three disconnected thoughts about books from this week

Our Faces and Sounds Got Lost in the Clouds
Closeup of the gorgeous 'Our Faces and Sounds Got Lost in the Clouds' by a favorite ethnographer moonlighting as a fabulist renderer.

A few thoughts on books from the last week. First, a colleague stopped me in the cafe to let me know about an Chronicle of Higher Education article on Google’s Book Search being a ‘disaster’ for academics because its data is often incorrect. Yikes. Second, this week one of my new colleagues, Jay Demerath, invited faculty to come into his office to pick out any books that he or she wanted. A generous and dangerous offer with a warning: “You all may be in the last generation to experience the problem of dealing with books upon your retirement.” The visit made me really contemplate teaching, careers, and my ever-growing library. He said that the grad students just didn’t know what classic books are anymore (undoubtedly a frequent lament). Despite the warning of an unwieldy library at the end of a career, I picked up Halle’s Inside Culture, Sacks’ massive Conversation Analysis lectures, and Jeffrey Alexander’s four volume set Theoretical Logic in Sociology, among other things. Third, friends and I descended upon the League of Women Voters Book Sale this morning as if I had not picked up enough books at Jay’s office. I nabbed a few goodies (Hodgeman’s More Information Than You Require, Schott’s Miscellany, Zadie Smith’s On Beauty, and Mannheim’s Ideology and Utopia), but was amazed at the piles of great books that book resellers had squirreled away in the corners of the High School cafeteria. Upon asking one of the volunteers, I was told that they pay a $10 fee to come in early and, essentially, scrape the cream off for themselves, searching prices on their iPhones and then taking their time to toss back the small fish. I had mixed feelings about it, but the ladies I spoke insisted that they make a ton of money off of these folks. There’s a thread in here somewhere… in lieu of a summary, a link to Benjamin’s essay on book collecting.

the ghost map, the 21 steps, and hand drawn maps

One of the other great things about the ASA is the book exhibit, which allows for all sorts of new ideas to bounce around in your head. I picked up Steven Johnson’s The Ghost Map, and inhaled it in two days. It is a near-perfect book for urban sociology. It has everything: a deadly disease (cholera) a tale of scientific inquiry triumphing over myth (social research over the ‘miasma’ hypothesis), compelling protagonist (the premiere London anesthesiologist who uses ‘shoe-leather’ and sociological research to solve the riddle, and a young priest who uses his neighborhood-level knowledge for crucial assistance), and maps!

It is the story of the 1853 cholera outbreak. Deaths were assumed to have something to do with bad air (‘miasma’), and that theory led to questions over elevation, leading researchers to believe that inner-city dwellers at once were to blame for the miserable conditions they were in, but also to explain how elites who lived in places like Hampstead were spared. (The result of the 19th Century outbreak was about 1000 London souls–in proportion, greater than the deaths from 9/11.) In truth, the communities at higher elevations:

tended to be less densely settled than the crowded streets around the Thames, and their distance from the river made them less likely to drink its contaminated water. Higher elevations were safer, but not because they were free from miasma. They were safer because they had cleaner water. (p. 102)

There are all sorts of lessons for students within. Examples include: the Durkheimian specialization of roles in cities (and particularly around the problem of waste/’night-soil’) (p. 1-5),  social prejudices of class and race affecting research (p. 133), local knowledge (inter alia, p. 146-7), the interviewer effect (p.155), urban planning gone askew (p. 120), how a bad theory can frame research questions (p. 165), city planning and infrastructure (inter alia, p 18), urban development as a mixture of collective action and individual choice (p. 91), urban traumas (p. 33), the power of local knowledge and autodidacts (p. 202 and 220), mistakes over correlation and causation (p. 101), the ramifications for global cities wherein over a billion squatters live today (p. 216), and the effects of powerful visual representations of social data (p. 193-97). It has given me a few more ideas to the festival project. (You can listen to the author talk about it here.)

In another retelling of London, Penguin Books is offering up a ‘We Tell Stories’ series, wherein authors are asked to tell a story using the first line of a classic, using new technology in some way. Charles Cummings wrote ‘The 21 Steps‘ (spinning off of James Buchan’s The 39 Steps), which is a fun romp. It is a detective story that uses Google Maps to help tell the tale. Here is the background of its creation.

And last, here is a link to ‘The Hand Drawn Map Association.’

the end of thumbing through books?

It could, quite possibly, be a terrible admission on my part, but yesterday I used Google Books to find two quotes in books that were sitting right next to me. Need to find what Richard Florida has to say about careers for that chapter on ‘cultural workers?’ No problem. Lecturing on Veblen and you aren’t quite sure where that line is about how women are the ‘chief ornament’ of the pecuniary class? You’ve got it. Even when the pages aren’t included in the limited preview, it seems that the search allows you to see the page if you request something specifically.  (And yes, Google Scholar includes Google Books in its searches.) It’s enough for me to have one of those dark moments wherein I realize that I could never be an academic if not for technologies like word processing (I keep an Underwood in my house to remind me of it), and mull further thoughts about how Google is secretly destroying all the information that it cannot index.

sociology as a ‘female preserve’

In theory class last week we discussed Harriet Martineau at some length. (She fits in perfectly after teaching Durkheim and before Veblen.) My students are intrigued by the ideal that Durkheim borrowed her ideas, since she was writing about similar epistemological and substantive topics and because the French version of her translation of Comte’s Positivist Sociology (even Comte preferred it over his own) could have been in his hot hands at Ecole Normale Superieure: she translated it in 1851 and he was at the school by 1879. Also, her How to Observe Morals and Manners was written in 1838, well before Emile’s Rules of Sociological Method (1895). I could not prove or disprove such suspicions, so if anyone knows of anything, feel free to let me know.

