First of all, "Ying Ding" should definitely be the name of the next big Web 2.0 site ;)
I think that after reading these two articles, I should be able to describe how user tagging is like or unlike ontologies. However, "A Review of Ontologies with the Semantic Web in View" simply left my brain blank. I don't think this should have been the case. I thought I had a general understanding of ontologies. In a metaphysical sense, I "believe" in ontologies. I don't think my brain-blankness is a reflection on the article, but rather on the state of my brain after trying to create a MODS record.
Needing a better understanding of ontologies, I turned to my trusty friend Wikipedia. For anyone else whose brain is still reeling, try:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ontology
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ontology_%28computer_science%29
I admit, I began reading the article on computer science ontology, and heard a sigh come from between my ears. Indeed, ontologies are what I thought they were. There is even a picture in the Wikipedia article.
To visualize an ontology, think of something that looks like your standard organizational chart. You've got the director at the top, followed by lots of lines and lots of boxes, showing the relationships from the lowest peon all the way to the highest paid executive. By looking at the organizational chart, you can identify different categories (divisions, classes, or concepts) as well as specific objects (individuals, in Wikipedia article). An ontology is basically a hierarchy. Keep this in mind as Ding describes it as "a term used to denote the shared understanding of some domains of interest, often conceived as a set of classes (concepts), relations, functions, axioms and instances" (Ding 2001, 378).
I think perhaps my mind works in a hierarchical--or ontological--fashion. I love del.cio.us, but often find myself trying to create relationships rather than tags. That is, I imagine little Windows folders, parceled out like the c:/articles/cats/africa example given by Golder and Huberman (2006, 199). I think "this website is part of," or "this website would come under..." Reading Golder and Huberman has encouraged me, though, because they identify seven kinds of tags, most of which I have used.
As I read, I started thinking of new and better ways to categorize my bookmarks and tags. Perhaps for each bookmark, I'll try to include a set of Golder and Huberman's tag functions: 1) "identifying what (or who) it is about;" 2) "identifying what it is;" 4) "refining categories;" and occasionally 7) "task organizing." Up until now, I've just been tagging haphazardly, sometimes using one tag, sometimes five.
Maybe it's not so much that my mind works in an ontological fashion, but that it has been conditioned that way. As I said, I picture Windows folders. However, the more I use tagging, the more that I wish I could tag everything in my life--especially all those old documents stored in my Windows folders. Both tools--tagging and ontologies--are simply part of sense-making. Our little human minds struggle to organize and track information so that it might be useful to us.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Dr. Schoogle: or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Google
Google, schmoogle...shoogle. "Optimising Metadata to Make High-value Content More Accessible to Google Users" by Alan Dawson and Val Hamilton show how shaking up your metadata just a bit can lead to impressive results in your Google ranking. I know, there are those librarians who would quickly retort "But, Google page ranking isn't everything!" True. But, in our profession, access to information is.
Dawson and Hamilton could not have used a more apt metaphor than moving mountains. Libraries and other collections of cataloged information are sitting on mountains of gold that are currently buried in the invisible layer of the web. In reading about metadata, interoperability, digital libraries, and such, it seems that we are always thinking of new ways to carve tunnels through these mountains, or shave off sides to make a new highway...or even providing free helicopter rides to the mountains, if users will only just come visit.
Yet, we are wary of Google. We have a love/hate relationship with it. We seem to be on the defense whenever it is mentioned. "Oh, sure, it's super-fast and takes you right to what you need, but is it reliable? Is it scholarly? How relevant are the other 199,999 results that came up after number 1? Your librarian can do better than that...it just takes a little more time and effort."
Does it have to be this way? When I read "the alternative strategy is to get Google to come to this mountain and do justice to it by indexing it fully and effectively" (Dawson and Hamilton 2005, 311), I felt relieved. Let's make even better use of all that metadata and content we have, and add a few simple pieces that will make it Google (or any search engine) friendly.
Dawson and Hamilton offer some great tips on making becoming Google-friendly. But, there is still talk of the illusive Google algorithm used to rank search results. Librarians want to know. Google answers: http://www.google.com/librariancenter/articles/0512_01.html. Here, Google answers "How does Google decide what result goes at the top of the list?" And, let's admit it: We all want to be on top.
However, I think it is important to note here that getting Google to come to the door doesn't mean we can toss out the metadata. Dawson and Hamilton consistently refer to the metadata in the Glasgow Digital Library. In "Understanding Metadata and Metadata Schemes," Jane Greenberg provides an overview of metadata, metadata schemes, and the proposed MODAL framework. This rich, structured information is still valuable for collections. Greenberg explains that "Frameworks are useful for understanding complex topics: they help divide, categorize, and analyze concepts..." Metadata makes this possible. This is part of the value that we add to our content and collections, the reason we want Google to find us.
