Jackson/Hypertext Reader Interaction Response

Perhaps the most metagrobolizing aspect of electronic literature exists in the new found (at least for me) world of hypertext. Although familiar with the idea of hyperlinks, clickable texts and images which when explored navigate the interactor away from their current page, the literary form of the hypertext novel is as foreign to me as Farsi. With this being understood, it follows that just like every other area of digital literature, from e-poetry to interactive fiction, I have been forced to open my mind to what is new and forget that which I have learnt from the old. Works of hypertext are like nothing else; they jump and flip and spin around in dizzying pathways until I find myself wondering where I am, what has happened and if there will ever be an end. The perplexing pursuit of possible plot and applicable truth seem oft to be in vain, never attainable. This in turn becomes a major turn off, for even though I try to approach everything I read, watch and listen to with an inquisitive mind, I find hypertext to utterly defeat both my understanding and my patience. Unlike e-poetry, which is somewhat simple once one understands the use of non-literary objects (such as pictures, sounds and music), works of hypertext carry with them a depth of such unfathomable volume that I can hardly keep my head above the water. While the challenge of such profundity is completely welcome, its presence, combined with the aspect of hypertext’s looping and jumping navigation, ends up losing me rather than hooking me in.

In particular, we have spent a considerable amount of time in and out of class on Shelley Jackson’s hypertext novel, “Patchwork Girl.” Primarily a mixture of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and L. Frank Baum’s The Patchwork Girl of Oz, Jackson’s work exists to be both a sequel and reimagining of the classic idea of a nonliving entity’s place in society.





In her envisioning of Shelley’s tale, Jackson picks up the torch where Dr. Victor Frankenstein left off. In the 1818 novel, the doc gave up on trying to create a suitable mate for his freakish creation. This task becomes the legacy of Jackson’s fictionalized character of Mary Shelley, who creates the Patchwork Girl from a variety of human body parts (unearthed from graveyards). She has success in sewing her creation together and then (rather strangely) falls in love with what her hands have made. It is a lesbian relationship to be sure, but given the fact that the Patchwork Girl is not an actual person (although the story asserts that she is just as human as anyone else) it could be observed that the fictionalized Mary Shelley is something of a necrophiliac. Given these remarks the question one is forced to ask is one of curiosity: “Why did Shelley Jackson characterize Mary Shelley (whom she credits with the creation of the work) as a necrophiliac-lesbian?” Although not easily answerable (one would have to be Jackson in order to know her exact intentions) it is surmised that she did so to support the feministic theme prevalent throughout the work. Unlike Dr. Frankenstein, who, completely repulsed by his monster seeks to run away and even kill what he has poured life into, the fictional Shelley stands as a testament to the nurturing care innately placed into many female hearts.

The sense of feminine instinct is not the only reoccurring theme within the novel. In addition to this there runs a strong string of eroticism throughout the work, evidenced by the way in which the characters view their own feelings, sexuality and identity. The Patchwork Girl is often confronted with the issues she has with her countenance. (see below)



She identifies herself as quite unattractive, given the fact that she is covered in scars and exists as a mish-mash of other people’s reanimated body parts. Her hands are large and cumbersome, leaving her unable to even work the needle and thread needed to put herself back together again. For these reasons she is all mixed up about who or what she is and how she should live within her newfound environment. Besides the written description the readers receive about her, the Patchwork Girl’s image is depicted in the opening screen of the program. (see below) The reader has a choice to either use the outline grid as their means of navigating the work or the picture of the Patchwork Girl. Invariably the reader will choose the image over the framework, and the resulting click will bring one to the ambiguous title screen of the work. Before discussing that in any great detail however, it is important to note the significance of the picture not only as a picture but also a device by which one has full access to not only the story contained within the program, but in fact the entirety of the Patchwork Girl’s body. While this may seem somewhat perverse, it must be understood that this is a vital component of Jackson’s writing. She is not content (nor does she expect her reader to be) with merely navigating her work by means of a textual schematic but instead opts to include a more sensual experience by exposing the reader to a concept of what the Patchwork Girl looks like. By utilizing her body as the program map (pictured below), the character of Patchwork Girl becomes more notably ingrained with a physical presence, rather than a mere representation of words.





Pictured below are the various illustrations of Patchwork Girl’s navigational map image. Note how each one differs slightly but brings with it vast amounts of relevance to the written work and hypertext experience.



