All blogs come to an end?

A short post:

I just learned that the website of my previous post, Torontoist, will be closing down January 1st! I guess I'm cursed - it lasted four years until I wrote about it. The content will still be up, but if you're hankering for some vintage ads and archival photos, visit soon!

In which I glimpse Toronto's past

One of my favourite blogs is Torontoist. It is updated daily with everything Toronto-oriented: news, concerts, movies, politics, urban planning, photos, art listings, transit news, pretty much everything. It is part of the Gothamist network (which boasts many cities, from Seattle to Shanghai), but is written by various Torontonians, most university-age and in their 20s and 30s (I think). They claim to be the largest, most influential, and most widely-read website of its kind in Canada, with 250,000 visits per month. One of my favourite articles are posted on Saturday mornings: Historicist.

"Every Saturday morning Historicist looks back at the events, places, and characters—good and bad—that have shaped Toronto into the city we know today." Posts feaure glimpses into Toronto's past, everything from the Santa Claus parade and famous TO residents such as Banting and Best, to old amusement spots and the histories of famous buildings. And of course, in great public history style, the entries are full of archival photos.

I wouldn't have thought at first that a city blog like Torontoist would be the place to find historical vignettes. Torontoist is unabashedly part of the 'indy' crowd of TO, and they are known by some for being too cool for school (though I'm always impressed by their political coverage). On the other hand, I have realized that this blog is the perfect spot for these glimpses. Torontoist advertises itself as being about absolutely everything Toronto-related, and why shouldn't this include its history?

History can be equally as interesting as daily news. I believe people who live in Toronto, and want to learn more about the city, need (and usually want, I hope) to learn about how the city came to be the way it is. Historicist serves as a reminder; many posts talk about the oft-forgotten and perhaps dismissed people, places and events that helped create Toronto. Whether it's learning about the history of a long tradition, or about the architecture or a building one might pass by daily, or about the entertainment spots visited by families in the earlier 20th century, Historicist teaches people what Toronto was, while the other posts on the blog explain what Toronto is like today. I believe Torontoist has realized that history makes us who we are.

In which I celebrate Henry VIII

It is - unbelievably - almost 2009. This will mark the 500th anniversary of Henry VIII's accession to the English throne. And England is throwing one hell of a party for their most memorable, controversial and beloved king. I cannot think of another monarch who has captured the public's attention (both domestic and international) more so than Henry and his exploits. The popularity of the TV series The Tudors, Philippa Gregory's novels (such as The Other Boleyn Girl), and numerous History Channel documentaries on his six wives (usually narrated by popular historian David Starkey) have proved that this is a part of history of which people just can't get enough.

I've always had a soft spot for this larger than life historical figure. In fact, the title of this blog comes from one of his original musical compositions (in case anyone was wondering). So I was thrilled when I learned that London was taking advantage of the first law of outreach, according to some archivists: anniversaries. Anything divisible by 5 or 10 will work, and 500 is a popular momentous age to celebrate (think back to the American celebrations of Columbus' 'discovery').

For the academics, there is an international conference to be held next July at Hampton Court Palace to discuss Henry and his court. Strangely the website claims to have a goal of "disseminat[ing] this research to a wide academic and non-academic audience" - a lofty goal perhaps for an academic conference. But they deserve praise for wanting to spread the knowledge further outside of academia's ivy-covered walls.

The real celebrations will be happening all throughout 2009, and there is an amazing array of exhibits and events. Hampton Court, already a popular historic site just outside of London, will open new rooms to the public and focus on one day in Henry's life: July 12, 1543, when Henry married his sixth wife. Costumed characters and recreations will abound. Hampton Court is one of the only surviving palaces used by Henry VIII. Despite its renovations in the late 17th century for William III, many parts from Henry's day are conserved, such as the chapel, great hall, and some Tudor kitchens, so there is an air of authenticity. Other events in 2009 will include musical concerts on period instruments, Christmas celebrations, a jousting tournament, a special coronation weekend, and cooking demonstrations - where visitors can help cook food Tudor-style and later eat some of the dishes at the cafe on-site. There will also be special ghost tours of the palace - because who doesn't love a good ghost story?

