“criticism”

As I mentioned a week ago, I am just starting to feel my way around McKinsey’s Quarterly but it’s been impressive so far. I recently finished reading the three complimentary articles I was granted upon registering (which is free) and they were all remarkable.

This (anonymous) feedback on Imagery just came on Saturday.

Some sort of auto-citation of images is a fantastic idea (as anyone who uses EverNote or Google Notebook will know firsthand) and my gratitude goes to whoever sent it to me, I’d never have thought of it myself. And yet, for a while I almost decided to willfully not implement it:

I strongly disagree with the way citations are usually handled within “education-land”: little more than curtsies one must mindlessly perform to pay respect to others’ property (and it is against such moralistic establishment that I am one of those kids who believes he owns the internet). Citation styles are taught and required simply as one more formal hoop for students to jump.

But citations can be much more than that! They allow readers to recover and rewalk the path the writer followed, and in that they perform an invaluable service to readers, but they can also be immensely profitable for writers too, starting with forcing them to walk paths in the first place (one is so loathe to do the slightest of researches when in the thrall (or duty) of writing, so very prone to simply rearrange one’s prejudices and call it even). Citations make for more rigorous reading and writing—that’s why we should encourage them (not simply because they make, arguably, good fences).

So yes, I thought I saw some of that ownership-based, rote teaching of citations (copyright-instruction) in that email—in a scared flash of exaggeration I glimpsed a DRM image-search engine—and my recoil reaction was so surprisingly strong I thought of deliberately not implementing any sort of auto-quotation. Lawrence Lessig has talked already on the power technology’s architecture has to regulate conduct and the weight of such responsibility was suddenly overwhelming.

Careful thought has shown me the error of my ways. My overreaction to such friendly (and helpful) feedback was not called for. An auto-citation feature in Domburi would be very helpful indeed and will be implemented. But it’ll be tinged with my prejudices and that means it will be open-ended.

Back when I was a serious download freak, always looking for that little app that’d make it all right, Nonags was one of my favorite haunts. They listed only freeware and well-behaved, no-nags shareware. The design was accordingly simple and unobtrusive (though quirky). How weird then that now when trying to download something you’re taken to one of those infamous “Your-download-should-start-automatically” pages, full of Google ads that don’t stand a chance of being remotely relevant (relevant to what? the “invitation” to join Nonag plus?). Worst, the cheapest, lowliest possible kind of popup (party poker! your computer is at risk!) creeps underhandedly (that is, hides beneath your current window).

This may sound silly but I was happy to read such a well-crafted confirmation email. Notice the avoidance of empty superlatives, the non-patronizing, the effort, not to sound hip or flippant or “professional”, but to be useful. The complimentary premium articles were the extra touch that made me want to share this with the world. This is persuasive (marketing) writing at its best.

The McKinsey Quarterly is impressive by itself too, most interesting and with the best graphs I’ve seen since The Economist (and they present them inside sexy, useful Flash “exhibits” that allow you to zoom in/out and pan around).

“I have this great illusion of dying exhausted rather than bored” has become of late something like Andrea’s personal slogan. I love the phrase—wrapped in downbeat words, it’s a souvenir of our own mortality that still manages to resolve in cheerful (maudlin) upbeatness—and so I thought it was time for a personal logo too. This came out after some fiddling and I quite like it, if I say so myself. (You will notice I’m still deep in my Bembo phase.) Tomorrow we’ll see if Andrea likes it.

The girl’s Sandman’s Death, which adds a nice layer of meaning (and copyright infringement for good measure) to the logo.

My final discovery of A List Apart—a magazine “for people who make websites”—has been late coming, but as the article I’m about to talk about explains, relationships in the web are just difficult to establish (they require “an exorbitant amount of synergy”, why-the-lucky-stiff would say). I’ve been visiting them fairly frequently along the past couple of years and almost always I’ve learned something valuable. It is not only top-notch content, the attention to detail is painstaking too, though it takes you several visits to start noticing it: from the spot-on illustrations (most by the very talented Kevin Cornell), to the helpful snapshot feature at the right, to the issue-number stamp, to the tasteful ads, to the impeccable atmosphere they maintain throughout, to Zeldman’s and Kissane’s careful editing—it’s not a print wannabe, it’s the first web-only alreadyam.