In the first portion, “a graveyard” the image (shown above) contains several significant markers. Firstly, it has in the lower left-hand corner the Roman numeral “I.” To the observant reader this indicates that the graveyard is where the story begins. This is justified by the fact that the Patchwork Girl does in fact have her origins in the body parts found in the graveyard. Furthermore, each patch of her being is disconnected, which point towards the idea that she has not yet been put together but is in fact, “in the making.”



The next available path is found by clicking on the “journal” section. (shown above) This brings the reader to another image of the creature’s body, this time connected in such a way that one can infer an action of movement on the part of the Patchwork Girl. This is seen in the way that the head (where her thoughts and mind reside) is attached to the leg. This denotes her travels and in fact her story as a whole, as her feet are the way in which she traverses and explores her world. In addition to this, the journal portion of the work reveals the body of the work, as is shown by the hand in the stomach, a picture of the substance of the story.



Third is the quilt portion (see above) of the work, which contains all the pieces, but not in order. This is much like a real quilt, with overlapping portions of fabric waiting to be united. Also, although a component of each picture, the thread that runs from the bottom left corner to the top right corner is somewhat more noticeable in the quilt section than in others.



Finally is the “story” portion of the work (shown above), the picture of which is almost identical to the journal, the only difference in that it seems to be a negative exposure. This serves to highlight the fact that the story brings to light that which the other parts of the work leave in darkness.

There is also the “broken accents” link which brings the viewer to an altogether different image of the Patchwork Girl’s head. (see below)

However, it is not only the head but the inner workings of her mind that are revealed to the reader in this section. Much like the magnets one finds on a refrigerator, which when placed in a certain order spell out a message, the jumbled thoughts and identities are broken up and jumbled in the Patchwork Girl’s head. A close reading of the dialogue accessed when clicking many of the brain portions (see below) reveals that it is the author of the hypertext whose head the reader is viewing in the broken accents section.



In conclusion, Shelley Jackson’s Patchwork Girl exists as exactly what its title denotes: It is a scary conglomeration of fiction, quotes and biography set to hypertext (patchwork) with a feminist undertone. Although it has broadened my horizons as to the potential of hypertext literature, the appeal of electronic literature I find is hopelessly lost on me. As hard as I have tried to accept and understand works such as e-poetry, interactive fiction and hypertext, I simply revert to the idea that the written word is supreme. Perhaps this is because of it simplistic linearity, which is much easier to follow than the twisty paths of many electronic works. In any case, Patchwork Girl stands to me as a reminder of why books will always carry with them much more prevalent enjoyment than those works of a digital nature.

Inform 7 Software/Writer Interaction Response

In my Interactive Fiction piece, “Tom’s Tale” I sought to capture the game-like essence so essential to many works of IF. Although not incredibly long or even in-depth, the methods at work within my IF are purposed to not only fulfill the requirements of the assignment (three rooms, three things, one piece of scenery, and at least two non-playable characters or NPCs) but to also to help myself get a feel for the writing process in regards to works of Interactive Fiction. Although it could stand to be both added too and then edited, “Tom’s Tale” is a perfect example of a first-timers attempt at writing IF. (see screen shots below)





The plot line of my piece is not too complicated and follows the semi-traditional prologue of much IF in that the player finds themselves at the beginning of the story waking up in a foreign environment, clueless as to how they got there or what they must do. Little else is known about the protagonist as they are a genderless, featureless character whose shell the player must inhabit until the end of the gameplay. (see below)



The only feature known to the player during the game is that you are hungry. As this is not in and of itself a character trait (although I’m sure many great literary scholars could infer that the character’s hunger is a symbolic representation of humanity’s voracious appetite for sexual experience, or something ridiculous like that) the player is forced to pour into the protagonist their own desires and attributes by what they choose to input. This though is severely limited by the amount of commands available to the player throughout the story, a hindrance resulting from my own inability to comprehend the vastness of Inform 7 programming (and trust me, it’s not the only thing I couldn’t wrap my head around).