The Tower of London will also feature an exhibit, regarding Henry and his armour. The British Library will present Henry: Man and Monarch, and display manuscripts he commissioned and books he owned.

Lastly, for those interested in learning more about Henry VIII, Oxford's Continuing Education Dept will offer a course, "Henry VIII: Reputation and Reality", thus giving people the chance to learn more about Henry in a university setting.

The organizers have clearly realized that there is a large interest in everything Tudor these days, and I can't think of anything better than a year-long celebration that invites both scholars and the public to come to London and learn more about the Tudor period through exhibits, displays, events, etc. Visitors can walk the halls of a Tudor palace, eat 16th century food, hear 16th century music, see 16th century artifacts. They can literally walk in the shoes of a famous historical figure. I am very impressed at the level of engagement with the past that will be offered at these sites. Public history is about trying to impress our own interest with history onto those that may not be interested, and using music, art, food and events to show people a fascinating time period is a great way to get them involved - and maybe even learn something.


For more info, check out Susan James,
"London celebrates Henry VIII anniversary"

In which I consider the macabre

I have been thinking about Lennon and Foley's 'Dark Tourism' article. They discussed the new phenomenon of tourist interest in recent death and atrocities, and continued by analyzing the Auschwitz-Birkenau historic site. So, what is this fascination that people have with death and destruction?

I have stood where Ann Boleyn (and countless others) lost their heads in London, I have stood where Savonarola burned to death in Florence, I have looked over the graves of Titanic victims in Halifax. I have observed medieval torture instruments (including a used guillotine) in Ghent, I have walked past rows of bones in the Paris catacombs, I have seen where gladiators once lost their lives with crowds of Romans cheering their demise. Seems I can enjoy the macabre as much as the next person, and who wouldn't enjoy the more colourful, gory parts of history? As a history student, it is the extraordinary events that capture our interest for the most part. The wars, the murders, the intrigue. But the difference is the distance I feel from these activities. This is one of the fundamental reasons I chose to study history that had happened five hundred years ago as opposed to fifty. The distance allowed me no personal attachment, no emotional draw.

I recently watched a trio of youtube videos (aaah youtube, what don't you have online?) that I happened to watch in a trio because they happened to link to each other. Hence the addictive nature of youtube. The first was the crash of the Hindenburg, complete with radio soundtrack. The second was the Kennedy assassination, a video I had never seen before (and I really wish I hadn't let my curiosity get the better of me because it was particularly horrific). The third was a 'home video' of Hitler, Eva Braun and their pals frolicking in the Alps in 1939. Now, with these events, while there is some distance, the fact that they happened in the 20th century while most of my grandparents were alive is shocking to me. I can't help but feel this sensitivity to the horrific events that are still in the living memory. The invention of colour video helps particularly with the idea that these people were not so different, that these events happened recently and could possible happen again.

As a historian I understand why Lennon and Foley would criticize Auschwitz-Birkenau for lacking historical explanation or interpretation. At the same time, I can't imagine going to a historic site like a concentration camp and trying to see it with a distant, professional historian perspective. It's too horrific, too recent. I enjoyed their description of Auschwitz as more of a pilgrimage site - while talking about such an event it shouldn't be forgotten as one aspect of the site. Visiting such a place would just be heart-wrenching - even with the inauthentic touches that Lennon and Foley point out. As public historians, we must remember what the public is looking for. Are they looking for a moving experience, or a balanced history lesson? One skill public historians must learn is putting the two together. But I have to admit - while I was standing in Anne Frank's room in Amsterdam, I didn't care that there were video screens with oral interviews, or text panels explaining the Dutch situation in the early 1940s. I was just excited and moved to be there, history lesson or no. There are just some spots where words aren't needed.

In which I remember

I was browsing indie Toronto news blog torontoist when I came across this post just one day after Remembrance Day. What a moving statement from students, a group one would not normally think would bother to impress on people the number of Canadians lost in war. Engineers had placed white crosses all over U of T's front campus, in front of University College, to remember each and every one of the 628 students, faculty, staff, and alumni that were killed in WWI. I won't say too much else, because other posts have already stated the importance of remembering. I will let the pictures speak for themselves.

