings, I will try to argue for hypertext as part of a radical revision of mass-market utility. Actually, since I don't have anything like a convincing argument, I will offer an emblem instead. [The talk at this point refers to a brief Quicktime animation.] You are looking at an animated 3-D graphic produced by Sean Cohen, a graduate fellow at the University of Baltimore, as part of an essay on 3-D representation presented in 3-D spaces [3]. The author describes his work as a cross between a Renaissance treatise on painting and a classical "memory palace." This image comes from a "room" in the project where the author discusses the motivation for creating virtual spaces. Why bother to invent these things, he asks, since we already inhabit a three-dimensional world? Cohen answers this question symbolically or emblematically by using each surface of the moving cube as a panel on which to display another moving cube (whose surfaces, mercifully, he leaves blank). In itself this is probably not very impressive, a sort of beginner's exercise in computer graphics or a low-level imitation of M.C. Escher. But if you think about this image as an emblem or illustration, it might become more interesting. The difference between virtual and actual spaces, Cohen argues, is that virtual spaces are inscribed in some picture plane (the phosphor matrix of the screen, to begin with), having only an illusion of depth. Real objects, obviously, do not lie in a single plane. We traditionally regard this as a deficiency of pictures. They lack something that real objects have. But to make his point about the uniqueness of virtual space, Cohen plays with this familiar distinction. By turning the inscribed faces of the virtual cube into a system of picture planes, he introduces a new concept of depth. Virtual space lacks true extension, but it has something real space ordinarily lacks: an enhanced capacity for inscription. Each face of the cube is a picture plane. Every surface is potentially a window or screen. According to Cohen, this implication (in every sense of the word) is what makes virtual space interesting. All this may seem a fairly long way from hypertext, but perhaps the gap is really not so wide. In fact, without too much mental stretching one might see the faces of Cohen's implicated cube as a promising site for a spatial hypertext, which is just another name for "memory palace" in the first place. Cohen finds virtual 3-D spaces interesting because they open up possibilities for further depiction or inscription. Virtual space always implies more. If a virtual space had rigid and obvious boundaries, then it might as well be a photograph, a representational model, or indeed reality. But this reasoning is in fact part of a larger argument about nature and culture. It's really a version of something Jay Bolter said some time ago about writing spaces, including hypertexts [2]. Bolter observed that computers are fundamentally and thoroughly "semiotic" machines: they are made out of signs, and they are about making signs. Virtual space always implies more. So in fact does hypertext, and writing itself for that matter. Nelson taught us early on that conventional writing is a special case of hypertext [19], and we're reminded more recently that "readers write." More to the point, hypertext invites special attention to what is unwritten, or what though written remains unseen. Nancy Kaplan and I once tried to expand the simple node-link grammar of early hypertext to include a third term, a semantic space that contains all plausible developments of a given discursive line [12]. Now of course our three-part invention would have to be even further expanded to include many other elements, including structures, patterns, and time. But the logic of hypertext remains a logic of implication -- any traversal from node to node or transformation from state to state involves the reader in anticipating or stochastically constructing other possibilities, the territory outside the cycle whose existence the cycle paradoxically confirms [1] Which is to say, lines are always broken out of a larger space. Consider this talk itself. [A quick demonstration of a QuicktimeVR sketch of the talk's semantic space ensued.] We cannot say, of course, that the lines, relations, patterns, structures, or contours that we find in hypertext lead inevitably to some radical re-thinking of mass-mediated, oligarchic culture. That would be technological determinism at its most facile -- and being technologists, the last thing we ever want to be is facile. Among other things, such blithe assertions imply the existence of a hypertextual politics, which in turn implies a hypertextual civilization, and John Leggett is right to say we're not there yet. We're still camped by the river in our various nomad bands. A couple of notes in the margins of John's talk, though. First, there are some people ("evil Frenchmen," as Mark Bernstein calls them, all French nationals currently in the room excepted) who suggest that we might try being civilized without giving up the nomad life this time around [4]; so perhaps settling down is not all that important. Second, settled or not, the nomads are reproducing. I came to this conference nine years ago as little more than a graduate student. Now I have students of my own. John Leggett has students all over the state of Texas and the world (assuming that's a distinction you find meaningful). There were important new faces at the 1996 conference, including Engelbart Award winners Sawhney and Balcom [23], and there are fresh recruits this year as well (most notably from my point of view, Frank Ricardo [21]). We do have sustaining institutions: there is SIGWeb (the final "s" is silent) and alt.hypertext and HT-Lit and Eastgate. There is the Web out there, scary as it may seem. We do very much need the kind of archival record and culture-base that John Leggett calls for, but even without it, I don't think we'll become the lost tribes or Shaker communities of cyberspace. There is hope, and with hope comes an agenda. We might indeed work more concertedly even in our separate nations. In my view the system builders and the engineers already do an outstanding job of welcoming the literati. When I come to hypertext as a non-scientist, I enjoy a high degree of tolerance and respect. When I come to humanist gatherings as a hypertextualist, the reception ranges from bemusement to rancor. May the sys-buils and appsters and modelers continue