Continuing on from the prologue, the player surveys their surrounding and discovers that they are in a cave, the mysterious atmosphere of which is completed by a strange old man cooking various items over a fire (which in a cave is a terrible idea…imagine the smoke!). His companion is none other than an impish little gnome, whose peculiar dance and stand-offish attitude grant him a bizarre appeal to the interactor. These two constitute the NPCs of the story, yet they are not truly what they seem to be because I could not ultimately figure out how to manipulate the software so as to allow the player to talk to them. Instead, they are no better than common objects with dialogue in the description, accessed only by using the “examine” command. (see below)



It was this aspect which was perhaps one of the most frustrating aspects of utilizing Inform 7, as I could not figure out how to actually tinker with the input commands. This therefore renders the player only a few options when it comes to inputting his or her commands, allowing my inadequacies to become their frustrations.
Two rooms are accessible from the cave, a closet to the west and a bathroom to the east. In the closet there is a pile of fish bones (the piece of scenery). As for the bathroom, I wished not to describe the entire room itself, but only to place it into existence. For this reason, when reached the message is that the door is shut and the room is occupied. Due to its relative ease (in relation to other aspects of using Inform 7) creating rooms within the program was quite enjoyable and appealed to me for its ability to create an atmosphere often lost in much of IF. As much time is spent by the player merely trying to figure out the whys and hows of a work as they meticulously explore each of the input options, the descriptions found upon entering a room is a refreshing break from the otherwise monotonous nature present in Interactive Fiction. Furthermore, the description of rooms helps to reinforce the novel or story aspect of IF, a crucial piece found oftentimes in severe state of want.

Finally, included in my work are three interactive objects, which the player must utilize to reach the end of the narrative. They are (and yes the latter two are completely made up, Dr.Seuss-esque words): a fish, a fosh and a f00sh. Faced with three choices, the interactor must decide which of the creatures they will eat. The fish is a neutral choice, neither causing failure nor success. The fosh however is the player’s ticket to winning the game, for when one chooses to eat it they receive a congratulatory message stating that they have won the game. If though they choose the f00sh they begin to vomit incessantly, thereby losing the game. Of course, just like the rest of the work, both the congratulatory and failure messages are nothing more or less than a farce designed to give the player a sense of completion (or in the very least, finality). (see below)



Given the fact that I could not figure out how to program an actual end of game message, I decided to use the response message of eating one of the items as a means to finish the game. After all, what’s more infuriating than not being able to finish something one has started? Although the game is very much still playable after eating either the fosh or the f00sh, the fact that they convey a sense of conclusiveness in their responses is proof enough that the game has a not only a definite beginning, but also a definite end.

It is in these and other ways that I wished to communicate my opinion of the ludicrousness of Interactive Fiction throughout “Tom’s Tale.” Although I struggled through many of the processes associated with the writing of IF (namely the creation of NPCs and manipulation of input commands), I found the Inform 7 program allowed me to accomplish what I set out to do – try my hand at writing IF. While I still hold strongly to the belief that IF is a sad excuse for enjoyable literature, working with the Inform 7 software has increased my appreciation for those who write works of IF for the mere pleasure it gives them. However, this sense of appreciation is matched with my uncertainty of the saneness of such individuals, as it is my conclusion that one must be either a person of intense patience, clinically insane, or just extremely bored to derive any sense of enjoyment of accomplishment from working on IF. It is however not for me to judge, as my interactions and standpoint on IF as a whole (both reading and writing) fall in the area of extreme prejudice. But I reside happily in such, knowing that the written novel will never fail to entertain, educate and envelope me in its acute storytelling abilities.

IF Reader Interaction Response

Throughout this semester’s study of electronic literature I have time and time again been brought to a place where I must open my mind to new and sometimes (more often than not) frustrating fashions of literature. Although I consider myself a very open-minded person to begin with, as my previous responses have shown I have found it incredibly difficult to derive any sense of pleasure or enjoyment from the e-poetry we have studied thus far. Not surprisingly the same sentiment is shared in regards to my dealings with our newest venture in digital literature: Interactive Fiction (“IF” for short). Albeit an interesting concept when first speculated upon, IF has presently come to be in my opinion a gross hybrid of the novel and video gaming which instead of being thought provoking or even slightly entertaining is in fact a waste of time and energy on the part of the interactor.

Characteristic of most IF is the idea that the interactor is the one writing the story so to speak. This view is observed by the way in which the reader of IF types in commands to progress throughout the story. This however is the very fallacy of the idea in that the story or plot of the piece has already been predetermined by the author. Even though it may seem like the reader has control over which decisions are made throughout the story, any direction has already been pre thought and manufactured by the writer, therefore making the sense of control one has a mere illusion. Furthermore, the fact that all possible commands one can input into a work are already in preexistence and cannot be manipulated to do other than that which has already been programmed. For example, if one wishes to jump and therefore types “jump” into the input bar, yet the program does not recognize the verb “jump” it is as if one has been transported to a world where jumping does not exist. This is a great hindrance to all works of IF in that not everything about them is interactive.

