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Category: Tools and Technology

Collection Development Choices: the Example of JSTOR

Here I am at the reference desk for one of my Sunday shifts this term.* Sitting here, trying not to think about the tornado watch we’re under, or about cook-outs, or about holidays in general, I started thinking about JSTOR and what a perfect example it is of a whole cluster of things I’m sure my students rarely think about. Namely, the role that collection development choices make on the kinds of information to which they’ll have easy access.

JSTOR, like any other collection, was developed and continues to evolve based on choices people make about what to include and what to exclude. I’m not privy to the inner workings of JSTOR, but I don’t have to know those details in order to know that decisions must have been made to exclude some journals from the collection and to seek out other journals for inclusion. There’s no way around it.

Students, though, assume that it’s comprehensive. If anything, they may know that it doesn’t have much recent content, but they often figure that if JSTOR doesn’t have what they need they’re sunk because probably what they’re looking for doesn’t exist. I’ve seen this assumption loom it’s frustrating head in classes, at the reference desk, in my office, and now again in a set of focus groups we had done. Truth be told, it’s not just the students that think of JSTOR as The access point for scholarly articles in the library… we’ve heard the same assumptions bubbling up from some faculty.

But if you only search JSTOR, how might this affect your views of the scholarly discussion on a particular topic? A PoliSci professor on campus loves to point out that the journals in JSTOR for his discipline come, by and large, from one particular theoretical framework within the world of Political Science. I’d never thought about this until a couple of years ago (when I heard him say that for the first time), so I thought I’d take a closer look at the Language and Literature journals there. And sure enough, there are a couple of interesting trends in evidence.

First of all, there’s a distinct preference for journals published in the United Kingdom or the United States. I know other English-speaking countries publish high-quality, peer reviewed journals on language and literature, but vanishingly few show up in JSTOR.

Then there’s the question of dominant theoretical frameworks. Well, after admitting in the comments on my last post that distinguishing theories of reading is difficult, I’m sure you’ll forgive me if I pain in broad strokes here. That said… all the ways of reading a text (which I define very loosely, but which is easier to type than “mode of expression”) choose some method by which expression and meaning interact and dub it the most important or interesting site of meaning to explore. Some look to the text itself and exclude other contexts while others look to the reader’s interaction with the text or to the cultural context surrounding the text’s creation. JSTOR journals tend heavily toward the cultural-context option and exclude, almost entirely, the text-by-itself option. (Interestingly, the curriculum in the English department here has historically tended toward the text-by-itself option.) So if, as many undergraduates are, you’re looking for examples of ways that scholars have interpreted a given text, JSTOR will only give you a piece of that story because it seems to have chosen to develop its strength in contextually based criticism.

Of course, none of this is meant to imply that JSTOR is trying to pull one over on its subscribers, or that it’s not valuable, or anything like that. They can’t digitize everything, and they do have many of the absolute core journals in my disciplines. My point is just that students think it’s comprehensive, but it’s not. This is why we subscribe to more than just JSTOR. Each collection, physical or virtual, has it’s strengths and weaknesses, and remembering that this is true is a key part of becoming a savvy researcher.

* Life at this college only gives passing glances to holidays as it plunges headlong through 10-week terms. In the case of Memorial Day, this glance takes the form of an email message from the college president urging us to “take a moment” to honor those who died defending our nation, a vigil in the campus chapel, and probably sidewalk art. We enjoy sidewalk art here.

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Method as Content for Undergraduates

I wish it were possible for our bibliographic databases to index works according to the methodology or theoretical approach of the author. I know it’s not possible in many cases, but man oh man I wish it were. For a lot of undergraduates, finding examples of scholars employing a methodology or approach is high up there on the list of information needs, and it’s just not something that search can really help with.

So what do you do when a student comes and needs an example of a Marxist reading of The Wasteland or a post-structuralist reading of The Between? What about students who want to see examples of formal lab write-ups, or those formal research papers that actually use the prescribed headings Introduction… Methodology… etc? Part of the learning process is seeing accomplished researchers employing the forms that are taught in the undergraduate classroom, so for these students methodology and approach is a very real form of content to be sought, found, and analyzed.

Personally, I’ve developed some inefficient work-arounds for some of the questions I get most often. Try searching for research articles that have “study of” in the title… people likely to put “study of” in their research reports are also likely to use the traditional subheadings. And for the theoretical-approach question, I keep an anthology of the major literary theorists in my office and then do this complicated thing where I do a cited reference search in Web of Knowledge for an appropriate theorist, then I do a search for the topic or author or work we’re trying to interpret, and then I combine the two searches. Sometimes that works fabulously… sometimes it flops. But at least it’s something. (Of course, this doesn’t work very well at all if you’re trying to find an example of close reading… since close readers often only cite the work they’re reading, er, closely.)

‘Tis a puzzle. It’s one of those examples of a very common kind of research task (for my population, at least) that cannot be solved without quite a bit of prior disciplinary knowledge. Search, just by itself, will almost always fail.

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The More Things Change, The More They Stay the Same?