Relatedly, perhaps, there’s a provocative article that came out last month on the ‘feminization of sociology,’  (and I found an earlier one on the related ‘decline’ of the discipline). I’m not sure about the word choice here, but it is assuredly better than other forms of describing it (e.g., ‘female zoo,’ ‘female ghetto,’ ‘female asylum’).

art worlds, caught on tape

Artist Jill Miller trained herself as a licensed private investigator to then do undercover surveillance of the everyday lives of private art collectors. Odd, but true. I like how, in her description of the project, she “estimates she did surveillance on ten houses, focusing on five in depth.” Um, ‘estimates’ ten? I question her competency already. For something a little more scientific, check out Howie Becker’s Art Worlds. He has a smashing website as well, filled with many of his more interesting essays. I am fond of the ones on Calvino and Perec. Why wouldn’t I be pleased when a sociologist uses two of my top books of all time, Invisible Cities and Life, A User’s Manual? And he includes a link about my hometown of Buffalo. What more could a man want? I’ve been thinking a lot about Calvino’s book (check out the old cover, the nautilus shell and, are those mirrorballs?) in relation to my walking tour guide project since it circles around Marco Polo’s storytelling to Kublai Khan of all the cities he’s been to. In the book one starts to wonder whether or not all of these ‘cities with eyes,’ ‘continuous cities,’ ‘thin cities,’ aren’t all just Polo’s hometown of Venice told and retold again.

what i have not read

Slate had a nice set of blurbs about what ‘great books’ authors have not read. The Bible. Gravity’s Rainbow. Moby Dick. Harry Potter. Aside from the obvious question of whether or not a Harry Potter book is ‘great,’ I’m happy that I’ve covered those. (Ok, three-fourths of the Bible.) Faulkner. Ulysses. The Brothers Karamazov. I have just not gotten to and suspect I should. I’ve read more than the average American, I’m sure, but at times I need coercion: I had to bring Gravity’s Rainbow as my only reading material for a trip to Europe to force myself to get through it. The same with Quixote on this summer’s trip to Scandinavia. I was once with a famous sociologist and s/he asked what I was teaching in my theory class that day. I said, excitedly, “The Frankfurt School.” “Who’s that?” s/he asked. At the time I was appalled, but maybe I’ve mellowed out over the years, or realized that I have plenty of blindspots of my own.

One of those blind spots is the entire populist oeuvre of Jonathan Kozol. Maybe it’s because I missed a general education in my undergraduate studies while studying architecture (I took a year off between college and grad school, in part, to catch up on Hemingway, Kafka, Calvino, Ondaatje, and the like), but I never got around to Kozol, who must be assigned in every third undergraduate class. Regardless, Kozol gave a talk at Mt. Holyoke College to promote his new book. It was mostly pretty interesting, but he kept insisting that ‘sociologists’ were to blame for the mechanized, overly rationalized No Child Left Behind. Wa? He also complained about academics who use big words, like ‘hegemonic’ and ‘Hegelian.’ As one of my students told me afterwards, “He sure didn’t seem to have any qualms about ‘pedagogy!”‘ I’ve always thought that I’d like Kozol, and I admired his better instincts, but I was a little underwhelmed.

Other ‘classic’ social science books I need to read? Hmmm. I’m still hoping to get to Origin of the Species. (Interesting fact, maybe: Robert E. Park and Ernest Burgess’ An Introduction to the Science of Sociology–the ‘Green Bible’–includes some real interesting gems, including Darwin. We’ll be reading essays of Darwin’s on Blushing and Emotions from there our theory class this semester. It’s nice to think of the very foundation of our discipline in the U.S. is a little more interesting that we think.) Others?

(As a postscript, mention of Kozol’s concerns over language sparked a fabulous discussion about Durkheim, education, and stratification in theory class yesterday. Sharp thoughts that tapped into all sorts of issues of race and power.)

summer pool

Now that I no longer live in Williamsburg, I miss out on the McCarren Pool parties. It was one of those ideas that just was so brilliant it took off and became co-opted in the span of 30 seconds. Being at these shows was a blast the summer before last, and I’m sad to have missed Every Single One this summer. (The free ones are the brain-child of my good friends at Jelly NYC, FYI. It was their idea first, Live Nation!) I take small comfort from the fact that the Times has allowed one of my favorite blogger people, Andrew Kuo (in the blogroll on the right as ‘Emo + Beer = Busted Career‘), to provide his chart-review music events, most recently, on the Pool Parties (and here’s one of Cat Power). I’ve said it before, this guy’s a hipster Edward Tufte. Here’s a part of the chart (click here to see the rest):

summer pool graph

Just imagine if the AAUP delivered a similar chart for the news a few posts down. Suffice it to say, I’m going to begin to push my students to think about different kinds of presentations of data…