Dawson and Hamilton could not have used a more apt metaphor than moving mountains. Libraries and other collections of cataloged information are sitting on mountains of gold that are currently buried in the invisible layer of the web. In reading about metadata, interoperability, digital libraries, and such, it seems that we are always thinking of new ways to carve tunnels through these mountains, or shave off sides to make a new highway...or even providing free helicopter rides to the mountains, if users will only just come visit.
Yet, we are wary of Google. We have a love/hate relationship with it. We seem to be on the defense whenever it is mentioned. "Oh, sure, it's super-fast and takes you right to what you need, but is it reliable? Is it scholarly? How relevant are the other 199,999 results that came up after number 1? Your librarian can do better than that...it just takes a little more time and effort."
Does it have to be this way? When I read "the alternative strategy is to get Google to come to this mountain and do justice to it by indexing it fully and effectively" (Dawson and Hamilton 2005, 311), I felt relieved. Let's make even better use of all that metadata and content we have, and add a few simple pieces that will make it Google (or any search engine) friendly.
Dawson and Hamilton offer some great tips on making becoming Google-friendly. But, there is still talk of the illusive Google algorithm used to rank search results. Librarians want to know. Google answers: http://www.google.com/librariancenter/articles/0512_01.html. Here, Google answers "How does Google decide what result goes at the top of the list?" And, let's admit it: We all want to be on top.
However, I think it is important to note here that getting Google to come to the door doesn't mean we can toss out the metadata. Dawson and Hamilton consistently refer to the metadata in the Glasgow Digital Library. In "Understanding Metadata and Metadata Schemes," Jane Greenberg provides an overview of metadata, metadata schemes, and the proposed MODAL framework. This rich, structured information is still valuable for collections. Greenberg explains that "Frameworks are useful for understanding complex topics: they help divide, categorize, and analyze concepts..." Metadata makes this possible. This is part of the value that we add to our content and collections, the reason we want Google to find us.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
If it ain't about the user, it ain't gonna work.
I had studied Nielson and Usability before encountering Kuhlthau in my Information Users and the Knowledge Society class. As I read about the many theories and models in that class, I remember thinking that those models seemed to form a foundation upon which Usability could have been based. Maybe what I'm saying is, librarians were doing usability before usability was cool.
Perhaps, however, we forgot about the lessons Dervin taught us about Sense-making when we started making our digital libraries and our library websites. Or, maybe the introduction of any new technology requires first the idea that it could work, then making it work, then (hopefully sooner rather than later) realizing that just because it technically works, that doesn't mean it works for the user.
This was definitely the discovery that Ferreira and Pithan made of the InfoHab digital library. By combining Kuhlthau's notions that information searches involve physical, affective, and cognitive states, with Nielson's "big five" (learnability, efficiency, memorability, errors, and satisfaction), the authors created a study that should offer a pretty reliable and valid assessment of a digital library's goodness (I want to say usability here, but I think it needs to incorporate more than that, since we have added affective and cognitive aspects, as well.).
Judy Jeng also used a combination to try to develop an evaluation tool for digital libraries. She uses several techniques to create a more complete picture of the user experience. She suggests using formal usability testing, questionnaire, interview, think aloud, etc. She uses quantitative and qualitative measures. Satisfaction is the qualitative measure. I think this is where Kuhlthau's identification of the affective and cognitive aspects of searching are most prevalent. Kuhlthau tells us that users will experience some uncertainty during their search,. If the site has good usability, the uncertainty should be limited to "Is this really a topic I want to pursue? Does this fit my need?" rather than "Which button do I click now? How do I refine my search? Where am I, and what just happened?" This last question relates to user-lostness, identified by Jeng, as well.
People don't like feeling lost. In Don't Make Me Think, Steve Krug uses this to explain why web navigation must be good (2006, 54-60). Good navigation is one of the most important things designers of digital libraries can keep in mind.
Or, at least, that's what I would have thought six months ago. As I wrote that sentence, however, I started wondering about the importance of good metadata, that would allow the contents of the digital library to be found using a search engine like Google. If a user were looking for something specific, via Google, and found a link to the item deep within a digital library, would they need or want to navigate around the digital library after finding what they came for?
And, what about the whole social aspect that we've been discussing all semester? One of my least favorite things about wikis is the lack of good navigation, yet their popularity is undeniable. Wikipedia has an excellent search tool, and a fun random page feature, but browsing by categories (or basic topics) is really overwhelming. That's one of the things that concerns me about my own wiki. Yet, if people now just go straight for the search box, does it matter?