In which I shamelessly get your attention

This past spring I congratulated myself on getting my BA by spending a month in Europe. The amazing museums and art galleries in cities like Paris and Rome allowed me to finally see first hand many of the things I had spent four years studying - as a medieval/Renaissance/early modern scholar, I was in heaven. But while seeing Titians in Venice and Botticellis in Florence was amazing, I remember quite clearly another museum I visited (and don't judge me too badly) - Amsterdam's SexMuseum.

This institution is as old as I am, opening in 1985, and is one of Amsterdam's most popular museums with over 500 000 visitors per year. It only cost 3 euros (a steal in any European city) and let me tell you - this was like no other museum I had been in. Plastic mannequins in revealing clothing smiled at you while you walked past a small shelf with various ancient Egyptian, Greek and European artifacts - all illustrating some sort of sexual activity. The collection mainly consisted of walls covered in 19th century pornography - studio pictures, for the most part. Imagine an explicitly dirty postcard, but starring men that look like Civil War soldiers and women whose hair would look old-fashioned aboard the Titanic.

I feel like using the term "museum" loosely, and not because I believe sexuality is not a valid historical topic. In fact, as my profile states, I find it a very interesting field. I spent the second half of my time at U of T discussing 15th century cross-dressing English prostitutes, the medieval church's views on acceptable sexual positions and the gay nightlife of Renaissance Florence. I wouldn't consider myself a historical prude. The field is still growing, being only about 20 years old, but is popular enough (as one can imagine) that pioneer sex historian Vern L. Bullough even has his own Wikipedia entry.

The SexMuseum, though, was different. First of all, it is centrally located along a main street leading to the train station in arguably the most liberally-minded city in the world. Tourists come to Amsterdam for well-known reasons. The museum was clearly catering to the tourist demographic - young backpackers looking for raunchy activities to later recount to their friends in postcards with XXX on them. The fact that it is open daily until 11:30 is case in point.

So I began to think - what makes a museum a museum? Is it any building with any coherent collection of historical artifacts on any topic, or does it have to be something more serious? A collection of local artifacts illustrating the humble beginnings of a small town, with no budget and no visitors, or a gallery of pornography, which receives half a million visitors? Is the SexMuseum seen as a legitimate museum, as opposed to if I set up my childhood toys on a shelf in my garage and invited friends over to take a look? My previous post confirmed museums don't even need permanent homes. So what of a wild tourist trap designed to make young North American travelers blush and giggle? Is it a legitimate museum?

I should point out that there are now other sex museums that seem to have more legitimacy, such as New York's Museum of Sex. With award-winning exhibits and academics on board, this seems more like the museums we all know - just with a more colourful focus than dinosaurs or medieval art. While sexuality is not fully accepted as serious topic by all, the Museum of Sex is clearly a real museum. Amsterdam's museum is a bit harder to categorize. I'm not fully sold on stripping it of its title, but the idea of including it in the same category as the ROM, the Met or Theatre Museum Canada makes me shudder just a little bit. So I will have to end this post without a firm opinionated conclusion, just more questions.

In which I think of public spaces

I was scanning my monthly UofT News e-mail the other day when I came across a story about Theatre Museum Canada. I had never heard of this museum before, and a quick look at the article confirmed that this museum, indeed, did not have any permanent home, only a website. The story talked about a new display that will be going up in Hart House (a student centre on campus) near the theatre housed within. Which got me thinking two things.

First, what a smart way for a group to show their exhibits and collections without a permanent museum structure. Not everyone can afford a home for their collections, especially one that is well-designed for the purpose of being a museum, one that is big enough with storage space for artifacts and one that is centrally located to attract residents and tourists alike. Not everyone even has the budget for any space, whether it be optimal or not. Matching up with Hart House was really a no-brainer for Theatre Museum Canada; the Hart House theatre is well-known around U of T and has seen many famous thespians cross its stage, such as Donald Sutherland, and is supported by Canadian film heavyweights such as Norman Jewison. Why not take advantage of empty walls and use them to highlight an important collection that needs a home? Especially since it seems that it may be the only theatre museum in Canada. Obviously a whole community is passionate about this collection, and placing it near a theatre space would definitely help attract the right audience and support, as well as highlight the history of the Hart House theatre.

