Marcus' World

Good Reading on the Way to San Francisco

Yesterday we flew to San Francisco, on a marvelously pleasant and uneventful Jet Blue flight. (This week Delta reimbursed us for the unexpected cab fare we paid because of the debacle last time.) I have an interview tomorrow, and our goal this weekend is to sign a lease on an apartment in Berkeley.

On a flight that's longer than six hours, there is plenty of time to read.  So I gulped down Paul Berman's entire monograph-length expose of Tariq Ramadan, which appears in the June 4 issue of The New Republic.  It took me 2 1/2 hours to read it.

Ramadan is a Muslim intellectual widely revered in the West for attempting to blend Islam and modern Western democracy. Berman sees much darker undercurrents to Ramadan's thinking, with roots that ultimately amount to a desire to impose Islam on the entire world through terror.  He skillfully ridicules Ramadan's sympathizers (such as Ian Buruma and Timothy Garton Ash), in a lament for what he terms the "reactionary turn" of Western intellectuals.  We have been cowed into credulity and submission by Islamist terrorists, and Berman will not take that lying down.

The above is perhaps the most inadequate summary of Berman's piece that you could possibly read. Set aside an afternoon and read it yourself; it will be remembered as one of the most important American intellectual contributions of 2007.  The New Republic is still essential, after all these years.

What For?

A heart-stopping image of grief hit the front page of the Times this Memorial Day and coursed around the world.  Mary McHugh is weeping face down at Arlington National Cemetery, before the grave of her fallen fiancee, Sgt. James J. Regan.

As the carnage continues, I ask, "What for?"

Winding Down Our New York Days

By now the clock is ticking on our remaining time in New York City--we have less than two months left, because the cross-country trek starts on July 24.  We'll be in Ibadan, Nigeria for two weeks between now and then, providing HINARI training as part of the Elsevier-Medical Library Association grant. One of the best parts of last week's MLA conference for me was participating in a packed-house open forum about the work of the Librarians without Borders task force. Our work will end next year, but if the task force is effective the ideas and energy surrounding international librarianship will live on.

Next weekend we'll be in California again (although we'll return in time for Helen's musicale on Sunday afternoon.)  Coupled with the Nigeria trip, our time in New York is dwindling even more rapidly than it otherwise would.  This weekend we actually were at home. We did something we've never done but always meant to (a recurring theme these days) and returned to our favorite restaurant in New York City for one more meal.

Yesterday was the time for something new--a visit to Yankee Stadium, where the Bronx Bombers played a lackluster game and lost to the Los Angeles Angels.  Helen and I halfheartedly rooted for the Yanks, because the main point was just to be there.  Our bleacher seats were right underneath the blazing sun, but the bleachers have the best fans.  A man in front of us kept the score very diligently, and several people sported Derek Jeter jerseys.  My only complaint: a bottle of 24 oz. water cost $4.50. And now I know we've been in New York too long, because the $4.75 tab for a jumbo hot dog (which we resisted) seemed reasonable.

Tonight we ventured back to the gracious and intimate restaurant Blue Hill (the subject of one of my early blog postings.) On our first visit we both indulged and ordered the tasting menu.  Tonight we were content to share an appetizer and dessert, and to order our own entrees.  But we enjoyed soup from a shot glass (tonight it was green gazpacho) both times.  Some things never change, even as people do. During that first Blue Hill meal I assumed we'd be in New York forever; tonight I looked back wistfully on a chapter of our lives that will probably not be repeated.

What's Next for Biomedical Digital Libraries?

The Medical Library Association's 2007 meeting concluded today.  For good overviews of the week's events, check out the National Program Committee or Krafty MLA 2007 blogs.

One of my chief goals for the conference was to figure out how to rescue Biomedical Digital Libraries, the open access journal I have edited for more than a year (after serving as an Associate Editor for 3 years).  We are published by BioMed Central (BMC), which currently has an author payment structure that makes publication in BDL impossible for most librarians.  In almost all cases library research is conducted on a shoestring, and publication funds are not easy to come by.