In this way, works of Interactive Fiction fall into a paradigm of duality; they are neither novel nor game, yet claim to house attributes associated with both the written word and cyber gaming. This in turn becomes yet another way in which pieces of IF lose their popularity and appeal. Who really wants to read a story where instead of merely turning pages and allowing the imagination to fill in the blanks, one has to actively type and quite possibly read the same set of dialogue three or four times (even more in most cases) in order to progress throughout the plot? And on the opposite side of the field, what gamer would in their right mind wish to play something where they do not have some representation of the story (other than sheer words)? Although rhetorical in nature, these questions are asked in order to provoke the natural response of: “No one would wish to partake in these activities!”

Apart from (and in addition to) this undefined nature IF, it is also extremely exasperating to understand much of the plots in IF as they do not on most occasions flow in a cohesive manner but are generated somewhat randomly. One example of this haphazard characteristic exists in the creation of the Brother’s Chaps (the duo of Mike and Matt Chapman) “Thy Dungeonman.” Listed under the games section of their website: http://www.homestarrunner.com/, this particular work of IF serves as an extension of their vast flash animation website. It also works as an excellent example of just how ridiculous works of Interactive Fiction can be. This accomplished by its satirical wit interjected throughout the programming of the story.

In the title screen of the game, there is a text-graphic (an image comprised of text) and a message reading “Click to enter Yon Dungeon.” (See below)





After clicking, the viewer is welcomed by a message indicating that obvious directions of travel are either “NORTH, SOUTH or DENNIS.” This is just one example of the tongue-in-cheek nature present throughout the work as it is absolute silliness to suggest that Dennis (who happens to be a person)is a navigable direction.







However, this is not the only use of humor within the story as is evident by the repetitive (and sometimes inappropriate) use of Old English words such as “Ye”, “Yon” and “Thee.” (See screenshots) Uses of such words do support the setting of the story (that the interactor is a medieval person trapped in a dungeon) yet also add an element of humor to the work.
Progressing throughout the work (which consists of only four “rooms” or environments of interactivity) the authors take full advantage of the fact that the actions inputted by the interactor are totally and completely under their control. When a command is given that is not recognized by the program there displays a message reading as such: “That does not computeth: type HELP is thou needs of it.” (see below) Although poorly written (the “is” should be an “if”) the message continues in the vain of sarcastic wit as it models on the common phrase found in IF of “Sorry, I didn’t recognize that verb.” In this way the Brother’s Chaps seek to jab at IF and its oftentimes enraging inability to recognize common commands such as jump, smell or grab. This subtle prod at the regularly employed mechanics of IF continues all through the work, as is seen when the interactor types the command “dance.” Instead of disallowing this action, the programmers yet again interject their love of nonsensical humor by having the output display the message: “Thou shaketh it a little, and it feeleth alright.”



Another way “Thy Dungeonman” brings to light the sheer ludicrousness of Interactive Fiction is found within the first room, where there is a flask. After trying to “get ye flask” the response informs one that it is “firmly bolted to a wall which is bolted to the dungeon which is probably bolted to a castle. Never you mind.”(see below)



Furthermore, if the reader attempts repeatedly to acquire the flask, on the third go round it comes off the wall, but also brings the rest of the building down on top of the protagonist, thereby ending the game. (see below)



This is of course a reference to the frustrating aspect of IF in which the interactor may try all options and even type the same command in multiple times in a fruitless effort to solve a puzzle. Of course, given their flair for the preposterous, the writers of the story have programmed the flask (and its acquirement) to be a booby trap, leaving the interactor all the more frustrated for attempting to achieve their goal.



And this is perhaps where the greatest defining factor of Interactive Fiction (and electronic literature as a whole) is found. Whereas the other forms which IF claims to hold in common with (that of the novel and the video game) often have a concrete plot, intriguing ideas and a moderate to great amount of entertainment potential, IF more often than not fails in these departments and in so doing generates an experience which is neither enlightening, imaginative or enjoyable. The Brother’s Chap’s “Thy Dungeonman” provides an accurate summary as to what IF is in that it seeks to poke fun at most (if not all) of the tenants of the interactive genre. Although the appeal may be held by some individuals on the basis that it is a work in progress and needs time to be perfected, I stand convinced that it will never replace the written word. IF is in many cases difficult to navigate, frustrating to figure out and hard to enjoy. Given these facts it is obvious that IF will not advance but will instead either remain as it is (with slight modifications) or fade away into the sea of trends, useful only to those individuals wishing to express themselves in an unintelligible and unentertaining manner.