to be so generous with their interest and attention. It's a wise policy. Over the years this conference has inspired a number of non-scientists to make important contributions: Nelson, Bolter, Landow, Joyce, Elli Mylonas, Diane Greco, David Kolb, Deena Larsen, to draw but a short list. The best of this work has eschewed the "flowerdy" jargon, instead applying interesting or transformative ideas to ongoing problems of hypertext writing, publishing, design, and development. One could draw a spectrum from the awful to the sublime starting with my own barbaric yawp of 1989 [18] (which would be the awful) and leading up to this year's contributions from Luesebrink [[16], Rosenberg [22], and Bernstein [1]. I'd mention the last two as particularly exemplary in their degree of practical engagement. We need to keep on on this direction. At the same time I want to propose that we add a new thread to our tapestry, or rather that we elaborate a pattern already well begun here. I suggest we bring on an ethnographic track, capitalizing on Cathy Marshall's very, very interesting study of textual annotation [17]. To reach back to one of my own loose threads, I might point out that Cathy's work supplies a key element of Landauer's user-centered design: close attention to the existing social practices into and alongside which we would introduce our innovations. Landauer says this is essential to making information technologies truly useful, and as I have argued here, that seems true even if we allow that our notion of "usefulness" must change. "Towards an Ecology of Hypertext Annotations" suggests an interesting departure indeed, and I think we should make the journey. So what's the use, then? To conclude, I'll echo John Leggett's cautions about the future. All postmodernism aside, the future is not now. We're not there yet. We're here, and these are troubled times. It's always darkest just outside the movie lights. Whatever their duration, booms scare me. But I'll also offer some mild dissent. This has been an outstanding conference, rich with stimulating ideas and controversies. I will say too, for what it's worth from a non-scientist, that this seems to be one of the best Proceedings yet -- Leggett's graduate students are out of luck in the hefty-reading department. There is reason for hope. We're not there yet, but we're in an interesting place. We aren't the Web -- hypertext is more than the Web -- but we're doing interesting things; good things; progressive things. Radical things! In the long run, that probably adds up to trouble. Learn to see trouble as a friend.
REFERENCES 1. Bernstein, M. Patterns of hypertext. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 21-29. 2. Bolter, J.D. Writing Space: The Computer, Hypertext, and the History of Writing. Lawrence Erlbaum, 1991. 3. Cohen, S. R.W. Deutsch Foundation Fellowship Project. University of Baltimore School of Communications Design. June, 1998. 4. Deleuze, G. and F. Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. University of Minnesota Press, 1987. 5. Downes, L. and C. Mui. Unleashing the Killer App: Digital Strategies for Market Dominance. Harvard Business School Press, 1998. 6. Durand, D. and P. Kahn. MAPA: a system for inducing and visualizing hierarchy in websites. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 66-76. 7. Gibson, D., J. Kleinberg, P. Raghavan. Inferring Web communities from link topology. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 225-34. 8. Gibson, W. Neuromancer. Ace Books, 1984. 9. Hayashi, K., T. Nomura, T. Hazama, M. Takeoka, S. Hashimoto, S. Gudmundson. Temporally threaded workspace: a model for providing activity-based perspectives on document spaces. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 87-96. 10. Hightower, R.R., L. T. Ring, J. I. Helfman, B.B. Bederson, J.D. Hollan. Graphical multiscale Web histories: a study of padprints. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 58-65. 11. Kaindl, H., S. Cramer, L.M. Alfonso. Combining structure search and content search for the World Wide Web. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 271-24. 12. Kaplan, N. and S. Moulthrop. Where no mind has gone before: ontological design for virtual spaces. Proc. ACM Hypertext Conference. 1994. 212-223. 13. Landauer, T.K. The Trouble with Computers: Usefulness, Useability, and Productivity. MIT Press, 1995. 14. Leggett, J. Camping on the banks of hypermedia literature: waiting for (a hyperliterate) civilization to arrive. Opening keynote, Hypertext '98 Conference. Pittsburgh, June 22, 1998. 15. Lohr, S. and M. Connelly. Most approve of Microsoft, poll shows. New York Times. June 15, 1998. D1, D4. 16. Luesebrink, M. The moment in hypertext: a brief lexicon of time. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 106-112. 17. Marshall, C. Toward an ecology of hypertext annotation. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 40-49. 18. Moulthrop, S. Hypertext and 'the hyperreal.' Proc. ACM Hypertext '89. 259-68. 19. Nelson, T.H. Literary Machines. Mindful Press, 1991. 20. Price, M.N., G. Golovchinsky, B. Schilit. Linking by inking: trailblazing in a paper-like hypertext. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 30-39. 21. Ricardo, F. Stalking the paratext: speculations on hypertext links as a second-order text. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 142-51. 22. Rosenberg, J. Locus looks at the Turing play: hypertextuality vs. full programmability. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 152-60. 23. Sawhney, N., D. Balcom, I. Smith. HyperCafe: narrative and aesthetic properties of hypervideo. Proc. ACM Hypertext '96. 1-10. 24. Shipman, F., R. Furuta, D. Brenner, C. Chung, H. Hsieh. Using Paths in the classroom: experiences and adaptations. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 267-76. 25. Sterling, B. Mirrorshades: The Cyberpunk Anthology. Ace Books, 1988. 26. Vizard, M. Are you prepared to face an IT oligarchy? InfoWorld. June 15, 1998. 3. 27. Weinman, L. and R. Pirouz. Click Here: Web Communications Design. New Riders, 1997. 28. Weinman, L. Designing Web Graphics. New Riders, 1996. 29. Williams, W.J. Aristoi. Bantam Books, 1992. 30 Yang, J.J. and G.E. Kaiser. JPernLite: an extensible transaction server for the World Wide Web. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 256-66. 31. Zellweger, P., B-W. Chang, J. D. Mackinlay. Fluid links for informed and incremental link transitions. Proc. ACM Hypertext '98. 50-57. |