Descent Into Madness
Before we get started, I'd like to note that this entry is really quite timely.
I'd also like to mention that it's three AM, I can't get back to sleep, and I have to catch a morning commute at oh-dark-stupid AM in a couple of hours. What a perfect time to mess with one's blog template and reflect on the vagaries of language and meaning!
This, O Avid Fan, is It.
Can you hear me now?--Men Without Hats, Intro to the "Pop Goes the World" album.
'Cause if you can hear me,
check this one out.
This is the big one.
This is the one you've all been waiting for.
Or CD, if you prefer.
We are gathered here today to consider the genre of blogs, considering their features, requirements, and potential import along the way.
So without further ado, let's get started.
Stop me if you've heard this before . . .
We agreed back in an earlier post that a genre may be said to have occurred when a given form turns into the dominant literary response to given situation.
Quoth the Avid Fan: Wha?
Me: Well you don't write thank-you notes in response to the situation of getting a traffic ticket. You might instead try to write a sincere and convincing appeal-to-the-court type of thing, but not a thank-you note. You write thank-you notes in response to receiving a gift or an invitation.
The thank-you note has arisen as a genre in response to the situation of receiving gifts.
If you read your morning paper and become incensed with their insensitive portrayal of the Janjaweed and what they're doing for the people of Darfur (encouraging them to expand their horizons by walking across international borders carrying all that they own) you don't write a thank-you note, but a letter to the editor.
In our society, it may be worth observing that the mode of response often says something about the author as well. The aforementioned letter-to-the-editor, in my local rag, is most commonly used as a place to rant, usually by the sort of mean little person who believes the country would be better off if we still had public flogging.
The internet has helped to expand the scope of genre by making communication easier and more informal. My last Xmas mass communications went out by e-mail. It has also tightened some rules for genre by allowing the proliferation of fora (forums? forii?) which exist as a totally focussed response to a single, sometimes unique situation. The people who participate in online discussion and debate are engaging in a genre (albeit sometimes by creating this sort of response to this sort of question).
Okay, so a situation turns up, someone crafts a written response. If these events turn up often enough, we may say that a genre has arisen.
But beware. In any genre there are unwritten rules:
"The point was driven home somewhat forcefully when I received a letter recently that said: Darling, I cannot live without you. Marry me or I shall kill myself. You can understand my concern, until I looked at the envelope and noticed that it was adressed to "Occupant".-Tom Lehrer
The reason that the music-related post and answer above seem discontinuous is that the latter doesn’t actually respond to the needs of the former. Later posts in the same thread indicate that the participants are not all reading from the same playbook. They do not all follow the same rules.
So what about blogs?
In short, what are the rules for blogs?
Over the next post or two (hopefully just one, but fluidity is one of the terrific features of a blog) I will attempt to answer some of these questions, patch up the holes in my arguments, and attempt to ignore any inconvenient facts.
Let's get stuck in.
To What Situation is a Blog a Response?
Uh--hang on. Already we need to examine some features, because the question above begs the further question "Is the blog itself the response to a situation, or is it instead the particular blog entry? Or is the blog itself the situation?
Okay, so let's examine the features of blogs, in the next post. Because another feature of blogs is a certain capriciousness on the part of the writer. Also, this is a big subject and I want to take it slowly.
Bloggers with literary aspirations:
I note that Wil Wheaton's tagline is "50,000 monkeys at 50,000 typewriters can't be wrong". True, but 49,999 monkeys, as I have proven by repeated and cruel experimentation, can. So he'd better hope none of them calls in sick.
Or perhaps this is a reference to the blogosphere entire?
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