PowerPoint Software/Writer Response "Summer Winter"

In my e-poem, “Summer Winter” (shown below) I experimented with Power-Point and software in attempts to create a work that was both easy to follow and somewhat layered in meaning. While forming my poem, I sought to utilize the animation features of Power-Point in order to add an element of symbiociation so often found within other works of electronic literature. Though not a masterpiece when compared to other works I have been introduced to over the course of the semester, “Summer Winter” does convey my feelings towards the two respective seasons in a succinct yet dynamic manner.

Basically, the intention I had when writing “Summer Winter” was to convey to the reader (or in this case, the viewer) my attitude towards the summer and winter seasons. I am inclined toward the warmer of the two, as is clearly seen by the lines of my poem, where all aspects of summer are cast in a positive view and my own personal longing for summer days is felt. Conversely, my opinions on winter as a bleak and un-enjoyable time are duly noted in the way that the winter half of the poem is construed as one of negativity. Both stanzas have a somewhat mirroring effect which serves to juxtapose the ideas contained within the lines. Take for example the second line from the summer stanza: “The feel of a Frisbee within my grasp” and the winter counterpart: “A snowball smacks me upside the head.” In the summer lines, a sense of pleasure is found in the catching of the Frisbee. In the winter lines however, the reader can most likely empathize with the unpleasant feeling of having a snowball chucked at one’s head. This is exactly the contrast I wished to show throughout the entirety of the e-poem.

Another way I attempted to employ the animation effect of the Power-Point software so as to convey the central idea of the poem was the way I chose to animate the texts of both stanzas. In the summer lines, I wished to encapsulate the fleeting presence of summer which so often comes and goes without give one enough time to enjoy its company. So, just like the symbolic sound of the ice cream man’s van in summertime, which fades in and out of existence quicker than one can ask mom for some loose change, I chose to have the lines of the summer stanza fade in and out in an easy, relaxed manner (see above). For this reason, on all the summer lines, I modified them to exhibit a “compress” entrance and a “stretchy” exit. In a like manner and in keeping with the contrasting nature of the poem, I wanted the lines of the winter stanza to embody the lingering nature the winter seasons seem to have. Just as the cold, dreary days of winter seem to drag on and on and on one after the other, without an end in sight, the words of the winter stanza take an unnecessary amount of time to drop from the sky and then drop off the face of the poem. To accomplish this effect I selected the “swish” effect for all the winter lines, causing them to take a much longer time to appear in their entirety. My hope for this was to awaken a sense of frustration in the viewer; a frustration akin to the one I feel when dealing with the cruelty of winter. In this way, I was able to manipulate the animation properties of the Power-Point software so as to create an atmosphere of love and hate within my e-poem towards the seasons of summer and winter.

Throughout my interaction with the Power-Point software (which I have only used previously for presentations) I found the animation options easy to find and use. They added a depth to my poem that would not have been present were it written on paper. Being able to use pictures was also a meaningful aspect to my e-poem as it allowed a visual presentation of the contrast I sought to display throughout the work. The picture I chose to incorporate into the summer part of the poem included two of my friends playing Ultimate Frisbee, one of the most memorable and enjoyable activities I participate in during summer. For the winter half of the poem, I selected a picture of my friend sitting alone in the snow. This was to further demonstrate the lonely and melancholy feeling winter so often drags along with it. I quite liked being able to employ pictures so as to drive home the main ideals of the poem. Furthermore, I found Power-Point a very easy program to use when it came to animating the text and inserting pictures.

Using Power-Point to construct my poem was not all joy and laughter though. I found it quite tedious to have to keep clicking the preview button so as to survey what I had done so far and what needed correction. This was especially irritating when it came time to deal with objects at the end of the poem because I would have to watch the preceding fifty-or-so seconds before getting to the part I wished to inspect. A fast forward or rewind tool would have been most helpful for the editing process of the e-poem. Also, I can’t help thinking that it would have been easier to develop the poem over a series of slides but as I could not figure out how to get the slides to play in succession I opted to construct the entire work on a single slide. Although this was a somewhat irksome task, the final product proves that it is not impossible and in fact quite rewarding to create e-poetry. Besides the constant clicking and mind-numbing repetition I sometimes experienced during the construction of my e-poem I ultimately enjoyed thinking about, modifying, and finishing “Summer Winter.”