There’s been some interesting themes circulating in LibraryLand recently which have to do, I think, with the near-maturation of that collection of technologies we think of as Web 2.0 (or, at least, with the settling-in of the driving idea behind those technologies). There’s been a bit of a collective yawn in evidence when people prepare presentations or publications about “The top 10 new social tools online” or “the 100 2.0 tools every librarian should know” or anything along those lines. The time for laundry lists of new tools seems to have past. So what happens next? What do presenters and authors tell us now to continue our development as a profession?

Some have taken a step back and generalized the message to be something like “all of this is simply a byproduct of the need to implement innovative services… the tools don’t matter as long as you’re being innovative.” Or they may exhort us to “keep up with those young-uns or libraries will become irrelevant.” Maybe you’ve heard about the benefits of experimentation, or gotten deep into discussions about whether we should lead our communities to new technologies or follow them into the online spaces they already inhabit.

In my corner of LibraryLand, the question seems to be more along these lines: Does the existence of these tools, or of technology itself, fundamentally change humanities scholarship?

And of course, this question leads to a myriad of others. If technology does change humanities scholarship, what does this new scholarship look like? Is it fundamentally different or just different in its methods and appearance? If technology does not fundamentally change humanities scholarship, to what extent are humanities scholars and the librarians they work with obligated to know or care about Web 2.0? If a rose by any other name still smells sweet, does Scholarship (with a capital S) continue onward regardless of the tools that mark its methods?

I certainly don’t have answers for these questions, but as I think about them, I wanted to collect a couple examples of the places where I see this kind of discussion playing out.

  • There has been some discussion in the blog world specifically about humanities scholarship in the digital age. For example, Wayne Bivens-Tatum over at Academic Librarian has written his views on the topic. He sees the fundamentals of humanities scholarship as unchanged and unchanging, and laid out his reasoning in these two posts. Though I have some difficulties with his arguments,* they are excellent posts. Dan Cohen, on the other hand, about how humanities scholarship is shifting and will shift in the future.
  • Project Bamboo has embarked on a mission to enhance humanities scholarship by building a new suit of technological tools and by formalizing collaborations between scholars, information technologists, and libraries. Their proposal document presents a vision of the ways that these technologies and collaborations could aid in the exploration of current kinds of humanities research, but it also hints at the possibilities that new kinds of questions could be asked in the future. I’m not sure yet if these are fundamentally different kinds of questions, but I’m taken with the analogy on page 12 where they note that “for the humanist, the library is his or her laboratory.” Scientists can as questions that their methods and laboratories (formal or informal) allow them to answer. There are whole branches of science that were not possible 50 years ago because the equipment wasn’t there to support them. Will this analogy hold true for humanists? And if so, is this a fundamental change or simply new avenues built on the same foundations?
  • Conversations such as the ones that are going on now about the role of social spaces online in education. For now I’ll pick the Creepy Treehouse posts at ACRLog, See Also, and Reflections from a Small College Library. For budding humanists, will integrating research and online social interaction be as natural as breathing (or as discussing the politics of spacial representation with fellow scholars over drinks)? If not, if research would seem “creepy” in the context of online socialization, how might the assumptions about what’s askable, what’s knowable, and what’s reusable that grow out of such spaces influence these new scholars’ assumptions about their scholarship? If so, is this actually different from the kind of scholarship that happened before? I’m thinking of C. S. Lewis and his Inklings group, and of the departmental lounges in academic institutions, and of any number of times I’ve seen the scholars in my family argue points of interest.

What do you think? What counts as “fundamental” in scholarship (humanities or otherwise)? Do these fundamentals change in response to the tools available? If I can ask different questions now than I could before, could that mean the field has changed? If things don’t change fundamentally, what counts as significant change and how do all these questions play out?

*I think he’s confusing methods with fundamentals, myself, saying that some people are changing their fundamental practices when they use new tools and then arguing that humanities scholarship has not changed regardless of the fact that they do sometimes use new tools now.

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One of My Blogging Blindspots

People talk about blogs being conversation spaces in a large part because of their comment features. And I love the fact that people can comment on blogs. I get ridiculously excited when people comment on the posts I put up here (seriously, every single time it’s like I’ve never gotten a comment before). And I like the option to respond to other people’s thoughts (though I do this far too rarely). But I almost never think to check other people’s blogs to see if there’s a conversation unfolding in their comment threads. Except for a handful of times over the last three years, someone else has had to say something like “did you see that comment on so-and-so’s blog?” before I’ll remember to go check on these things. Personally, I think the fact that I read blogs through my RSS reader hinders my comment reading. I rarely click through to the posts themselves. But clearly other people are able to do it, and I know they’re using RSS readers, too.

I won’t say this is my biggest weakness as a blogger, but it’s right up there. So I’ve been watching with interest as other blogger–librarians undertake the 2008 Comment Challenge. And while I watch them work through this challenge, I’ll try to think about my own commenting and comment-watching practices. How important is it that I watch comments? Am I OK with my default mode of catching up with comments when somebody else reminds me to go look? If not, is there a way that I can remember to check comments on other people’s blogs that fits into my online lifestyle?

Those of you that have this thing figured out. How do you do it?

p.s. Goodness! I just realized I missed my blogaversary… over a month ago! This blog is now entering its third year.

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