We have published many articles that are not written by librarians, which demonstrates the elasticity of the concept of "digital libraries." But librarians have contributed the majority of articles and done all the peer-reviewing. If the journal becomes inaccessible to this core group, then there's no point in maintaining it.

I left for MLA rather despondent about this state of affairs. However, a great meeting on Monday with some of the editorial board members gave me new hope. Then, yesterday Sarah McCord and I  approached the BioMed Central booth with a proposal to waive or severely reduce the author fees for BDL, as a token of appreciation for the library community's strong support of the open access publishing movement for several years. This would force BMC to take a loss on our journal, which would have to be recovered from their other titles. The incentive for BMC to do such a silly thing would be to boost their goodwill in the librarian community, which is conspicuously lacking now that they've raised their fees substantially.

So it might be worth it to them, all things considered. The BMC reps promised to make a good case on our behalf to senior executives.

I certainly hope our strategy works, but--of course--it might fail. Negotiations will continue,  in that case. Although there are other publishing options, I want to make this work since we already have four years of history with BMC. Plus, with the current arrangement we're automatically indexed in PubMed and archived in PubMed Central. And our open peer review policy--in which reviewers and authors  are disclosed to each other, and the reviews are published online as brief scholarly communications--is something to be proud of and to hold on to.

Time will tell what happens with BDL. In the meantime, my immediate lessons (once again) were of the benefits of having a group come together to solve a problem, and (ahem, Marcus) of the importance of having the courage to ask awkward questions.  Sarah magnificently made our case to the BMC reps from the outset of the conversation, whereas I hemmed and hawed until I finally got comfortable enough to say why we were really at their booth.  It takes all kinds to make this world go round, and I'm glad that outstanding people are part of Biomedical Digital Libraries.   

I Used to Belong to the Moral Majority

Jerry Falwell's death yesterday caused me to reflect on my childhood years attending a conservative Christian church, which culminated in active involvement with the organization Campus Crusade for Christ during my early years at Northwestern.  I never actually belonged to Falwell's "Moral Majority," which was prominent in the 1980's. But many of my other influences had strong resonances with Falwell's organization.

Since his death I've heard phrases that seem strange to my ear today but were once commonplace, such as, "disciples for Christ," and "unabashed love for the Lord." In certain precincts of Manhattan, such talk is clear evidence of imbecility.  But for much of this country--for many of the people I grew up with and like--it is the poetry of Sunday morning.

So I am conflicted in the wake of Falwell's death. I will not certainly miss his demonization of homosexuals; even in death, it's hard to forgive his attempt to pin the September 11 attacks on people like my brother Jeremy.  On the other hand, Jerry Falwell was a hero and spokesman for millions of Americans who live somewhere between Manhattan and Berkeley. It's both inaccurate and sanctimonious to refuse to understand his legacy.

More on Google Book Search

Jonathan Band will be a featured speaker at the Legislative Update for MLA '07 in Philadelphia. Mr. Band is an attorney who regularly works with library associations. He is one of the most articulate defenders of the position that Google's library Book Search program is permissible under the fair use doctrine.  As I wrote recently,  scholars such as Siva Vaidhyanathan disagree with this assertion.

Tonight I read Mr. Band's paper "The Google Library Project: Both Sides of the Story."  He recognizes that publishers and authors (the two groups that have sued Google over this program) make plausible legal arguments, while arguing strongly that Google's fair use claims are more persuasive.

For the moment, suffice it to say that the legal battle is ongoing and complex.  I can see both sides of the debate. My concern is with this unsubstantiated claim in Band's paper: "While in theory it might be preferable from a societal point of view for the Library Project to be conducted by libraries rather than a private corporation, libraries simply do not have the resources to do so. Thus, as a practical matter, only a large search engine such as Google has both the resources and the incentive to perform this activity."

This is the unexamined assumption that has caused librarians to embrace the Google program--that nobody else in the entire world has the ability to do it. 