Which brings me to my second thought. I realized the importance of bringing the museum out of the museum. One great way to get people interested in history is to place the history not by itself in a museum, isolated from the community, but within heavily used buildings with histories of their own, which many people passing by might not even realize. I myself stopped by Hart House for various reasons: 5$ international lunches, choir practices, guest speakers, gym visits, political debates or just as a place to relax between classes. One of the things I love most about public history is the 'public'ness of it: teaching people in public places or using popular media, whether it be historical fiction, an on-line exhibit sponsored by a national newspaper, a plaque on the side of a heritage building or in a city park, or exhibits in public buildings. It will be of increasing importance to get that history into as many places as possible, to interest as many people as possible.

That is until heritage and culture are finally given the importance they deserve in government budgets and each historical group receives enough money to conserve, collect and exhibit on their own.

In which I rethink Amazon

In our digital history discussions, we often get into heated debates (well, not really debates as we usually agree on the topic) regarding digital technologies. The difficult part of the class is attempting to tie our rants about these topics - for example, whether internet technology is getting too personal - back to the task at hand, that is thinking of technology in terms of historical study.

Amazon has been mentioned frequently in class. Many people love it and its personalized recommendations, and Dan Saffer, author of Designing Interactions, has listed Amazon as a great example of a smart technology - one that takes information and personalizes it for the user, creating a clever site that can make life easier. I began to think how a service like Amazon could be used in a more academic sphere. Different variations of existing technologies has already been mentioned, such as the smart GoogleKids idea Ruthann came up with and on which Simon pondered. I began to think of how Amazon could be used academically, and came up with AmazonScholar.

AmazonScholar would be similar to the Amazon book store we all know and love (or hate), but it would cater to university students and those in academia, or those wishing to browse through the latest works from university presses. A large, online academic bookstore with overnight shipping - what could be better? Many Amazon features would be found on AmazonScholar, such as the book recommendations. It would suggest for you the best (or most popular) books on your research subject. Users could rate books to give readers a good idea of whether the book would be right for them. Users could also make lists for others to browse. Instead of 'Sophie's Favourite Mysteries' there would be 'Sophie's Top Books on Education in Medieval England' which would list all the books I find helpful on that subject. It could be a sort of annotated bibliography for other students to use as a resource. The main front page would list the top ten bestsellers, showing which subjects were selling fastest (art? history? economics?) and of course the user's personalized front page would show the hottest new books in their field.

A huge online resource for academic works - what a great resource for those doing academic research. Ratings and recommendations would make it that much easier to find the right books. Amazon's personalized technology would be a perfect fit for those trying to stay on top of the new publications in their field - for both professors and students alike.

In which I turn to archival web exhibits

We were introduced to a wonderful database in archives class a few weeks ago, the Smithsonian's Library and Archival Exhibitions on the Web. The Smithsonian is a huge institution, and I am so happy I now know about this site. Online exhibitions are a great example of digital history because they weren't (for the most part) just a digital component of a physical museum exhibit. This is partly because archives are less likely to have the personnel, space, money and time to put together an exhibit, and partly a reflection on the acceptance of digital history. There is no reason why archivists wouldn't want to share their holdings with the public, and online exhibits are the perfect way to reach a wide audience from around the world.

I discussed the Bibliotheque nationale de France's Bestiary in a presentation last week. What a great way to share their incredible holdings of medieval French manuscripts with the public! Unless I had travelled to France while the physical exhibit was showing, I would never have learned so much about depictions of animals and seen so many examples of medieval images. I was very impressed with their high-resolution digital images, which I am sure someone spent months doing. The result, however, is a rich collection of historical artifacts available for viewing by anyone with a computer and internet. I can't pretend that seeing these images online are any replacement for seeing them up close in an archive, however I have to be realistic. Even I, who studied medieval history at a large university, would never have had the chance to see these artifacts. I have to forgo the smell, the feel, the atmosphere of the archive, but am happy to do this if the other option is not seeing them at all. This is really the strongest argument for digitizing as many historical items as possible; the advantage of immediate availability overshadows any arguments to the contrary.