Yes, of course it does. Good navigation within digital libraries is just as important as good navigation within physical libraries. We don't just throw all the books in a big pile and make people dig through them. We sort them, we shelve them, we put them in a findable order. Then, on top of that, we provide lots of good signage (ideally) and friendly experts (hopefully) to help people be successful in their search. So, as I just think through my keyboard here, I'd say that these same tools--clear labels, helpful guides, help when you need it--are essential for ensuring usability and user satisfaction within digital libraries.
Perhaps, however, we forgot about the lessons Dervin taught us about Sense-making when we started making our digital libraries and our library websites. Or, maybe the introduction of any new technology requires first the idea that it could work, then making it work, then (hopefully sooner rather than later) realizing that just because it technically works, that doesn't mean it works for the user.
This was definitely the discovery that Ferreira and Pithan made of the InfoHab digital library. By combining Kuhlthau's notions that information searches involve physical, affective, and cognitive states, with Nielson's "big five" (learnability, efficiency, memorability, errors, and satisfaction), the authors created a study that should offer a pretty reliable and valid assessment of a digital library's goodness (I want to say usability here, but I think it needs to incorporate more than that, since we have added affective and cognitive aspects, as well.).
Judy Jeng also used a combination to try to develop an evaluation tool for digital libraries. She uses several techniques to create a more complete picture of the user experience. She suggests using formal usability testing, questionnaire, interview, think aloud, etc. She uses quantitative and qualitative measures. Satisfaction is the qualitative measure. I think this is where Kuhlthau's identification of the affective and cognitive aspects of searching are most prevalent. Kuhlthau tells us that users will experience some uncertainty during their search,. If the site has good usability, the uncertainty should be limited to "Is this really a topic I want to pursue? Does this fit my need?" rather than "Which button do I click now? How do I refine my search? Where am I, and what just happened?" This last question relates to user-lostness, identified by Jeng, as well.
People don't like feeling lost. In Don't Make Me Think, Steve Krug uses this to explain why web navigation must be good (2006, 54-60). Good navigation is one of the most important things designers of digital libraries can keep in mind.
Or, at least, that's what I would have thought six months ago. As I wrote that sentence, however, I started wondering about the importance of good metadata, that would allow the contents of the digital library to be found using a search engine like Google. If a user were looking for something specific, via Google, and found a link to the item deep within a digital library, would they need or want to navigate around the digital library after finding what they came for?
And, what about the whole social aspect that we've been discussing all semester? One of my least favorite things about wikis is the lack of good navigation, yet their popularity is undeniable. Wikipedia has an excellent search tool, and a fun random page feature, but browsing by categories (or basic topics) is really overwhelming. That's one of the things that concerns me about my own wiki. Yet, if people now just go straight for the search box, does it matter?
Yes, of course it does. Good navigation within digital libraries is just as important as good navigation within physical libraries. We don't just throw all the books in a big pile and make people dig through them. We sort them, we shelve them, we put them in a findable order. Then, on top of that, we provide lots of good signage (ideally) and friendly experts (hopefully) to help people be successful in their search. So, as I just think through my keyboard here, I'd say that these same tools--clear labels, helpful guides, help when you need it--are essential for ensuring usability and user satisfaction within digital libraries.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
More on the Hive Mind of Wikipedia
I finally finished the Schiff article. I learned a lot about the origins of Wikipedia.
Unfortunately, just as I'm coming around to treating Wikipedia with ample skeptism, I read something like this. Initially, the article is pretty even-handed.
But then, the Wikipedia-bashing: "Wikipedia remains a lumpy work in progress. The entries can read as though they had been written by a seventh grader: clarity and concision are lacking; the facts may be sturdy, but the connective tissue is either anemic or absent; and citation is hit or miss." I can't help it; I just have an emotional response to this kind of thing. It's probably related to the analogy that Jimmy Wales uses about Wikipedia being rock and roll, and Britannica being easy listening. It's certainly a teen-age angst voice that wells up in me and wants to yell, "You just don't understand, man--it's about the people. It's, like, cool, and fast, and easy to use. You just use the good stuff in Wikipedia--don't use the stupid stuff. Phfft, anybody knows that." I know, it's a very intelligent retort.
I think you just have to know your tool. If you're trying to start a new, healthful, organic, all-goodness diet, don't go to McDonald's. But, if you're on the turnpike early in the morning, and you'd like some tasty hash browns, it's not the end of the world. Just don't tell yourself that they're the nutritional equivalent of whole-grain cereal and grapefruit.