Obviously a local public library branch should not assume the task of digitizing and providing access to a broad swath of the world's recorded knowledge.  But is this really beyond the means of the National Library of Medicine, the Library of Congress, and prominent national libraries around the world? If the answer proves to be yes--if privatizing knowledge via Google really is the only way to achieve these goals--that will say a lot about humanity's commitment  to sharing knowledge.

But nobody has even asked the question.

Missing the Eastern Market

Weekend trips to the Eastern Market, which is located just a short distance from the US Capitol Building, were one of the great pleasures of our years in Washington DC.  In existence since 1873, the  market offers indoor food stalls seven days a week and a thriving outdoor bazaar on the weekends.  A sizable flea market is across the street, and excellent brunch spots and bookstores are just steps away.

That slice of DC literally revolves around the Eastern Market. There is nothing in New York quite like it.

The building is so old that it was not required to have sprinklers.  Two weeks ago flames severely damaged much of the market, displacing many long-standing vendors.  The city plans to rebuild this hub of the Capitol Hill community, and in the meantime will find other places for vendors to work. 

From an urban planning perspective,  there is indeed opportunity in this adversity.   But the rebuilding will take 18-24 months; even if what emerges is just as impressive as what existed before, something precious has been lost.  In the transient and power-mad town of Washington DC, the Eastern Market was able to bring people together. 

Microfinance Made Easy

Last year Muhammad Yunus won the Nobel Peace Prize after 30 years of promoting the concept of "microfinance"--the idea of giving very small loans to struggling people, as a way to help them first escape poverty and eventually prosper.   Perhaps it's true, as some people argued at the time, that this type of "peace" was not in keeping with the original intent of the award.  Even so, the announcement was my first exposure to the concept of microfinance.

Last weekend, in Berkeley, we met someone who works for the microfinance organization Kiva. Kiva allows you to make small online loans (usually $25) to aspiring entrepreneurs in the developing world, or to successful people who have suffered a temporary setback. When the loan is fully repaid, you either get your money back or have the option to donate it to someone else.

Tonight Helen and I made our first Kiva loan, to Rogelio Martinez Sanchez of Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. Mr. Sanchez is a successful baker who needs money to buy a new bread mixer. Our money actually went to the Fundacion para la Vivienda Progresiva, which will give it to Mr. Sanchez.

Other people may well be more deserving, depending on how you define need.  Even though it's an arbitrary decision, it still feels good to do our part to help Mr. Sanchez.  (As Nicholas Kristof pointed out in his column last week, it's easier for people to empathize with one person--like Mr. Sanchez--than with terribly suffering masses of people like those in Darfur.) We'll get regular reports about his progress, and have great confidence that the money will be well-spent.

Must Be That Time of Year Again

The Medical Library Association meeting is only a week away. This year I have reached a new height of excessive activity. I feel bad about missing the sure-to-be-exciting National Program Committee meeting, but at least it's because I'll be at the Nominating Committee meeting.  And I can't even talk about the poster I helped create, because I'll be somewhere else.

Every year I pretend that it won't be so busy, but every year the crazy schedule is what makes it fun. And hey--there's always those Bearded Pigs to look forward to.

That Surreal In Between Feeling

In August 2002, Helen and I moved from Evanston, IL to Washington DC.  Right before our move, we went on vacation. By the time we returned to Evanston, there was only a week until we left. That last week felt surreal, like living in two places at once. 

Two years later we moved up the Atlantic Seaboard. That move felt like another day at the office. We simply moved from one point to the next in the Bos-Ny-Wash corridor. Helen switched from one consulting firm to another, and I continued my library career.

Now another move awaits, and that surreal "in between" feeling is back. This will literally be a coast to coast endeavor; Interstate 80 begins at the George Washington Bridge in New York City and ends at the Bay Bridge in San Francisco. And Helen is quitting work to return to school, not merely changing employers. 

The one constant is library work--there are very promising opportunities on that front in the Bay Area. Even so the overall feeling is one of great change, which usually feels very exciting but sometimes leaves me bursting with nostalgia for life in good ol' New York. 

I used to think our destiny was to live most of our lives in Manhattan. Now I'm not so sure--last weekend in the Bay Area was wonderful. But a piece of my heart will always be here.