The database gives people an idea of how much there already is on the web. These exhibits were put together by large universities, archives and museums, trustworthy sources who have put much time and effort into making parts of their collections available. The range is everything from to the French Revolution to Brooklyn in the American Civil War, from Chaucer to Edgar Allan Poe, from Ottoman Embroideries to the Housewife's Rich Cabinet. An amazing amount of information is available for free online, you just have to know where to look. For the most part they are exhibits, meaning there is enough background information for most people to understand what it is that they are looking at, and the layouts are generally clear and well-designed to attract audiences. Digital exhibits are a great way to keep a physical exhibit going after it has closed down. Museums often have limited space; by letting an exhibit live on digitally the artifacts can continue to be highlighted and people can keep learning about new historical topics. Online exhibits are a great option for those institutions wanting to highlight their collections but do not have the space or funds to put together a physical exhibit at all. While students can use these exhibits as a resource, they are really a great example of public history: artifacts and information on display for the public to learn something new.

In which I defend museums

While doing research on film archives (for HIS9806), I came across a harrowing quote from one Douglas Crimp, a professor at the University of Rochester. His take on museums took my attention away from the various methods of preservation of nitrate film and I thought I would share it here.

Crimp's view of museums is a pessimistic one. He sees them as institutions of confinement, similar to asylums and prisons (!). He believed they placed art within a confining framework of historicity that disallowed the possibilities of discontinuity and rupture with the past. The author of the book I was reading, film archivist Karen F. Gracy, disagreed; she believed the museum maintained itself in its gatekeeper of culture role by forsaking rigidity and allowing different forms of artifacts in its doors [1].

I had problems with Crimps's statement. Was he insinuating that museums stole art, placing them in an institutional setting where they were decontextualized to the point of being unrecognizable? Did placing them in a historical venue make them any less important, ground-breaking, modern? I have to agree with Gracy's idea that museums have been able to adopt various new objects and represent them as important historical artifacts, everything from celebrity shoes to classic Mac computers from the 1980s (these have to be on display somewhere...). Museums are no longer the stuffy, dark old buildings filled solely with hundred-year-old objects which had belonged to important people. Museums are changing, and are able to show the importance of everyday objects from the not-so-distant past as important cultural, political and economic artifacts.

As for placing objects in confining historical frameworks: What better way to observe how things can be completely new than to place them alongside similar (or not) objects for comparison? True, museums tend to lean towards an idea of progress, and as history students we are taught to never believe something hasn't happened before, and that everything is continuous. Museums, however, are also able to teach visitors about the evolution of ideas, countries, attitudes, etc. I may not know a lot about art, but I can't believe placing an important new piece in a museum will immediately give it a negative historical aura by taking away its individuality. Museums like MOMA are popping up in many large cities and feel very different than museums like the American Museum of Natural History, but they are museums nonetheless. Maybe Crimp needs to redefine his definition of a museum before comparing them to prisons.



[1] Karen F. Gracy, Film Preservation: Competing Definitions of Value, Use and Practice (Chicago: The Society of American Archivists, 2007), 71.

In which I get nostalgic for the dark

So, museums are still on my mind. I am well aware that there are many other options for public history students, and we have begun to learn about a few of them in class, but it's museums to which I keep going back. I am learning about some of the issues that can come about discussing digital history, but I'm still pondering and forming my opinions on the subject. So for now: museums.

I was remembering one of my first memories involving museums. I began to remember what the museum looked, and felt like, and began to compare that image to the new ideas that have recently been transforming galleries across Ontario. And I admit, I was a bit torn over whether these changes were for the better.

Let me start - one of my most memorable childhood experiences in a museum happened while I was a Brownie, circa age 7. We had the fantastic opportunity to have a sleep-over in the dinosaur gallery at the Canadian Museum of Nature. This was a favourite Ottawa museum of my sister and I, and the night didn't disappoint. Looking back, it strikes me as such a wonderful way for young children to experience public history. The gallery, as I remember, was the perfect spot. It was similar to a lot of older museum galleries: dark, softly lit, very atmospheric. The perfect setting for dinosaur fossils to be displayed against the wall, as if they had just been discovered in some Alberta desert.