The cover article of issue 221 (as of this moment, the latest) is a gem and the reason I started writing this post. By Amber Simmons, it is wonderfully titled ”Gentle Reader, Stay Awhile; I Will Be Faithful” and deals with how to write (particularly, with how to write for the web) by introducing the never-before-better-named idea of a faithful writer—a writer who thinks of her reader, who anticipates her questions and curiosities; a loyal writer, respectful of her reader’s time and intelligence; a writer who delivers. Truly great advice—I know I’ll never write the same again.

I’ve been plowing through Humanized today and though it’s been somewhat less interesting than I thought it would be (perhaps my expectations^ELZR were just too high), here are two very worthy text scraps:

Indeed it is, but then we might as well feel warranted to pose the seldom-asked question of why are hyperlinks underlined. Dull utilitarian answers aside, an intriguing yet plausible historical explanation (or rather, re-interpretation) herefollows.

I believe our answer traces back to the humble clothe button^A, that immemorial “knoblike appendage^WP used on wearing apparel either for ornament or for fastening,” forgotten (as much else) during the Middle Ages, dismissed as vanity by the Puritans, and traded to Native Americans by early settlers.

With society’s mechanization through the first and second Industrial Revolutions^WP, there was dire need to create appropriate interfaces for the control of the suddenly ubiquitous machines and one of the simplest, most versatile methods invented came to be called “button”^WP, owing to its creative resemblance to the former fashion accessory (both were usually round after all).

One subtle point, which shall prove of great importance later, must be remarked now: Owing to human factors^WP, most control buttons are usually seen from a very specific angle. Words fail me to further describe it but perhaps some pictures can help to illustrate the matter: the keyboard on the ←left shows the usual, canonical perspective of buttons we’ve grown accustomed to since the late 18^th century, and any other perspective, say, the keyboard on the right→, feels immediately awkward.

But back to our story: When the turn came for society’s computerization, there was again dire need to come up with suitable interfaces for the novel symbolic devices. Abstruse command-line^WP interactions followed at first, but thanks to Xerox PARC’s^WP bitmap revolution¹ graphical interfaces^WP were envisioned (and, eventually, accepted). The new art form required new metaphors² and prompted a creativity explosion that continues to this day, but few metaphors proved more fertile or intuitive than the visual staple that became the “graphic button”. Beveled out, it’s “push affordance”³ invites interaction (a click, a push, a press) like nothing else we’ve come up with since.

⁴

With the advent of the inter-network, you guessed it, that direst of needs—the interface—made itself felt again. We needed a way to link geographically and semantically far-flung documents^EE together. So what if Ted Nelson^WP himself, hypertext’s father, was thinking in our trusty ole friend, the button, when he came up with his gift to the world?

The hyperlink might just be the latest, abstract, stylized reincarnation of our centuries-old pal, the button.

I’m ambiguous towards Seed. On one hand, it has excellent webdesign; features like a daily zeitgeist and cribsheets; articles like the unnerving Culture-shaping parasite, the funny Big in Japan, and the unexpected The Value of Small Things; and intriguing syndicated posts like Einstein in Lust and Getting Physical. Its Snowish^WP slogan—”Science is Culture”—is pure genius.

On the other hand, it lacks good editing at times and can be glib, informal, superficial, and, well, too pop. I’ve been reading quite a lot of scientific articles lately and am thrilled by how rewarding it’s been. Yes, they can be dense, intricate, and dry, and the genre sure has its very own idiosyncrasies (ticks), but they are also clear, painstakingly crafted, in-depth, documented, and supremely interesting: distilled thought of the highest import. So I’m not sure if a popular science magazine is right for me now—perhaps, (gulp), I’ve outgrown them (and after the absolute fiasco that became my former childhood choice, Conozca Mas, I’m wary).

I really do. This quick demo by Merlin Mann only whetted my appetite. Had I the money, I swear I’d buy an overpriced MacBook Pro just to get my hands on it^WP.

Isn’t it weird that Macs’ current killer app (for that’s certainly what Quicksilver has become) is a sort of meta-program (a launcher to control other programs)?