E-Poetry Reader Interaction Response

As I delve deeper into the world of digital literature (specifically that of e-poetry) I find more and more that although I try to leave my concepts of what literature is (or what it should be) at the door, I become more entrenched and abject to the realm of electronic literature. Although I do recognize the artistic value and individual meaning attached to works of e-poetry, I am nonetheless disinterested in its advances and propagations. For the most part this is due to the fact that I often do not understand or am confounded by the often confusing combustion of elements within many works of e-poetry. However, it should be observed that although I may have my own issues with the way in which e-poetry presents the ideas of those who choose its medium, it does not mean that I believe it to hold no value as a form of interpretation of said ideas of individuals.

For example, in the e-poem “The Mermaid” (a digital reworking of William Butler Yeats’ poem of the same name) Alis Yung transmogrifies the work of Yeats into an altogether different product. Upon clicking the plain hyperlink in a gray environment (shown below), simply titled “Mermaid” the viewer is introduced to a small window (resembling a pop-up) in which the first line of the poem “A mermaid found a swimming lad” set behind floating blocks of what look to be tiny white letters. All of this takes place in a dark magenta box where a sense of complacent passion lingers. It is not until the viewer actually begins to mouse their cursor that something begins to happen to the illegible blocks of words. As the mouse passes across the screen and alights on the blurbs they begin to perform a variety of motions. In a dizzying rapidity the lines are suddenly magnified and sometimes flipped upside-down or backwards, always with a fluttering effect like that of a pounding heart (see below).

Because of these elements it is somewhat close to impossible to make sense of the crazy words, which are in actual fact the rest of Yeats’ six-line poem. Overall, the end product Yung’s interpretation of “The Mermaid” is a head-ache from trying to decipher the elusive lines and a feeling of irritation that something is either wrong with one’s mouse or browser.

Although this is the case when viewing much of digital literature (meaning that much of what one finds in e-poetry is nothing more than the unintelligible jabber of sights sounds and hyperlinks) one must not be content with the idea that a sense of nausea and annoyance is the author’s original goal. In producing the work, Yung puts forth a few interesting ideas about Yeats’ poem. It is clearly noticed that “The Mermaid” is very much a poem about love, or more accurately, passion. Yung demonstrates this in the color of the background, a dull magenta possibly indicating the lingering ardor of a lost love. Furthermore, the intangible lines of the e-poem plant the idea that love is an ultimately unattainable object which constantly slips through the fingers of those pursuing it. In the work, a mermaid finds a “lad” (probably in all speculation a ruggedly fit and handsome young man) and forcefully abducts him as her lover to the bottom of the sea where he meets his cruel end. The very poem exercises this view of “cruel” love while Yung’s flickering words serve to torture the viewer as they attempt to ascertain the body of the work. Even when one is capable of pinning down the trembling for a moment, they quickly fade back into the gloom of the window. This paints a picture of the pounding hearts of love (shared by the enamored mermaid and the frightened lad) hurriedly hammering before settling back into the mists of the sea. Moreover, the remorseless attitude of the mermaid (as it is never told whether or not she laments her lost lover) is adequately captured in the way that the e-poem’s ruthlessness leaves a bitter taste in the viewers mind. It is in this way that the aspects of Yeats’ poem are captured and expounded upon by the artful renderings of Yung’s “Mermaid. However sore Yung’s use of wavering makes the viewer’s eyes; her interpretation serves to reinforce ideas and elements contained within the poem.