Newly renovated dinosaur galleries have been envisioned very differently. The entire feel has changed, and not only because of ubiquitous interactive digital stations (I have no qualms with these). The ROM recently opened their new dinosaur gallery in the Libeskind crystal, a gallery which followed closely their new philosophy on the design of museums. Even before the opening of the added crystal, the ROM had realized they needed a change - from the dark and gloomy to the bright and airy. In late 2005 they unveiled their new Asian galleries, which featured a sea of glass shelves and large, newly-uncovered windows. The dinosaur gallery follows the same idea: housed in the crystal itself, it features large windows and lots of natural light to show off the hanging models of dinosaurs. The Museum of Nature in Ottawa has also recently redone their dinosaur galleries with similar results.

I do applaud this new philosophy, as I believe it may attract visitors who may have thought museums were dank, gloomy and full of old, dusty, dead things. Museum galleries are becoming more modern, more hip, more cutting-edge and hopefully some visitors will decide they are more fun and interesting places than they once were. They're moving towards the future, not stuck in the past. I can't help but remember, however, that wow feeling an atmospheric, dimly lit gallery full of dinosaur bones could give to a young child. It didn't turn me off the idea of history - it was interesting and mysterious, and a little spooky. I just hope these new galleries will be able to keep delivering that wow factor to children and adults alike.

Interpreting History for the Public

I have been thinking of the readings we have done for class, and one idea has stuck with me into this week, and that is historians as interpreters. This is an idea originally brought up by Manan Ahmed, who wrote about historians needing to interpret between the past and the present. He also mentioned the need for interdepartmental interpreting. Both very important ideas for public historians, since we tend to work more with other programmes (fields such as environmental science, new skills such as IT, art & design) to bring our ideas to the public, while trying to teach them that history can be extremely relevant to the present.

In this week's readings, the idea has taken on a different form, one I am more familiar with, and that is interpreting the past, as academics, for the public. One of the biggest worries re: digital and accessible history is the danger in losing our status as interpreters. Once Google and various other corporations get all primary sources, or all books ever written, online and available to anyone with a computer and internet access, will there still be a need for librarians, archivists, and historians? The answer seem to be that we'll still be needed (sigh of relief) to help them find the information, help them sort through the thousands of articles, and teach them the research skills that will be essential in surfing through all the available information.

What I am most concerned about is engaging people with the past - and it should be one of our most important goals. This seems to translate as the need for more interactive exhibits (both in museums and online). While volunteering at the ROM, my official position was called 'Gallery Interpreter', one of the reasons the term stuck with me through this week. Our job was to engage adults and children with the artifacts on display, and we did this two ways. First, we carried a hand-held artifact (or copy) in our hands, and let our audience touch or play with it. Then, we used a pseudo-Socratic method of questions and answers to engage them in conversation, while relating to the hand-held artifact as well as a larger immovable artifact on display. We weren't there to lecture - standing and listening to someone talk can be as boring as just passing by artifacts and reading labels to many people. We weren't even answering their questions most of the time, they were answering OURS (Is it heavy? What do you think its made out of? What do you think it was used for?).

If someone is engaged in conversation, or in an interactive activity, as opposed to passively listening or reading, their interest will last that much longer. Isn't that why history students have to join tutorials and engage in seminar discussions? This idea is important for getting across to those who aren't interested in history. We have seen in our public history reading that many people feel much more passionately about their personal history, such as keeping photo albums or creating a family tree, than visiting museums or sitting through a history class. Our job is to get them interested in what we as historians are interested in. Public historians, because of that, have to try that much harder.

In which I get worried over my faith in humanity

So the readings for this week's introductory digital history class are completed, and two thoughts came to mind. Well, more than only two thoughts, but you know what I mean. Today's post will deal with the first.

I felt surprise at certain opinions given in Nicholas Carr's Is Google Making us Stupid?. He (and his colleagues) claim that the internet, the new medium of choice for the late 20th century, had warped their minds to the point that they had lost the ability to concentrate on old-fashioned, hand-held, time-consuming books, or even long articles. Then could no longer focus their attention, and had no interest in doing so.