Brace yourself. Here it comes: the "good enough" argument. It *is* good enough for some things. For example, reading the Schiff article, Felix Unger came up in connection with OCD. It seemed to be part of a witty remark, but I couldn't think of who that might be. So, I jump on over to Wikipedia, do a quick search for Felix Unger, and viola, my memory is jogged back to watching "Odd Couple" reruns as a child. I get the reference, and I'm back to reading the New Yorker article in less than thirty seconds.
So, reading that Schiff article had the exact opposite of the intended effect. I may never get a job as a librarian after posting this, but...well, if loving Wikipedia is wrong, I don't want to be right. *sigh*
http://www.newyorker.com/fact/content/articles/060731fa_fact
Unfortunately, just as I'm coming around to treating Wikipedia with ample skeptism, I read something like this. Initially, the article is pretty even-handed.
But then, the Wikipedia-bashing: "Wikipedia remains a lumpy work in progress. The entries can read as though they had been written by a seventh grader: clarity and concision are lacking; the facts may be sturdy, but the connective tissue is either anemic or absent; and citation is hit or miss." I can't help it; I just have an emotional response to this kind of thing. It's probably related to the analogy that Jimmy Wales uses about Wikipedia being rock and roll, and Britannica being easy listening. It's certainly a teen-age angst voice that wells up in me and wants to yell, "You just don't understand, man--it's about the people. It's, like, cool, and fast, and easy to use. You just use the good stuff in Wikipedia--don't use the stupid stuff. Phfft, anybody knows that." I know, it's a very intelligent retort.
I think you just have to know your tool. If you're trying to start a new, healthful, organic, all-goodness diet, don't go to McDonald's. But, if you're on the turnpike early in the morning, and you'd like some tasty hash browns, it's not the end of the world. Just don't tell yourself that they're the nutritional equivalent of whole-grain cereal and grapefruit.
Brace yourself. Here it comes: the "good enough" argument. It *is* good enough for some things. For example, reading the Schiff article, Felix Unger came up in connection with OCD. It seemed to be part of a witty remark, but I couldn't think of who that might be. So, I jump on over to Wikipedia, do a quick search for Felix Unger, and viola, my memory is jogged back to watching "Odd Couple" reruns as a child. I get the reference, and I'm back to reading the New Yorker article in less than thirty seconds.
So, reading that Schiff article had the exact opposite of the intended effect. I may never get a job as a librarian after posting this, but...well, if loving Wikipedia is wrong, I don't want to be right. *sigh*
http://www.newyorker.com/fact/content/articles/060731fa_fact
Is the Hive Mind so bad?
When I started reading "Digital Maoism," it really struck home to me that one little error in Wikipedia can really be so...well, wrong. Sure, Wikipedia isn't for scholarly work, but for a quick fact, or some background knowledge, isn't it great?
Well, maybe not, if the subject of a biography, such as Jaron Lanier, can't correct his entry to what he knows to be true, and have it remain so. In his Edge essay, he explained that he is not a film director, yet Wikipedia says he is. Everytime he corrects it, someone else--who, truth be told, probably knows less about Jaron that Jaron himself--changes it back.
At this point, I was ready to cast off Wikipedia for good (well, I probably couldn't stop cold turkey), when I thought, "I wonder if his entry still says film director?"
So, I looked it up: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaron_Lanier. He's no longer a film director! I realized, of course, that he could have just tried again to fix it five minutes before got to the site, so I visited the history of revisions page. Around August 16, someone had tried to add film maker again. However, this time, it was immediately corrected--not by Jaron--and the editor added a "see talk" note.
In the talk near the top of the page, there was some interesting, intelligent conversation going on. Wikipedia contributors were referencing Lanier's online "Digital Maoism" essay. Less informed people might post questions or complaints here, but all argument seemed to be level-headed. Answers were given clearly, and the "winning" side used good sources.
My favorite part, however, was Lanier's comments, and the responses to them, lower on the page. At this point, things just got weird. A commenter made a good point, that the subject of the biography might be biased about some interpretations, or might prefer to have some details highlighted and others hushed, even if they are all true. Sure.
Then, however, I just got a little freaked out. In June, someone named Fabian wrote: "lanier simply complains that his private point of view on his person differs from the public perception, that's why i say: who cares. undoubtly it is a rare luxus to have somebody to comment his or her own legend, but i think it is quite naive and self-overestimated to believe he or she has the "authors rights" on how his or her public personality is finally perceived by public." While the point is still that a public person might want to hide certain facts (I'm sure we could all insert a scandal involving a politician here), this gets a little creepy. Yes, when the facts are checked and undeniable proof exists about a certain person, that public person can't necessarily refuse to let it be discussed. However, just because 100, or even 1000, Wikipedia contributors say it's true, that doesn't make it true, or noteworthy. Suddenly images from Lord of the Flies jumped to mind.