In keeping with the Yeats/Yung idea of love (and in a sense life) plummeting into a watery abyss, another example of the symbiociation contained in electronic literature is found in Ingrid Ankerson’s e-poem “Sinking.” Oddly enough Ankerson’s poem shares more than just a common theme with Yung’s “Mermaid” in that the launch screen is identical to that of “The Mermaid.” However, unlike the dull gray of Yung’s work, the launch screen of “Sinking” (shown right) is colored a deep blue, symbolizing the altogether watery nature of the work itself. Upon clicking the hyperlink a small pop-up like box (similar to that of “Mermaid”) appears and begins to play. In this work clicking on the link is the extent of a viewer’s interaction with the poem. It does not contain the shaky letters of Yung’s product or the multiple paths of other electronic works but instead runs much like a movie clip: All one has to do is press play. This however does not alleviate by any measure the relative ease (or difficulty) one has in reading the lines of the poem. Indeed, one has to pay close attention to the words of the poem as they do not share a common existence but rather inconsistently fade in and out of being as the poem progresses. Though for the most part easy to watch, it does take the viewer more than one play-through to fully appreciate the poem as a whole. Furthermore, like many works of digital poetry, “Sinking” incorporates music a vital element in its composition. From when the words start appearing across the screen till about a minute after they end, one’s ears are enveloped by a rhythmic ambience reminiscent of calm waters and mystical lochs. This noise (for it cannot rightly be called music) adds a tone of melancholy regret to the work as a whole and thereby serves to underscore the dark nature the end of the poem reveals.

In addition to the quickly fading lines and attitude of sadness as captured by the ambient noise, the e-poem also integrates a self-scrolling pan feature which lies in the background: an oil-painting like seascape which stretches to each border of the browser window. As the work plays, a spectrum is revealed; the background starts off bright and fresh yet slowly grows darker and darker until a blue so deep it appears black ends the work. This adds yet another layer of meaning to the words of the poem. For just as the mournful ambient noise casts a dull view of the work as a whole, the slow fade to black seen in the poem’s background serves to highlight the stages in which the speaker of the poem writes. The poem begins with the speaker recollecting how she learnt to swim as a child and ends with her comparing her inability to thrive in life with her inability to swim in water. For this reason, the background of the poem begins with the bright, almost whiteness of new life as is seen by the blank bar atop the screen before the actual background begins (see below).

This white bar, which only exists at the beginning and end of the work is a picture of the author’s view on the span of time before and after life in that before life begins (i.e. the life here being the poem) nothing is known, one is pure and nonexistent. With the white bar also following at the end of the work (when it appears that the speaker kills herself by cutting her wrists) the author’s outlook on the afterlife are plainly evident in that she believes that even though life continues (the ambient noise carries on even after the poem’s end) the individual herself is removed to the same state she was before her life began (that is, one of innocence and purity). Due to these aspects of the e-poem, one gains a greater understanding of what Ankerson is trying to conceptualize. Were it written down on paper, “Sinking” would carry just as strong a message about the futility of merely getting by (as opposed to thriving). However, it would lose a vast amount of meaning in that the reader would surely not be able to grasp the author’s views of pre-life and death by printed words but would instead focus on the structure of the words themselves.

And this is perhaps the only area in which digital literature holds any weight as a meaningful or useful tool of artistic expression. Having to trudge through the often cumbersome and galling elements found in e-poetry can somewhat mask the underlying ideas and motives constructed by its authors. But that is what literature is all about. That is what art is all about. One must be willing set aside their preformed constructs of what art is and analyze a subject (be it an e-poem, a painting or an interpretive dance) on an individualized case-to-case basis. I admit that this is largely my failing when it comes to e-poetry, as I find myself so bored and apathetic to the works themselves that I cease to try and understand them for what they are; what they were created to be. For this reason it is important to understand that although something seems foreign and unintelligible to one, it must not be utterly dismissed as garbage or a waste of time. Instead it must be critically analyzed with the hope that such analysis will bring about not only a better understanding of the subject but also a better appreciation.

First Blog Post

My initial response to e-poetry based on the pieces assigned so far is easily summed up in a single yet poignant word: distaste. This may seem like a harsh word to use when describing any form of art, but I personally believe it to be the most fitting description of my thoughts towards e-poetry. Over the course of my entire life, I have enjoyed reading all sorts of poetry by various authors. Whether it be the medieval revelry of Chaucer, the melancholy sadness of Sylvia Plath, or the cleverly interwoven nationalism of Robert Burns, I have read and enjoyed much poetry.
However, I am what one might call old-fashioned. To use the example of art as it is represented in visual media (paintings, sculptures, etc...) what is today referred to as "modern" art does not impress me and in fact suggests to me a certain inability for such "artists" to in actual fact create something of artistic value. In the same way, I find that e-poetry is the attempt of individuals to modernize what is better left to pen and paper.
The pieces which have been assigned so far are not bad poems in and of themselves; I just find myself unable to enjoy or understand them as I would were they written on paper. Perhaps this will not always be the case. Perhaps I may one day grow to enjoy electronic literature. As for now, I am of the opinion that it is a waste of time and energy, both on the part of the writer and the reader.