While the article is undoubtedly McLuhanesque in nature (his name is mentioned on the first page), with his famous "the medium is the message", one must remember that his statement was made more than 50 years ago. I took a Canadian media course in my last year of undergrad, and we discussed McLuhan and his overshadowed colleague, Harold Innis, whose theory can be related to "the medium biases the message". The effects of new technologies have been discussed for many years, such as in the new age of radio and television, as well as with the rise of daily newspapers. One need only to think about how a medium such as the nightly news or a newpaper biases the messages towards the sensationalistic, the quick, the snappy, the attention-grabbing, the famous newscaster line "and now... this" or the headlines in a newspaper (dead body found! taxes rising! Canadians getting fatter!). Our attention spans were being shortened for a much longer time than the 1980s/1990s/2000s. Were people worried about the effects? Of course. But were they having personal meltdowns and losing the ability to read an article from start to finish, to read a book, to concentrate longer than two minutes? I don't think so. So the question is, what makes the internet so different?

The fact that many of the people quoted in Carr's article are former "literary" types, as he calls them, makes me worry. It's one thing when someone who wasn't very inclined to read a book would rather skim an online article, but quite another when someone who loved to read has lost the ability. Is it really the ability, or just the interest? Part of me thinks this must be some sort of personal choice, even a laziness on their parts. Adapting to one medium is fine, but why does one need to lose other interests? This is a harsh opinion, and a personal one I admit, coming from someone who spends a lot of time online but can still spend hours reading a book. Maybe I'd just like to have faith that our brains can't really be permanently rewired thanks to the abundance of online sources and the prevalence of the internet in every facet of our daily lives. There's nothing wrong with adaptation, in fact its incredibly important (we're all here to hop on the digital history train, no?), but this loss makes me worry.

The internet isn't only here for skimming and skipping around - many valuable sources online are long in nature, and reading through it all at a fast pace is doing a disservice to those who spent so much time writing or digitizing those articles, and wasting a great opportunity to learn through a convenient medium. Take advantage!

Introduction

Aaah, the internet.  I had been without you at home for seven long days, and now that you're back I can rejoice.  I will be the first to admit that this past year, I used the internet for the most banal of activities (*ahem* celebrity gossip *ahem*).  Living without it, however, when moving to a new city, starting a new school and new programme was challenging at best. Arguments with one national telecommunications company, a switch to the Other national telecommunications company, two rescheduled appointments and one broken telephone jack did not make things any less irritating.  It all makes one wonder - the internet is so completely prevalent in our daily lives, so why is something as simple as setting up a connection sometimes so difficult?  But enough about my frustrations.  This blog is here to talk about everyone's favourite subject, public history.

Public history is still a bit of a mystery to me, one I am looking forward to unraveling as the year goes by.  As I understand it, it is history as it is related and communicated to the public.  Museums and historical sites are key, but for those whose interests in life may not include history (unbelievable as that is to me!) we must remember the incredible importance of popular culture: movies, novels, maybe even video games.  A young adult historical novel I read in middle school got me interested in Henry VIII and Tudor England, an interest that still exists ten years on.  I even had a Scottish friend explain to me this summer how the movie Braveheart rekindled national interest in William Wallace, surprising because the movie was made in Hollywood by an Australian/American.        

A big part of public history now is of course the internet.  Many believe the internet to be a necessary evil.  Evil, however, is too harsh of a word.  The internet has been a wonderful development for the study of history, not least in the field of public history.  The internet has the power to make accessible so much information, from archives, to historical documents, to interactive exhibits from world-famous museums.  Their are pitfalls of course, such as the loss of stringent academic rules, which has already been pointed out by a colleague on their blog.  Historians, however, are trained to be critical of all sources they use, whether they be primary or secondary.  Clearly with the rise of the digital age, this training will be even more important.  

The internet will never replace the feeling of holding an 800-year old manuscript in your hands, or standing in the middle of an ancient Greek temple, but it can help foster interest in new students, as well as be an invaluable resource for historians around the world.