Fortunately, voices of reason (those with good sources) prevailed. Still, I'm sure there will be people trying to offer hear-say and/or conspiracy websites as sources for the next proposed change. In one of my past LIS classes, someone discussed an idea of librarians somehow partnering with Wikipedia. I think the idea involved having librarians give the resources, or monitor the content, or something. It seemed to rob Wikipedia of a bit of its magic. However, maybe Wikipedia should consider making its users do an online Information Literacy tutorial before they are allowed to become contributors...
http://www.edge.org/3rd_culture/lanier06/lanier06_index.html
Well, maybe not, if the subject of a biography, such as Jaron Lanier, can't correct his entry to what he knows to be true, and have it remain so. In his Edge essay, he explained that he is not a film director, yet Wikipedia says he is. Everytime he corrects it, someone else--who, truth be told, probably knows less about Jaron that Jaron himself--changes it back.
At this point, I was ready to cast off Wikipedia for good (well, I probably couldn't stop cold turkey), when I thought, "I wonder if his entry still says film director?"
So, I looked it up: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaron_Lanier. He's no longer a film director! I realized, of course, that he could have just tried again to fix it five minutes before got to the site, so I visited the history of revisions page. Around August 16, someone had tried to add film maker again. However, this time, it was immediately corrected--not by Jaron--and the editor added a "see talk" note.
In the talk near the top of the page, there was some interesting, intelligent conversation going on. Wikipedia contributors were referencing Lanier's online "Digital Maoism" essay. Less informed people might post questions or complaints here, but all argument seemed to be level-headed. Answers were given clearly, and the "winning" side used good sources.
My favorite part, however, was Lanier's comments, and the responses to them, lower on the page. At this point, things just got weird. A commenter made a good point, that the subject of the biography might be biased about some interpretations, or might prefer to have some details highlighted and others hushed, even if they are all true. Sure.
Then, however, I just got a little freaked out. In June, someone named Fabian wrote: "lanier simply complains that his private point of view on his person differs from the public perception, that's why i say: who cares. undoubtly it is a rare luxus to have somebody to comment his or her own legend, but i think it is quite naive and self-overestimated to believe he or she has the "authors rights" on how his or her public personality is finally perceived by public." While the point is still that a public person might want to hide certain facts (I'm sure we could all insert a scandal involving a politician here), this gets a little creepy. Yes, when the facts are checked and undeniable proof exists about a certain person, that public person can't necessarily refuse to let it be discussed. However, just because 100, or even 1000, Wikipedia contributors say it's true, that doesn't make it true, or noteworthy. Suddenly images from Lord of the Flies jumped to mind.
Fortunately, voices of reason (those with good sources) prevailed. Still, I'm sure there will be people trying to offer hear-say and/or conspiracy websites as sources for the next proposed change. In one of my past LIS classes, someone discussed an idea of librarians somehow partnering with Wikipedia. I think the idea involved having librarians give the resources, or monitor the content, or something. It seemed to rob Wikipedia of a bit of its magic. However, maybe Wikipedia should consider making its users do an online Information Literacy tutorial before they are allowed to become contributors...
http://www.edge.org/3rd_culture/lanier06/lanier06_index.html
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Barriers to writing a paper
1) Your two year-old likes your iPod a little too much.
2) You think it's a good idea to make a "barriers to writing a paper" post on your blog.
3) You can't find any appropriate research. Either it has nothing to do with yor subject, or it's so jargon-filled you can't understand it.
4) Seriously considering making a list of pro-paper-writing music (suggestions, anyone?).
5) Listening to the book jPod. How do those tech people get anything done?
6) EMAIL.
7) Running out of coffee.
8) Your husband and "Little Superstar" in the same room where paper is being written.
9) Lack of sleep.
2) You think it's a good idea to make a "barriers to writing a paper" post on your blog.
3) You can't find any appropriate research. Either it has nothing to do with yor subject, or it's so jargon-filled you can't understand it.
4) Seriously considering making a list of pro-paper-writing music (suggestions, anyone?).
5) Listening to the book jPod. How do those tech people get anything done?
6) EMAIL.
7) Running out of coffee.
8) Your husband and "Little Superstar" in the same room where paper is being written.
9) Lack of sleep.
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